"Well," Roger looked reflective, "I never had that happen to me but once. It was when I worked in that shipping department. There was a boy about my size or maybe a little bigger who wouldn't let me alone. He'd make mistakes and then lay them to me. At last I got sick of it and gave him a good licking. He let me alone after that. You couldn't do that with an Army officer, though. You'd have to stand it and say nothing. Anyway, I don't believe you'd find one officer in a thousand that wouldn't treat you fairly. It's just as much to them to have the respect of their men as it is to the men to have the good will of their officers." Unconsciously Roger had voiced the opinion that prevails from coast to coast among both commissioned and non-commissioned officers in the United States Service. The mistaken impression that those who have been placed in commands in the National Army are a brow-beating, bullying lot is fast passing. The Army officer of to-day respects himself too much to abuse his authority. He also values the good will of his men too greatly to abuse them. All this, however, the Khaki Boys were presently to learn for themselves. "I guess your head's level," conceded Jimmy. "I'm glad you licked that shipping-room dub. I hate a _sneak_!" The explosive utterance caused the heads of two young men in the seat in front of their own to turn simultaneously in Jimmy's direction. One of them, a dark, thin-faced lad with twinkling black eyes and a wide, pleasant mouth, spoke. "Hope you didn't mean me," he offered good-humoredly. The other, stockily-built, his pale, stolid features bearing the unmistakable cast of the foreigner, stared at Jimmy out of round, china-blue eyes, with the unblinking gaze of an owl. "Course not," apologized Jimmy, reddening. "Why should I mean you?" "I don't know, I'm sure." The smiling lips widened to a broad grin. "You said it pretty loudly. It almost made me jump." "Well, I meant it," maintained Jimmy stoutly, "but not for you. I meant it for any fellow, though, who isn't square and above-board." "Shake." The black-eyed youth half-raised himself in his seat and offered Jimmy his hand. His companion continued to stare dumbly, as though dazed by the suddenness of the whole thing. "I saw you at the recruiting station the other day," observed Roger, addressing the boy who had offered his hand. "You were just coming out of the place as I was going in." "I saw you, too," nodded the other. "That used to be my business; just seeing people and things and writing 'em up afterward. I was a cub reporter on the _Chronicle_. Then I got the enlisting habit and here I am." "Every morning I read him, that paper," announced a solemn voice. The dumb had come into speech. "_You_ write him?" The questioning round blue eyes looked awe upon his seatmate. "Ha, ha! That's a good one," shouted the ex-reporter gleefully. "Say, Oscar, what do you take me for?"