“You know what I’m talkin’ about all right. And so do I. And I’m tellin’ ya to thank me fer savin’ yer goose.” “How?” “Well, I told the sergeant the last time he came lookin’ fer ya that he ought to be ashamed of himself thinkin’ that a pure sweet boy like you would ever have anything like that!” “And what did he say to that?” I asked, relieved at last. “Said he’s gettin’ sick o’ huntin’ you.” Ben indulged in an expectorational feat and smiled at me knowingly. “An’ so I says, ‘Y’er wastin’ yer time, sergeant. Why’n’t ya just check him off and call it square?’” “What did he say to that?” “Said, ‘How the hell do I know but what he’s got seven varieties of venereal disease?’” “Well—come on! What did you tell him then? I don’t see how you’ve saved me anything.” I was beginning to have fears again. “Ya know what I said?” Ben demanded rhetorically. “I says, ‘Why, sergeant, that kid ain’t never been with a woman in his life! There ain’t no more chance o’ his havin’ one o’ them diseases than there is o’ me bein’ captain o’ this ship!’ And he says, ‘Is that a fact?’ And I says, ‘Absolutely—he don’t even know what a woman looks like underneath! He’s the dumbest greenhorn ya ever saw!’ And so the sergeant looks at me a minute and then he says, ‘Well, I haven’t time to chase after him any more anyway. We’re going to dock to-night and land in the morning, and as far as the C. O. knows Canwick’s been examined just like the rest of us.’” I almost fell on the big galoot’s neck, but he had not yet finished his recital. “I says, ‘Ye’re just savin’ yourself work, sergeant—needless work. I give ya my word o’ honor Canwick ain’t been near a woman an’ he ain’t got nothin’ the matter with him.’ An’ he says, ‘All right, to hell with him then.’ And that’s the end o’ that, see!” I laughed at his seriousness and told him, “I’m glad you have such faith in me, Ben. Thanks a whole lot.” “Faith in ya!” he exclaimed, as if I had insulted his intelligence. “Say, ya don’t suppose I’m dumb enough to believe that myself, do ya? I just lied for ya, that’s all. I don’t wanta see ya get in trouble and lose yer stripes.” “But there’s nothing the matter with me, you big goof!” I retorted. He just laughed at me. “I don’t care whether ya have or not—but you see that ya use yer own towel after this!” So we just sat there for a while, neither of us saying anything. I was sorry he had that idea in his head, but I was mighty glad to know that the inspection terror was at least temporarily alleviated. Finally I thanked him for troubling to lie for me, “although it really wasn’t necessary, as you think it was.”