s me!"

The third man was John, "Our Special Artist." John could write a
news story, too, but it was the cartoons that had made him famous.
They were not comic page, but front page cartoons, and before
making up their minds what they thought, people waited to see what
their Artist thought. So, it was fortunate his thoughts were as
brave and clean as they were clever. He was the original Little
Brother to the Poor. He was always giving away money. When we
caught him, he would prevaricate. He would say the man was a
college chum, that he had borrowed the money from him, and that
this was the first chance he had had to pay it back. The Kid
suggested it was strange that so many of his college chums should
at the same moment turn up, dead broke, in Salonika, and that half
of them should be women.

John smiled disarmingly. "It was a large college," he explained,
"and coeducational." There were other Americans; Red Cross doctors
and nurses just escaped through the snow from the Bulgars, and
hyphenated Americans who said they had taken out their first
papers. They thought hyphenated citizens were so popular with us,
that we would pay their passage to New York. In Salonika they were
transients. They had no local standing. They had no local
lying-down place, either, or place to eat, or to wash, although
they did not look as though that worried them, or place to change
their clothes. Or clothes to change. It was because we had clothes
to change, and a hotel bedroom, instead of a bench in a cafe, that
we were ranked as residents and from the Greek police held a
"permission to sojourn." Our American colony was a very close
corporation. We were only six Americans against 300,000 British,
French, Greek, and Servian soldiers, and 120,000 civilian Turks,
Spanish Jews, Armenians, Persians, Egyptians, Albanians, and
Arabs, and some twenty more other faces that are not listed. We
had arrived in Salonika before the rush, and at the Hotel Hermes
on the water-front had secured a vast room. The edge of the stone
quay was not forty feet from us, the only landing steps directly
opposite our balcony. Everybody who arrived on the Greek passenger
boats from Naples or the Piraeus, or who had shore leave from a *
man-of-war, transport, or hospital ship, was raked by our cameras.
There were four windows--one for each of us and his worktable. It
was not easy to work. What was the use? The pictures and stories
outside the windows fascinated us, but