no place for amateurs and Boy Scouts to
practice their games."

"Y-yes, sir," said Tom, greatly frightened.

The next morning, when the sea was quieter, they rowed his new boss over
in a small boat.

CHAPTER VI

HE HEARS ABOUT ALSACE AND RECEIVES A PRESENT

That was a good lesson for Tom and a practical demonstration of the
wisdom of Mr. Conne's advice. Not that he had exactly gone outside his
duties to indulge his appetite for adventure, but he had had a good
scare which reminded him what a suspicious and particular old gentleman
Uncle Sam is in wartime.

The officer, who had thus frightened him and, in Tom's opinion, cast a
slur upon the Scouts, made matters worse by scrutinizing him (or so he
fancied) whenever they met upon the deck. But that was all there was to
it, and the captain's mess boy did his allotted tasks each day, and
stood for no end of jollying from the soldiers, who called him "Whitey"
and "Eats," because he carried the captain's tray back and forth.

This banter he shared with Frenchy, who took it as good-humoredly as Tom
himself, when he understood it, and when he didn't Tom explained it to
him.

"Ziss--how you call--_can_ ze Kaiser?" he would inquire politely.

"That means putting him in a tin can," said Tom.

"Ze tin can? Ze--how you call--wipe ze floor wiz him?"

"They both mean the same thing," said Tom. "They mean beating him--good
and thorough--kind of."

Frenchy did not seem to understand but he would wave his hands and say
with great vehemence, "Ah, ze Kaiser, he must be defeat! Ze wretch!"

Frenchy's name was Armande Lateur. He was an American by adoption and
though he had spent much time among the people of his own nationality in
Canada, he was strong for Uncle Sam with a pleasant, lingering fondness
for the region of the "blue Alsatian mountains," whence he had come.

It was from Frenchy that Tom learned much which (if he had only known
it) was to serve him well in the perilous days to come.

The day before they entered the danger zone the two, secure for a
little while from the mirthful artillery fire of the soldiers, had a
little chat which Tom was destined long to remember.

They were sitting at dusk in the doorway of the unoccupied guardhouse
which ordinarily was the second cabin smoking-room.

"Alsace-Lorraine is part of Germany," said Tom, his heavy manner of
talking contrasting strangely with Frenchy's excitability. "So you were
a German citizen before