eyes.
"Well, I said we'd be delighted to use him, and told him where to
report and then, though it wasn't my business, I asked his name. And
what do you think he told me?"
I shook my head.
"He gave his name as John Donaldson," stated the boy.
"What!" I asked bewildered. "This man in Italy was called----"
"By my name," the boy said slowly. "John Donaldson."
I reasoned a bit. "John Donaldson" is a name not impossible to be
duplicated. "It was devilish odd," I said, "to run into your own handle
like that, wasn't it?"
The boy went on. "At that second Ted Frith ran along shouting, '7:30.
Better hurry. Coffee's waiting.' So I threw the strange man a good-bye
and bolted.
"That day we were going some. They were heaving eggs from the other
side of the Piave and we were bringing back wounded to the dressing
stations as fast as we could make it over that wrecked land; going back
faster for more. When I stopped for chow at midday, I found Ted Frith
near me, eating also.
"'Remember the old boy you were talking to this morning?' asked Ted
between two mouthfuls of dum-dums--that's beans, Uncle Bill. I 'lowed I
remembered the old boy; in fact he'd stuck in my mind all day.
"'Well,' Ted went on, 'he's a ring-tailed snorter. He's got an American
uniform, tin derby and all, and he's up in the front trenches in the
cold and mud with his chocolates and stuff, talking the lingo to the
wops and putting heart into them something surprising. They're cheering
up wherever he goes. Good work.'
"That afternoon I ran into the man under hot fire hurrying down the
communication trench for more stuff. He looked as pleased as a boy with
a new pony. 'Hello,' I yelled across the noise. 'How do you like our
Italy? They tell me you're helping a lot.'
"He stopped and stared with those queerly homelike, big eyes. 'Do
they?' he smiled. 'It's the best time I've had for years, sir.'
"'Needn't _sir_ me,' I explained. 'I'm not an officer.'
"'Ah, but you are--my superior officer,' he argued in a courteous,
lovely way. 'I'm a recruit--raw recruit. Certainly I must say _sir_, to
you.'
"'Duck there,' I shouted. 'You're on a rise--you'll be hit.'
"He glanced around. 'If you knew what a treat I'd consider it to be
done for wearing this.' He looked down and slapped his big knee in its
khaki. 'But if I'm helping, it's the game to keep whole. You see, sir,'
and he laughed out loud--'this is my good day. I'm American to-day,
sir!'
"A
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