Adventure Magazine, March 1916 — page 220: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

218 yours, and the records were proven to be quite correct.”’ “T’m very glad to hear that, sir.” “Hrruh—yes, quite naturally. Of course I shall explain to headquarters. You may also like to know that I have recommended you for a medal of honor and your men for certificates of merit.” “Thank you, General.” . “No thanks, no thanks. Deserved it, deserved it.” The General searched for more words; but it suddenly occurred to him that there were places where a man could be more at ease than fe could facing this respectful, brown-eyed boy. “T think,” he said, leave it to you two.” “I think—well, I’ When her father had gone, the suffused girl tried to meet those quiet brown eyes. “Captain Drew told me this morning,” she stammered. “Will you ever—ever——”” “Forgive your Oh, yes.” “But, if you do—are you going to say nothing else? Are you going to——” “You make it very hard for me,” said the boy. The girl struggled a moment with pride and shame. Her answer lay in the depths of those eyes. They were neither reproach- ful nor vengeful. They were even quietly kind. But they were also strictly imper- sonal. “T think—” she began. Then suddenly turned with a half sob, Adventure and hurried from the room. So Bunga found him among his pillows, half smiling, half sad. “Well,” said Bunga, as briskly as he might, for both hated unnecessary demon- stration, “I suppose the Brigadier told you what I found out. I wanted to allow him the pleasure of telling you himself.” “He told me. And I say—you’re pretty much of a brick, as bricks go, do you know that?” “Brick, ——! see—letter from him, too, after my friend Adair talked to him—well, he didn’t realize it would cost you a means of livelihood— your commission. He only wanted to break up this engagement.” “Well, he succeeded.” “What? Didn’t you——” “The Brigadier’s daughter will go back to Manila to stay, I presume.” © “Hooray!” shouted Bunga. ‘And you?” “Oh, me? Why, I’m going to stay, of course—so you can pull me out of another hole.” “Pull, ——! You’ve learned, then, what I tried to beat into your fool head?” “Naw!” grinned the boy. “I only did it to make thé Brigadier sweat blood.”~ ° But the little man knew better; and as the evening gun sounded, they turned their faces to listen to “The Star Spangled Ban- ner.” It has its own meaning for men of deeds whose souls have been interwoven with the spirit of the service. Gomichbooks Your foster-father, you