“Poor old Roy! It’s the first time I’ve really seen him so sick at heart as to show it keenly. But who can blame him? He’d rather fight than eat and now he’s got to sit by and see us go without him.” So thought the youth on the upper deck, as he long held up his fluttering handkerchief. And then, after not many days of glorious, semi-savage anticipation, there followed disembarkation at an obscure port of France and our returning hero, with many others, sauntered to the billets, laughing, some singing: “Where do We Go from Here?” and “There’ll be a Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight.” Suddenly the young officer’s arm was seized, he was whirled about and found himself face to face with another lad, evidently a little younger, but quite as tall, with the accustomed military bearing, but upon his khaki sleeve reposed the familiar and much loved insignia of the Red Cross. “Herb Whitcomb, or I’m a shad! You old dear, you! But ain’t it good to run smack into a son-of-a-gun from Old Brighton? And what now and where are you----?” “You’ve got me, comrade--” the Lieutenant began, eyeing the speaker narrowly for a moment, his brows set in a puzzled wrinkle as the other grinned at the very idea of not being recognized by an old friend and classmate. Herbert, in turn, suddenly grabbed him, seizing him by the shoulders and chuckling with real delight. “Don--Don Richards, by the wild, whistling wizard! You boy! Glory, but I’m glad to see you! But say, man----” “Say it--that I’ve changed a bit. Must have for you not to have known me.” Don fell into step with Herbert. “Yes, you have indeed! Sun-dyed like a pirate and older, somehow. But I knew that grin. The great thing about it is that you’re alive and looking fit as a fiddle. Why, man, we heard you’d been wounded past recovery--hit with a shrapnel.” “Shrapnel all right, but it was uncommonly kind to me. Piece just went through my left shoulder and now it’s only a little stiff at times. Clem Stapley and I were together out there beyond Bouresches; the Belleau Wood scrap. He was hurt badly and I was trying to bring him in.” Don spoke mere facts; not with boastfulness. “Red Cross work; we heard that, too. Clem pulled through; didn’t he?” the lieutenant questioned. “Yes, just, but he won’t be good enough to join in again. Went back home last ship, three days ago. I didn’t go because Major Little came after me to serve again.” “Why don’t you?” “Well, I guess I ought to. It’s got under my skin, but I’d like to get a glimpse of the good old U. S. Came off this boat; didn’t you? Don asked.” “Just landed. Going back to my company; can’t help it; it’s permeated my carcass, too, with the gas I got near Montdidier. Poor Roy Flynn, you know, lost a leg, but he wanted to come back, nevertheless. I’m billeting with this bunch of fellows. Where are you stopping?”