Sick call is sounded morning and afternoon. It is the first sergeant's duty to enter on sick report the names of all enlisted men who report to him that they are not well, or think they are not well. Then, when sick call sounds, the first sergeant marches to hospital with the men whose names he has entered on sick report. "Fall in, Kelly," ordered the young sergeant. "I'll not take salts or quinine," insisted Kelly. "You'll march to sick call, just the same. Fall in!" So in step, and briskly, Hal and Private Kelly marched over to the little building which, at Fort Benjamin Franklin, was dignified with the name of hospital. The acting hospital steward was there waiting for them. As this small command did not have a commissioned medical officer the steward attended to all cases of minor illness. When occasion warranted it the German physician was summoned from Bantoc to prescribe for the men. "The sick list, steward," reported Hal, handing over the official paper on which Kelly's name alone appeared. "What ails you, Kelly?" asked the steward. "Nothing," Kelly answered defiantly. "Then you'll have to discover an ailment soon," frowned the steward, "or I'll ask Sergeant Overton to report you for shamming sick report." "Why, truth to tell, I didn't feel very well," asserted Kelly. "But that was two hours ago. I'm feeling fine now." "Let me see your tongue," ordered the steward. He also "took" Kelly's pulse and noted his respirations, entering all this information on his record. "Any pain anywhere, Kelly?" "Sorra the bit," promptly rejoined the soldier. "You're just a little off-key," went on the hospital steward, with a professional air. "Not much; still, you'd better have some medicine." "I can't take salts," protested Kelly. "They make me sea-sick. Give me salts, and ye'll have to find a bed for me here, and take care of me for a few days." "Quinine is about your size," replied the steward, reaching for a five-pound can of the stuff. "That'll kill me, entirely!" "Four ten-grain doses never killed any man," insisted the steward. "I won't take it!" "Oh, yes, you will, Kelly. This is the Army, and discipline is the rule. I'll make sure of the first dose by seeing you take it here." The hospital steward's tone was firm, and under the regulations he was master of the situation. "Then, for the love of Mike," gasped Kelly, "give me the bitter stuff in a capsule." "Certainly, if you like it that way, Kelly," assented the steward, picking up a gelatine ten-grain capsule and packing it tight with the white, bitter powder. "I don't like it any way," growled Kelly. "Now, that's nonsense, man. Why, all the medical authorities are agreed that quinine is the greatest blessing to man ever discovered." "Then why don't the doctors take more of it themselves?" scowled Private Kelly. "Here you are," continued the steward, capping the capsule and passing it to the unwilling victim.