"_I_ haven't a hundred cents," confessed Jimmy cheerfully. "My father gives me an allowance on the first of every month. I'm always broke before the tenth. I just came home from Langley--that's a prep school--in June. I'd be in Harvard next fall if this hadn't happened. Maybe I will be anyhow. Hope not. I'd hate to be turned down. I don't believe I will be, though. I'm pretty husky. I've never taken a drink of anything stronger than ginger ale, and I hardly ever smoke. I've never been sick, either, since I had the measles. That was long ago. I played quarterback on the football team at Langley, and I hold the record there for the hundred-yard dash." "My, you've done a lot of things, haven't you?" admired Roger. "I've always wanted to play football, but never had a chance to learn how. I'm good and strong, though. Hard work's made me so." "When we get to camp, maybe we'll meet some nice fellows that want to organize a football team. Then you'll get a chance to play. It's a great old game, all right." "That would be fine," glowed Roger. The two lads whom Chance had so curiously thrown together were beginning already to plan as if their enlistment were an assured fact. Judging from outward appearances, Uncle Sam would be only too glad to number them among the khaki-clad host of young patriots, so soon to receive in a foreign land their baptism of fire and steel. Of almost the same height, about five feet ten inches, their clear eyes, healthfully tinted cheeks and straight, spare boyish figures showed the admirable result of clean living. "Here we are." Jimmy had brought his roadster to a full stop before a tall, rather dingy brick building. The huge plate-glass front of the ground floor was filled with large placards of soldiers, resplendent in the becoming uniform of the United States Army. Straight across the top of it a white banner stretched from one side to the other. It bore in large black letters the pertinent legend, "Do Your Bit for Your Country: Enlist NOW!" "That's us." Jimmy leaped from his car and nodded jovially at the sign. Roger landed on the sidewalk only a second behind him. "Forward march and mind your step, Roger, old pal! We're going to do our bit, all right, if Uncle Sam'll take us." Side by side, their boyish faces illumined by the light of patriotism, the two swung up the short flight of steps, splendid examples of sturdy, buoyant young American manhood. Yes, there was little doubt that Uncle Sam would take them. CHAPTER II OFF TO CAMP STERLING