When Chick had made out what it was that he had picked up, it occurred to him that one of the singing boys ahead of him might have dropped it. He hurried to catch up with them, and called, but, in their exuberance of jollity, they failed to hear him. It was not until he was almost in touch with them that his voice reached their ears. “Say,” he cried, “did any of you fellows drop anything?” They suspended their musical efforts for the moment, stopped and faced him. “Did we what?” asked one of them. “Drop anything? let anything fall? lose anything out o’ your pockets?” “What are you giving us, Chick? Is this one of your practical jokes?” “Honest to goodness, no!” declared Chick. “I thought one o’ you might ’a’ dropped something; say like a--a pocketbook, or something like that.” “Have we, boys? Has any one lost a pocketbook?” The speaker faced his companions, each one of whom made immediate search of his pockets. Then, practically in unison, they declared that nothing of the kind had been lost. “Why?” asked another one in the group. “Have you found a pocketbook?” “No,” replied Chick truthfully, “I ain’t.” “Then what in Sam Hill are you holding us up for, and scrapping the finest music that ever came from human throats?” “Oh,” replied Chick, “I just wanted to know, that’s all. If they ain’t none o’ you lost nothin’, w’y then o’ course I ain’t found it.” “Boys,” said a third one of the company, “are we going to stand for a thing like this? This levity at our expense must cease. He’s a Hun. What shall we do with him?” “Give him the g. b. in a blanket on the armory lawn next drill night. All in favor say aye!” There was a chorus of ayes. “Forward, march! Hip! hip! hip!” The ranks were reformed and the fun-loving young fellows marched on. Chick smiled. He knew that these boys were fond of him, and would sooner have suffered torture than have done him any harm. But he congratulated himself on his diplomacy. He knew that if he had told them that it was a letter he had found they would have insisted upon seeing it, perhaps upon reading it, since the envelope was unsealed. And some deep sense of chivalry warned the boy that a letter addressed to “Miss,” whoever she might be, was not intended for the public eye.