Deciding that he would begin to dress, Roger slipped quietly from his cot and began methodically putting on his clothing. When the clarion notes of the bugle, sounding first call, split the drowsy air, he was fully dressed and seated on the edge of his cot, watching with quiet amusement the orderly flurry that had commenced all around him. "Where's my shoe?" came presently in desperate tones from Jimmy, thus centering Roger's attention upon his friend. "It was right beside the other last night. I'll swear to it that I put it there. Now it's gone!" Jimmy's voice rose anxiously on the last word. By this time the call of "I can't get 'em up" was echoing through the barrack. "Here is him." From under his own cot, where Ignace was just snatching his own shoes, he drew Jimmy's missing one and slid it along the bare floor. Jimmy swooped down upon it with a gurgle of relief. Not stopping to inquire how it had wandered there, he hastily put it on and went on dressing at breakneck speed, barely finishing before Reveille, the third and last warning before roll call. Concern for his bunkie's loss drove the subject of the letters from Roger's mind. Returning into the barrack after roll call to make themselves presentable before breakfast, recollection of the missing letters came back to Roger with dismaying force. "Don't forget your letters, Jimmy," he reminded. "Much obliged. I _had_ forgotten. That shoe business rattled me. I'll cinch them now before I visit the sink to make myself beautiful." A few quick strides and he had reached his cot. Following, Roger heard him exclaim: "What in Sam Hill!" Whirling with a grin he called out, "You old fake! You've got those letters! All right. You can just mail 'em." "But I haven't," came the earnest denial. "When I first woke up this morning I looked at the shelf and saw they were gone. I thought you'd put them in some other place." "I put them on _that shelf_," emphasized Jimmy. "What's the matter, I'd like to know? First my shoe turns up under Iggy's cot and then away go all our letters. There's something queer about this. Shoes without feet can't walk off alone. Letters can't disappear without hands. What's the answer?" "Maybe Iggy or Bob took the letters to mail for you," hazarded Roger. "They've gone ahead to scrub up for breakfast and we'd better do the same. You can ask them about it in the mess hall. Don't bother any more about it now. Come on." Frowning, Jimmy obeyed, feeling a trifle nettled over the fact of a second annoying disappearance on the heels of the first. "Did either of you fellows take those letters to mail?" was his initial remark to Bob and Iggy as they met at mess. Receiving a surprised "No" from both, Jimmy turned to Roger with: "What do you know about that?" "Not much." Roger grew grave as he explained the situation to Bob and Iggy.