“I wint to slape,” said McDermott. “The war was slapin', an' I laid m'silf down b' the side av ut an' took a nap, too. Later, I woke up in the hospital, some wan havin' stipped on me whilst I was slapin', or somethin'. They was afther keep-in' me in th' hospital indefinite, an' I slipped away wan mornin', dodgin' the orderlies an' nurses, or I might have been there yet eatin' jelly an' gettin' me face washed f'r me. An' afther I got back here I thried to jine that war, but th' Amurrican Army w'u'd not have me.” “And phwy not?” “Because av me fut.” “And how did ye hurt y'r fut?” “Divil a bit do I know how,” said McDermott. “I'm tellin' ye 'twas done whilst I was aslape. I remimber gettin' soused in wan av thim Frinch barrooms, an' I w'u'd think it was a mule stipped on me fut whin I was slapin' off me souse, excipt that thim mules was gone before I got me souse.” “An' ye saw naught av the war?” Tim was distinctly disappointed. “But little of ut, but little of ut,” said McDermott. “But, Timmy,--wan thing I did whilst I was in France.” “An' phwat was that?” “I avened up an ould grudge,” said McDermott. He put away a second drink, rolling it over his tongue with satisfaction. “Do ye mind that Goostave Schmidt that used to kape bar acrost the strate? Ye do! Do ye mind th' time he hit me wid th' bung starter? Ye do!” “Phwat thin?” “Well, thin,” said McDermott, “I met up wid him ag'in in wan av thim Frinch barrooms. I do not remimber phwat he said to me nor phwat I said to him, for I was soused, Timmy. But wan word led to another, an' I give him as good as he sint, an' 'twas wid a bung starter, too. I brung it back wid me as a sooveneer av me travels in France.” And, undoing his brown paper bundle, McDermott fished forth from among his change of socks and shirts and underwear the bung starter of the Hôtel Fauçon and laid it upon the bar for his friend's inspection. Something else in the bundle caught O'Toole's eye. “An' phwat is that thing ye have there?” asked Tim. “Divil a bit do I know phwat,” said McDermott, picking the article up and tossing it carelessly upon the bar. “'Twas layin' by me cot in the hospital, along wid m' bung starter an' me clothes whin I come to m'silf, an' whin I made me sneak from that place I brung it along.” It was the _Croix de Guerre_. V.--Looney the Mutt |Looney had but one object in life, one thought, one conscious motive of existence--to find Slim again. After he found Slim, things would be different, things would be better, somehow. Just how, Looney did not know.