“I’m goin’ quick,” he said.

“When do we leave?” demanded Wilbur.

“I’m leavin’ in two days.”

“We’re leaving in two days.”

They chewed gum for an interval.

“Way it is,” said Spike at length, “I’m nothing but about a fourth-rater in my game.  I wasn’t never a first-rater.  I used to kid myself I was, but handier guys took it out of me.  Never was better than a third-rater, I guess.  But maybe in this other game I could git to be a first-rater.  You can’t tell.  I still got the use of myself, ain’t I?  And I wouldn’t be so much afraid as a guy who never fought no fights at all.  It looks good to me.  Of course I don’t know much about this here talk you read—­makin’ the world safe for Democrats, and so forth, but they’s certain parts of it had ought to be made unsafe for Germans.  I got that much straight.”

“Where do we go from here?” demanded Wilbur Cowan.

“N’York,” said Spike.  “Enlist there.  I got a friend in Tamm’ny will see we git treated right.”

“Treated right—­how?”

“Sent over quick—­not kept here.  This guy is high up; he can get us sent.”

“Good!”

“Only thing worries me,” said Spike—­“sleepin’ out of doors.  It ain’t healthy.  They tell me you sleep any old place—­on the ground or in a chicken coop—­makes no matter.  I never did sleep out of doors, and I hate to begin now; but I s’pose I got to.  Mebbe, time we git there, they’ll have decent beds.  I admit I’m afraid of sleepin’ out on the ground.  It ain’t no way to keep your health.”

He ruminated busily with the gum.

“Another thing, kid, you got to remember.  In the box-fightin’ game sometimes even second money is good.  I pulled down a few nice purses in my time.  But this here gun-fightin’ stuff, it’s winner take all every time.  In a gun fight second money is mud.  Remember that.  And we ain’t got the education to be officers.  We got to do plain fightin’.”

“Plain fighting!” echoed Wilbur.  “And I’ll tell you another thing.  From what I hear they might put me to driving a car, but you bet I ain’t going to take that long trip and get seasick, probably, just to fool round with automobiles.  I’m going to be out where you are—­plain fighting.  So remember this—­I don’t know a thing about cars or motors.  Never saw one till I come into the Army.”

“You’re on!” said Spike.  “Now let’s eat while we can.  They tell me over in the war your meals is often late.”

They ate at T-bone Tommy’s, consuming a vast quantity of red meat with but a minor accompaniment of vegetables.  They were already soldiers.  They fought during the meal several sharp engagements, from which they emerged without a scratch.

“We’ll be takin’ a lot of long chances, kid,” cautioned Spike.  “First thing we know—­they might be saying it to us with flowers.”

“Let ’em talk!” said the buoyant Wilbur.  “Of course we’ll get into trouble sooner or later.”