"But I thought they wouldn't take you when you tried to enlist," said Frank, a little bewildered. "Can you beat it?" returned Tom. "When I wanted to enlist they wouldn't have me. Then when I was moping along and raving against fate I was called up in the draft. The doctors there passed me without letting out a peep. Say, maybe I wasn't tickled to get in on any terms. It makes me sore though, to think I can't be in the old Thirty-seventh along with the rest of you fellows." "Never mind," said Frank. "The main thing is, you're here. We'll be in the same camp and in the same division and we'll be able to see a lot of each other." "I'm not the only Camport fellow that's here," chuckled Tom. "Is that so?" said Frank with interest. "Who is it?" "Give you three guesses," grinned Tom. "Hal Chase!" "Wrong," said Tom. "Will Baxter!" "Come again." "Dick Ormsby!" "You're all off," replied Tom. "But you'd never guess in a thousand years and so I'll put you out of your misery. It's Nick Rabig." "Nick Rabig!" they yelled, in unison. "Cross my heart and hope to die," laughed Tom, enjoying the amazement of his comrades. "Nick Rabig, in a Yankee uniform!" chortled Frank. "And going to fight the Huns!" crowed Bart. "Say, isn't it rich?" "How does he feel about it," asked Frank, surprise and glee giving way to curiosity. "Like a bear with a sore head," responded Tom. "Of course he doesn't dare to say much, but what he's thinking isn't fit for publication!" CHAPTER XII FOR FRANCE The young volunteers looked about for the unwilling conscript and soon caught sight of him, standing moodily apart from the others and with a scowl upon his face as black as a thundercloud. "Papa's little sunshine," chuckled Frank. "Same old cheery disposition," grinned Bart. "Say, if he looked at milk, 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 try anything once." They strolled over to the place where Nick Rabig was standing and saluted him pleasantly. "Hello, Rabig!" cried Frank. "How do you like your first look at our camp?" "If it was the last look I'd like it better," snarled Rabig, his sullen resentment flaring forth at this unexpected sight of his old enemy. "You'll change your mind, maybe, when you've had a chance to look around some," said Bart, still trying to be agreeable, though the strain was telling on him. "Yes," added Frank, "if there's anything we can do for you, let us know." "The only thing you can do for me," said Rabig, his brows drawing together in a still blacker scowl, "is to get out of my sight and stay out." "Oh, so that's all, is it?" said Frank with a careless laugh as they turned away. "Well, that's the easiest thing we ever had to do; eh, fellows?"