"
"Well, then," said Phipps-Herrick, grabbing him by the shoulders
and shaking him good-humoredly, "you murderous little pacifist
with seven nicks on your gun, will you give up your German? Will
you forget it?"
Mitchell chuckled and shook his head,
"As far as requisite under military orders. But no further, not by
a--"
A pair of muddy boots was heard and seen descending one of
the ladders, followed by the manly and still rather neat form of
Lieutenant Barker Bunn, a Cornell man from West Philadelphia. The
three men sprang to their feet and saluted smartly, for the lieutenant
was very stiff about all the preliminary forms.
"Too loud talking here," he said gruffly. "I heard you before I
came down. Who is here? Oh, I see, Sergeant Phipps-Herrick, Privates
Rosenlaube and Mitchell. It's your turn to go out on listening
post to-night, sergeant. Twelve sharp, stay three hours, go as far
as you can, come back and report, take Mitchell or Rosenlaube with
you. Captain's orders."
The sergeant saluted again, and the two men looked at each other.
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