xiously. They were
room-mates, and Nick was well aware of Nosey's tendencies in the way of
breaking minor rules. As soon as he could get out of the mess, he
hurried down past the Adjutant's office, and hastily framing an errand,
went in. The room was empty.

Nick hurried over to the barracks to their room. Sitting on the side
of his narrow bunk, his hands clenched, his face white, was Zaidos.

"What's the row, old top?" Nick sang out cheerfully as he made a great
pretense of picking up his books and stuffing a couple of pencils in
the top of his pigskin puttee.

The young Greek shook his head, and Nick realized that it was something
indeed very serious with him.

"What _is_ the row, old man?" he said again, coming over and sitting
beside his friend. "What has the Adjutant got in for you this time?"

"Nothing," said Zaidos. "He had a cablegram from home. It is pretty
bad, Nick . . ." He paused. "My father is sick; fact is, he is dying;
and I've got to leave to-night."

"Gosh!" exclaimed Nick. "That's too bad! I'm more than sorry!"

"Yes, it's bad," said Zaidos. "And the queer thing is that I don't
seem to feel as sorry about my father dying as I do to think that I
don't _know_ him any better. Think of it, Nick, I came over here to
school when I was not quite seven. My mother died when I was six, and
since that I have seen my father twice; once when he came over here,
and the year I went home. And it is not as though there was not plenty
of money. I suppose my father is the richest man, or one of the
richest men, in Greece. He's just--Oh, I don't know! He never seemed
to be like a lot of fathers I have seen. I never could get _next_ to
him. And I've been pretty lonely most all my life. I have always
planned to go back as soon as I finished school, and get acquainted
with my father. I thought if I tried, I could make him like me. I
suppose he does well enough, but I wanted to be chummy with him. I
thought I could if I tried."

"You bet you could, Nosey!" said Nick, an arm over the bowed shoulder
beside him. "You could warm up a wooden Indian, you old live-wire,
you! I jolly well know you! You would get under the crust if anyone
could! Perhaps it isn't as bad as they think. You go home, and
perhaps your father will get better, and you will get to be the best
chums in the world. Cheer up, old chap! It will come out all right.
Do you really go tonight?"

"Yes, I go to-night. They have