And such a rush as there was when the place was announced! The three motor boys, as treasurers, were accompanied to the counter by a mob of the boys who for themselves or for companions had orders for everything in sight. “I want apple pie!” “Cherry for mine!” “Give me peach!” “What’s the matter with the ‘peachy’ girl behind the counter?” asked some one, and there were many glances of warm but respectful admiration cast at the young girl behind the piles of food on the marble shelf. “Sandwiches--all you got!” demanded Jerry. “And some crullers, if you haven’t enough pie!” added Bob. “I want a _lot_ of crullers. You can put ’em in your pocket!” he confided to Ned. “Put ’em in your pocket? Man, dear! I’m going to put _mine_ in my _stomach_!” “Yes, I know. So’m I--most of ’em,” went on Chunky. “But you can stow away some in your pockets to eat when you get hungry again. They don’t get as mushy as pie.” “You’re the limit!” Ned told his chum. “You haven’t had a feed yet, and you’re thinking of the next one. But go to it! I never felt so hungry in my life.” So Bob went to it, to the extent of stuffing his pockets with crullers, and carrying away as much else as he could in his hands. The girl at the lunch counter would have been swamped, but Jerry organized a sort of helping corps, and dealt out the food to his fellow recruits, making payment in due course, until the counter looked as fields do after a visit from the locusts. Back to the car, only just in time, rushed the boys, bearing things to eat to those of their comrades who had remained in their seats, for some were detailed to remain as a sort of guard over the luggage. “Ah! This is something like!” exclaimed Bob, as he sat in his seat when the train had again started, holding a sandwich in each hand, while his pockets bulged suspiciously. “You seem pretty well provided for,” remarked Ned to his stout chum, as the three motor boys sat together again. “Well, I don’t aim to starve if I can help it,” retorted Bob, as he munched away. “You must weigh five or six pounds more,” added Jerry, with a glance at Bob’s pockets. “That’s dangerous business, old man!” “What?” asked Bob, pausing half-way to a bite of his sandwich. “Putting on weight like that. You must remember that you’re not more than just tall enough to break in under the military requirements, and if you are too heavy for your height--out you go.” “You can’t take away my appetite!” exclaimed Bob, but he did not see Ned wink at Jerry and motion with his head toward the bulging pockets of the stout lad. For a time there was a merry scene in the car, where the prospective soldiers were riding. Hungry appetites were being appeased, and this caused a line of small talk, which had rather died away after the first part of the journey.