Part 37 (1/2)

Their decision was made one day after a brisk six rounds of mimic battle. They soaped and bathed and dried their bodies. Then they rested--sitting upon up-ended beer kegs in the storeroom of Pegleg McCarron--and talked a little of life. Spike for a week had been laconic, even for him, and had taken little trouble to pull his punches.

To-day he revealed that the Interests had triumphed over his simple mind. He was going and going quick. He recovered a morsel of gum from beneath the room's one chair, put it again into commission, and spoke decisively.

”I'm goin' quick,” he said.

”When do we leave?” demanded Wilbur.

”I'm leavin' in two days.”

”We're leaving in two days.”

They chewed gum for an interval.

”Way it is,” said Spike at length, ”I'm nothing but about a fourth-rater in my game. I wasn't never a first-rater. I used to kid myself I was, but handier guys took it out of me. Never was better than a third-rater, I guess. But maybe in this other game I could git to be a first-rater.

You can't tell. I still got the use of myself, ain't I? And I wouldn't be so much afraid as a guy who never fought no fights at all. It looks good to me. Of course I don't know much about this here talk you read--makin' the world safe for Democrats, and so forth, but they's certain parts of it had ought to be made unsafe for Germans. I got that much straight.”

”Where do we go from here?” demanded Wilbur Cowan.

”N'York,” said Spike. ”Enlist there. I got a friend in Tamm'ny will see we git treated right.”

”Treated right--how?”

”Sent over quick--not kept here. This guy is high up; he can get us sent.”

”Good!”

”Only thing worries me,” said Spike--”sleepin' out of doors. It ain't healthy. They tell me you sleep any old place--on the ground or in a chicken coop--makes no matter. I never did sleep out of doors, and I hate to begin now; but I s'pose I got to. Mebbe, time we git there, they'll have decent beds. I admit I'm afraid of sleepin' out on the ground. It ain't no way to keep your health.”

He ruminated busily with the gum.

”Another thing, kid, you got to remember. In the box-fightin' game sometimes even second money is good. I pulled down a few nice purses in my time. But this here gun-fightin' stuff, it's winner take all every time. In a gun fight second money is mud. Remember that. And we ain't got the education to be officers. We got to do plain fightin'.”

”Plain fighting!” echoed Wilbur. ”And I'll tell you another thing. From what I hear they might put me to driving a car, but you bet I ain't going to take that long trip and get seasick, probably, just to fool round with automobiles. I'm going to be out where you are--plain fighting. So remember this--I don't know a thing about cars or motors.

Never saw one till I come into the Army.”

”You're on!” said Spike. ”Now let's eat while we can. They tell me over in the war your meals is often late.”

They ate at T-bone Tommy's, consuming a vast quant.i.ty of red meat with but a minor accompaniment of vegetables. They were already soldiers.

They fought during the meal several sharp engagements, from which they emerged without a scratch.

”We'll be takin' a lot of long chances, kid,” cautioned Spike. ”First thing we know--they might be saying it to us with flowers.”

”Let 'em talk!” said the buoyant Wilbur. ”Of course we'll get into trouble sooner or later.”

”Sure!” agreed Spike. ”Way I look at it, I got about one good fight left in me. All I hope is, it'll be a humdinger.”

Later they wandered along River Street, surveying the little town with new eyes. They were far off---”over where the war was taking place,” as Spike neatly put it--surveying at that long range the well-remembered scene; revisiting it from some remote spot where perhaps it had been said to them with flowers.

”We'd ought to tell Herman Vielhaber,” said Spike. ”Herman's a Heinie, but he's a good scout at that.”