Part 8 (2/2)
”You did?”
”Sure. After the crash, and when Uncle Phil had to go away, I knew there'd be a shortage of money. Now, though we have pretty good educations, we haven't been trained for any work yet. So I looked into this navy business, knowing you were as crazy about battles.h.i.+ps as I was, and I found out that not only does Uncle Sam train young fellows to be good sailors, marines and soldiers, but by enlisting in the navy you can acquire a trade at which you can earn your living if you want to quit after your term of enlistment is up.”
”Is that so?” asked Ned.
”It sure is. Why we can learn to become machinists, bakers, firemen, s.h.i.+pwrights, plumbers and fitters, boiler makers, cooks or musicians.”
”Really?” cried Ned.
”Well, I should say so! I read it all up. But your proposition sort of took me-er-”
”Call it amids.h.i.+ps, if we are to enlist,” suggested Ned, with a laugh.
”All right-it sort of took me amids.h.i.+ps,” agreed Frank. ”I was figuring on looking about New York a bit, trying to get work, perhaps, and then enlisting.”
”And you never told me. Though you did speak something about a chance to get near Atlanta, where Uncle Phil is imprisoned.”
”Yes, that was part of the game. You know when a fellow used to enlist in the navy he was sent to a training s.h.i.+p. Well, that's all done away with, and now the government has a number of naval training stations on sh.o.r.e, near the water, of course. There's one at Norfolk, Virginia, and we might ask to be sent there. If we were, we could get leave and go to Atlanta, perhaps.”
”Say, you have it all thought out, haven't you?” exclaimed Ned, admiringly.
”Not all,” Frank admitted. ”And perhaps we couldn't get to Atlanta after all. But it's worth trying. So now I'm with you, old man, and we'll enlist-or try to. Maybe they won't take us.”
”Oh, I think they will,” Ned said, confidently.
A recruiting officer, in a natty uniform, looked at them closely as they entered the hallway.
”Looking for the recruiting office?” he asked, with a smile.
”Why-er-yes,” admitted Frank, a bit bashfully.
”One flight up-turn to your right,” he directed them.
Ned and Frank went into a barely-furnished room, where two or three men were sitting about. One had a sergeant's chevrons on his sleeve, and to him Frank spoke.
”We'd like to enlist,” began the lad.
”That's fine,” was the hearty response. ”We're looking for good lads, and you two seem to size up pretty well,” he added, drawing a pad of paper toward him. ”Not running away from home, or anything like that, are you?” he asked, pleasantly enough.
”No; home sort of ran away from us,” answered Ned, with a laugh.
The sergeant looked at him closely for a moment, and then smiled himself.
”What's the story?” he asked. ”That is if you don't mind telling me.
Perhaps it might save trouble in the end,” he suggested.
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