Andrews took the hand doubtfully, without moving from the edge of the barge. “Say, Buddy, it's a damn fool thing to take off your uniform. Ain't you got any? If they pick you up like that it's life, kid.” “I can't help it. It's done now.” “Gawd, you still think I'm an M.P., don't yer?... I swear I ain't. Maybe you are. Gawd, it's hell, this life. A feller can't put his trust in nobody.” “What division are you from?” “Hell, I came to warn you this bastard frawg's got soused an' has been blabbin' in the gin mill there how he was an anarchist an' all that, an' how he had an American deserter who was an anarchist an' all that, an' I said to myself: 'That guy'll git nabbed if he ain't careful,' so I cottoned up to the old frawg an' said I'd go with him to see the camarade, an' I think we'd better both of us make tracks out o' this burg.” “It's damn decent. I'm sorry I was so suspicious. I was scared green when I first saw you.” “You were goddam right to be. But why did yous take yer uniform off?” “Come along, let's beat it. I'll tell you about that.” Andrews shook hands with the old man and the old woman. Rosaline had disappeared. “Goodnight...Thank you,” he said, and followed the other man across the gangplank. As they walked away along the road they heard the old man's voice roaring: “Les bourgeois a la lanterne, nom de dieu!” “My name's Eddy Chambers,” said the American. “Mine's John Andrews.” “How long've you been out?” “Two days.” Eddy let the air out through his teeth in a whistle. “I got away from a labor battalion in Paris. They'd picked me up in Chartres without a pass.” “Gee, I've been out a month an' more. Was you infantry too?” “Yes. I was in the School Detachment in Paris when I was picked up. But I never could get word to them. They just put me to work without a trial. Ever been in a labor battalion?” “No, thank Gawd, they ain't got my number yet.” They were walking fast along a straight road across a plain under a clear star-powdered sky. “I been out eight weeks yesterday. What'd you think o' that?” said Eddy. “Must have had plenty of money to go on.” “I've been flat fifteen days.” “How d'you work it?” “I dunno. I juss work it though.... Ye see, it was this way. The gang I was with went home when I was in hauspital, and the damn skunks put me in class A and was goin' to send me to the Army of Occupation. Gawd, it made me sick, goin' out to a new outfit where I didn't know anybody, an' all the rest of my bunch home walkin' down Water Street with brass bands an' reception committees an' girls throwing kisses at 'em an' all that. Where are yous goin'?” “Paris.” “Gee, I wouldn't. Risky.” “But I've got friends there. I can get hold of some money.” “Looks like I hadn't got a friend in the world. I wish I'd gone to that goddam outfit now.... I ought to have been in the engineers all the time, anyway.” “What did you do at home?” “Carpenter.”