ble to get jerked
off this detail so quick you'll leave toothbrush and pajamas behind.
Every morning now when I wake up and remember that I don't have to go
out on dawn patrol I start pinching myself to see if I'm awake. Boy, in
this game it's here to-day and gone to-morrow. Wasn't it old Omar who
handed out that gag, 'Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend, before
we too into the dust descend'?... Yeah? Well, he must have written that
for war pilots. The minute J.B. finds out how comfortable we are down
here we'll be recalled and sent to chasing Huns back across the line. In
fact, I think we're both asleep and having nice dreams."

"That reminds me," McGee said, drawing up a chair and sitting gingerly
on the edge after the manner of one about to indulge in confidential
disclosures. "Have you heard anything of this repatriation business?"

"Sure. Haven't you?"

"Not a word."

"Where have you been? It came down in a G.O."

McGee scratched his head. "So I've just learned, but it's the first I've
heard of it. Funny you didn't mention it to me."

Larkin eyed him curiously. "Well," slowly, "I knew you were English
and--"

"But I'm not, and you know it!" McGee flared.

"Calm, brother, calm! I mean, I knew your father and mother were
English, and so was your brother."

"But I was born in America. I'm just as much of an American as you are!"

"Calm, brother, calm! No one says you are not. But because of your
family nationality, I supposed you would want to finish out the string
with the R.F.C. and," he reached over and tousled McGee's mop of flaming
red hair, "I'm just fool enough to want to stick around where you
are--you little shrimp! So I thought I wouldn't bring up the subject."

McGee gave him a look of deep understanding and appreciation.

"Fact is," Larkin went on, "I just got a letter from Dad the other day
and he seems to be pretty hot under the collar because I haven't made
any move to get repatriated."

"Why haven't you?"

"You poor nut! I've just told you."

"No you haven't, Buzz. There is some reason deeper than that."

Larkin fingered his newspaper nervously and tried to simulate an
interest in some news note. He hated to display sentiment, yet the fates
had given him a double burden of it. As a matter of honest fact, he was
as sentimental as a woman, and was forever trying to hide the fact
behind a thin veneer of nonchalance and bluster.

"Did you see this communique from our old front?"