CHAPTER XII
FOR FRANCE
The young volunteers looked about for the unwilling conscript and sooncaught sight of him, standing moodily apart from the others and with ascowl upon his face as black as a thundercloud.
"Papa's little sunshine," chuckled Frank.
"Same old cheery disposition," grinned Bart. "Say, if he looked atmilk, he'd turn it sour."
"I suppose we ought to go over and speak to him," said Frank,thoughtfully. "He must feel like a cat in a strange garret."
"Maybe you're right," said Bart, doubtfully. "I'm willing to tryanything once."
They strolled over to the place where Nick Rabig was standing andsaluted him pleasantly.
"Hello, Rabig!" cried Frank. "How do you like your first look at ourcamp?"
"If it was the last look I'd like it better," snarled Rabig, his sullenresentment flaring forth at this unexpected sight of his old enemy.
"You'll change your mind, maybe, when you've had a chance to lookaround some," said Bart, still trying to be agreeable, though thestrain was telling on him.
"Yes," added Frank, "if there's anything we can do for you, let usknow."
"The only thing you can do for me," said Rabig, his brows drawingtogether in a still blacker scowl, "is to get out of my sight and stayout."
"Oh, so that's all, is it?" said Frank with a careless laugh as theyturned away. "Well, that's the easiest thing we ever had to do; eh,fellows?"
"You said it," they agreed as they walked on, leaving Rabig to glareafter them with helpless hatred in his eyes.
After that, though they remained in camp several weeks, the boys sawlittle of Nick Rabig and were just as well satisfied. Friction was notin their line. They preferred the easy, happy comradeship that existedamong nine-tenths of the fellows.
"I should think," said Bart, after a day of particularly hard butfruitful practice, "that we were almost ready to meet the Germans."
"Well, I don't know about that," returned Frank. "But I shouldn'twonder if we'd soon be sent over to France to finish our trainingbehind the lines."
"Right you are," said Billy Waldon, strolling tip with Tom. "Ioverheard a couple of officers talking about the immediate plans forthe regiment, and they seemed to think that we might expect ordersalmost any time to go to a camp nearer the sea."
"And from there I suppose we go across," said Tom.
"I hope that's right!" cried Frank, eagerly. "I'm just spoiling to getinto action."
"All the fellows feel that way," said Bart.
"All but Rabig," put in Tom with a grin.
One day, the longed-for orders came and the camp with its thirtythousand men hummed with excitement and activity. About ten o'clockone bright sunshiny morning the regiment marched out of the gates ofCamp Boone, to the martial music of its band, no longer a collection ofraw recruits but a company of trained, vigorous young soldiers, readyand fit for any work their country might apportion them.
Two days and two nights they spent on the train and on the morning ofthe third day started the march to the camp which was to be their shortabiding place.
"Say, fellows, you can smell the ocean!" cried Frank, drawing in deepbreaths of the invigorating, salt-laden air. "Say, I'm not a bitanxious to get on it!"
"You'll be lucky," responded Bart, who was hungry and therefore not ascheerful as was his wont, "if you don't find yourself under it beforeyou get through. They say those submarines are doing pretty slickwork."
"They may be doing now," said Frank whose high spirits refused to bedampened even by hunger, "but some day they're going to get done! Youjust let that sink home, Bart, my boy."
"I'd rather let some good juicy beefsteak sink home, just now,"grumbled Bart, rebelliously. "If I have to feel like this much, Iwon't mind being sunk!"
An hour later, however, Bart's spirits had soared to ecstatic heights.His voracious appetite had been satisfied--and with beefsteak.
One night, less than a week later, a startling thing happened. Theboys had turned in as usual sharp at nine o'clock, and were in the deepsleep of exhausted youth when they were suddenly awakened by theimperative notes of a bugle.
"Wh-what's that?" cried Frank, sitting up on his cot and straining hiseyes through the darkness. "It's reveille--but it's dark as pitch."
"It c-can't be morning," stuttered Bart, while a babel of questions andanswers arose all about them. "Gee, isn't six o'clock bad enoughwithout getting routed out at--what time is it, Frank--my watch hasgone on a strike."
"Just two o'clock," returned Frank, consulting his radio watch, whileall about him was noise and confusion as the boys hastily got intotheir things. "I know what it is," he added, shouting to make himselfheard above the din. "The time's come to sail and they didn't give usany warning for fear the news would get out! Bart, here's adventurefor you!"
"Sure, I'll begin to enjoy it too," grumbled Bart, "when I get my eyesopen."
The boys never forgot that ghostly march to the great transport whichwas to bear them across to the scene of conflict. No sound was heard,save the steady tramp, tramp of their feet, the occasional hoot of anowl far off in the woodland, and the eerie sighing of the wind amongthe trees.
When at last, after several miles of this weird marching, the huge,shadowy bulk of a ship rose before them, their hearts beat madly andthey thrilled with a wild exultation.
Silently they marched on board. Then, the whispered commands ofofficers to men, the throbbing of the screws, the soft gliding of thegreat ship from the pier--and they were off!
"For France," murmured Frank, his eyes gleaming in the starlight. "ForFrance and victory!"