Shortly after their arrival, the barrack contingent began dropping in by twos and threes, among them Roger and Bob. Regardless of all comers, Ignace's sing-song recitation never flagged. Disturbed by the increasing amount of stir and conversation, his tones rose unconsciously with it until gradually he became an object of attention. Nor was he in the least aware of the curious and mirthful glances launched in his direction. Even the voices of his three Brothers, talking together so near to him, failed to distract his attention from his "job." "There sits a living monument to my usefulness," muttered Bob, jerking his head toward Iggy. "I wouldn't butt in on him for the world. He's forgotten we're alive. Just listen to him." Roger's eyes rested for an instant on the absorbed Pole, then traveled about the squad-room. What he saw brought a quick frown to his forehead. "Iggy," he remonstrated. "Keep your voice down. You're getting noisy." "So-o!" The reciter straightened up with a jerk as though coming to Attention. "I no mean make the noise. You 'scuse." "_I_ don't care," Roger laughed. "I only told you for your own good. The fellows up here will start to kid you if you keep it up. That's all." "Thank." Ignace cast a sheepish glance about him. Encountering more than one smiling face he colored slightly, then doggedly returned to his task. Though his lips continued to move, his voice was no longer heard. Luckily for him, his arch-tormentor, Bixton, was absent from the squad-room and so missed a chance to jeer at the "Poley Pet" as he had sneeringly dubbed Ignace. When, shortly before call to mess, he sauntered into the room, he cast a scowling glance toward the latter. He had anticipated the pleasure of seeing "that thick fathead" banished to the awkward squad. In consequence he was disappointed, not so much on Iggy's account, but more because of Jimmy's peppery championship of the former. He had begun by jeering at Iggy purely because he considered him a glaring mark for ridicule. Jimmy's interference had aroused in him a fierce dislike for both boys which was not likely to die out in a hurry. The presence of the acting first sergeant, who had come up the stairs behind him, alone served to keep him discreetly within bounds. His bunkie, however, a lank, hard-featured man, whose small black eyes had a disagreeable trick of narrowing until almost half shut, lost no time in regaling the newcomer with the latest news from across the aisle, laughing loudly as he related it. Seated side by side on the latter's cot the two were a fitting pair. At least, so Jimmy thought, his usually pleasant mouth curving scornfully as he viewed them for a second, then turned his back squarely upon the obnoxious couple.