nd went
down-town to luncheon, and came back still more content and in feeling
with the season, and lighted another cigar.

But just as he had settled himself comfortably he heard Corporal
Goddard's step on the stairs and a less determined step behind him.
He took his feet down from the rung of the other chair, pulled his
undress jacket into place, and took up a pen.

Corporal Goddard saluted at the door and introduced with a wave of his
hand the latest applicant for Uncle Sam's service. The applicant was
as young as Lieutenant Claflin, and as good-looking; but he was dirty
and unshaven, and his eyes were set back in the sockets, and his
fingers twitched at his side. Lieutenant Claflin had seen many
applicants in this stage. He called it the remorseful stage, and was
used to it.

"Name?" said Lieutenant Claflin, as he pulled a printed sheet of paper
towards him.

The applicant hesitated, then he said,

"Walker--John Walker."

The Lieutenant noticed the hesitation, but he merely remarked to
himself, "It's none of my business," and added, aloud, "Nationality?"
and wrote United States before the applicant answered.

The applicant said he was unmarried, was twenty three years old, and
had been born in New York City. Even Corporal Goddard knew this last
was not so, but it was none of his business, either. He moved the
applicant up against the wall under the measuring-rod, and brought it
down on his head.

So he measured and weighed the applicant, and tested his eyesight with
printed letters and bits of colored yarn, and the lieutenant kept
tally on the sheet, and bit the end of his pen and watched the
applicant's face. There were a great many applicants, and few were
chosen, but none of them had quite the air about him which this one
had. Lieutenant Claflin thought Corporal Goddard was just a bit too
callous in the way he handled the applicant, and too peremptory in his
questions; but he could not tell why Corporal Goddard treated them all
in that way. Then the young officer noticed that the applicant's white
face was flushing, and that he bit his lips when Corporal Goddard
pushed him towards the weighing-machine as he would have moved a
barrel of flour.

"You'll answer," said Lieutenant Claflin, glancing at the sheet. "Your
average is very good. All you've got to do now is to sign this, and
then it will be over." But he did not let go of the sheet in his hand,
as he would have done had he wanted it over. Neithe