we was shown
up to this private suite in the Plutoria. Must have been kind of hard
for Hartley to give up his nifty O. D.'s, for he ain't such an
impressive young gent in a sack coat. And the braid bound cutaway and
striped pants he's dug out for the occasion makes him look more like a
floor walker from the white goods department than ever. But he tries to
look the second lieutenant in spite of it, bracin' his shoulders well
back and swellin' his chest out important.

It seems the G. O. G.'s has been doin' some recruitin' meantime, for
there's a dozen or more grouped about the room, some in citizens'
clothes but more still in the soldier togs they wore when they came off
the transport. And to judge by the looks of a table I got a squint at
behind a screen, they'd been doin' a little preliminary celebratin'.
However, they all salutes respectful and Hartley had just started to
shoot off his speech, which begins, of course: "Speaking as a military
man----" when this Beans gent interrupts.

"Pardon me, lieutenant," says he, "but the members of our organization
are quite anxious to know, first of all, if you will accept the high
command of the Gogs, so called."

"With pleasure," says Hartley. "And as I was about to say----"

"Just a moment," breaks in Beans again. "Fellow Gogs, we have before us
a willing candidate for the High Command. What is your pleasure?"

"Initiation!" they whoops in chorus.

"Carried!" says Beans. "Let the right worthy Buddies proceed to
administer the Camp Mills degree."

"Signal!" calls out another cheerful. "Four--seven--eleven! Run the
guard!"

Say, I couldn't tell exactly what happened next, for I was hustled into
a corner and those noble young heroes of the Marne and elsewhere, full
of lofty aims and high ambitions and--and other things--Well, they
certainly didn't need any promptin' to carry out the order of
ceremonies. Without a word or a whisper they proceeds to grab Hartley
wherever the grabbin' was good and then pass him along. By climbin' on a
chair I could get a glimpse of him now and then as he is sent whirlin'
and bumpin' about, like a bottle bobbin' around in rough water. Back and
forth he goes, sometimes touchin' the floor and then again being tossed
toward the ceilin'. Two or three of 'em would get him and start rushin'
him across the room when another bunch would tear him loose and begin
some maneuvers of their own.

Anyway, runnin' the guard seems to be about as strenuou