Cracky, I never saw Jib Jab so serious before. He said, “Oh, I was just one of the heroes that didn’t get a job, that’s all. I’m a happy-go-lucky.” “Same here,” Harry said, and he just kept looking at him, awful sharp and searching, kind of. “I came back from France broke.” “Same here,” Harry said. “And I just thought I’d try to pull together a bit before I hit the trail for home,” Jib Jab went on. “I had a little over two hundred dollars to bring home to my old dad, but they relieved me of it in a sailors’ dance hall over in Brest.” “Live up near Plattsburg, eh?” “Yop, and I started home as soon as I was mustered out, but didn’t make it. Just couldn’t face the old folks—busted. I tried to get a job in Albany, in Poughkeepsie; nothing doing. Worked for a couple of days for a farmer over here in Elm Center, then hit the circus. Circus is a great place when you’re down and out. Ever work in a circus?” “I kinder think I’d like to,” Harry said; “I’ve done most everything else.” “So here I am among the missing till I can save as much as I promised to bring home. I sent the old gent a letter saying I had two hundred bucks. I don’t know who’s got that two hundred, but I know one thing; I’m not going up to Greendale till I have that much. I’m not human till then.” “Old gent write you a letter?” Harry asked, kind of careless. “Yop, and warned me. Didn’t do much good.” For about a minute Harry just sat there smoking and Jib Jab did the same thing. Neither one of them spoke. Harry was whistling _Over There_. Then he reached down into his pocket and threw a roll of bills into Jib Jab’s lap. “Here’s your two hundred, Jib,” he said; “and here’s part of the letter. Let’s have a squint at that ring, will you?” Gee whiz, I guess you could have knocked Jib Jab down with a feather. CHAPTER XXXI JIB JAB’S STORY Then Harry told him all about his adventure out on the ocean and how he found the dead man in the boat, and the money. “Funny thing, too,” he said; “but we were trying to dope out the meaning of that letter, all sitting around the camp-fire. We even thought we could see the old gent. Old veteran, isn’t he? Huh, that’s just what we thought. Blamed funny thing, a camp-fire.” Jib Jab didn’t say anything, only just looked straight ahead of him. Harry just kept smoking and swinging his legs. “Guess we hit it about right, hey?” he said. Jib Jab just kept looking straight ahead of him. “Pretty near,” he said. He sounded kind of strange. Even still he didn’t put the money in his pocket, or the water-soaked letter either, but they just stayed where Harry threw them, on the bathrobe. “Pretty tough, being broke,” Harry said. “Bet the old gent’ll be proud to see you. Under Grant, I suppose?” “Sherman,” Jib Jab said, very quiet. Then neither of them spoke for about a couple of minutes, only Harry asked him for a light. “Ever get mixed up with the boy scouts, Jib?” Harry asked him.