And then there was the long, hard pull in Texas. Some of the boys “washed out.” Jack was determined not to let that happen to him. It did not. He disliked the heat and the great, flat plains of Texas, but most of the time he had been too busy to notice them. Before long it was time for that new suit of blues and the brief ceremony that made him an ensign and gave him his wings. Deck training at Great Lakes, then a short leave to bid farewell to the folks at home. Those fleeting days in the old home town left delightful, exciting memories. The good folks of the little city had done their best to show him that they really appreciated the sacrifices he must make to fight for them. He even forgave the old golfers who had threatened to report him when he had scared them half to death on his flying visit to the golf course months before. When it came time to go he had told Pop and Mom good-by at home because he wanted it that way. At the last moment Patsy had insisted on walking to the depot with him. When the train whistled, she had put out a hand for a good, honest handshake, and had said, “Well, so long old pal. Have a good time. Take good care of yourself, and plea—please come back, for we all need you so much!” Patsy’s voice had sounded a bit strange. He could hear her still, “Plea—please come back.” It was strange about him and Patsy. He looked off toward the sun now hanging low over the dark, blue sea, and at the green jungle at his feet. Yes, this was a great little world over here. He’d like to come back some time. But just now, how he’d like to be back in the old home town! CHAPTER XVII VOICES IN THE NIGHT Jack dreamed until the sun was low; finally he heard Stew giving the call of a parakeet, the signal they had agreed upon. He squawked in answer, then gathered up his violin and went hurrying down the hill. “What were you going to do,” Stew exclaimed when they were together again, “dream up there all day and half the night?” “Not quite,” Jack laughed. “But you have to take time to relax, even in war, or you’re likely to crack up.” “You’ll never crack!” Stew was tired. “Look what I got for supper!” He held up his catch. “Fish! Oh, boy!” Jack made a brave attempt at expressing joy. “You’d be thankful for fish,” said Stew, “if you’d been through what I have!” “What happened?” Jack was curious. “Plenty. I saw a small porker and followed him. He really looked young. But when he got all hot and bothered he turned and squealed angrily at me. And boy! His tusks seemed to be at least two feet long. I went up a tree, which was a job in itself. Anyway, there was a strange bird up in that tree. I wanted to have a look at that bird,” Stew ended with a drawl. “Not a rooster?” Jack grinned.