Evening Star Newspaper, June 10, 1930, Page 22

’L RC Sterriff and Vernon Bartlett X/~ g _(Continued From Yesterday's Star.) silenced, but not abashed, bent his head over his plate, and tackled his cutlet. Presently—when he had finished everything on his plate, in fact—he looked up. He was still puzzled by Stanhope's air of weariness, which, somehow, was linked up with the arrival of this pleasant-spoken youngster, Raleigh. “Cheer skipper,” he *You do 1ool um."” “I'm tired.” “Why not turn in to get some sleep after supper?” asked Osborne eagerly. | “I'll do the duty roll, and see the | cergeant-major, and any little thing | like that | “I've got hours of work before I turn in. So have the rest of us, for tha matter.” He turned to Raleigh. Trot- ter goes on duty directly he's had sup- ow, in fact. He's relieving the Hibbert. You'd better go learn the job.” “Oh, right!” léigh's own voice Was &s non- committal and indifferent as Stan- hope's. It would not do to let any one see how much Dennis' behavior hurt and puzzied him. | “There's tons of time" grumbled Trotter. “I ain't 'ad my apricots yet. And they need digesting afterwards.” “We'll keep them for you till you come back,” Osborne promised. “Not in 'ere, you won't. I know you all too well.” He instructed Mason to keep the | fruit in his own dugout until it was wanted, and rose to his feet, stretching prodigiously, in a way which showed that his tunic-buttons must be fastened on with good stout thread, and not ordinary, ladylike cotton. “Come on, Raleigh, my lad,” he said. “ never knew anything like & war for upsetting meals. I'm always down for dooty in the middle of one.” Stanhope laughed—almost the old laugh, when he was ragging any one at school. “That's because you never stop eating,” he declared. Raleigh stood in boyish uncertainty at Trotter's side. Did one wear full equipment on duty? What Was he ex- pected to do? He felt a little as he had felt when his father had taken him into a large London restaurant for the first time, and he had hesitated before that bewllcering array of cutlery on each side of his plate. “Just wear vour belt with revolver case on it,” Trotter advised, after the manner of an ex-sergeant-major, well accustomed to fathering young sub- alterns, “Must have your revolver to shoot rats. None of your grouse moors out ‘ere, but first-rate rat-'unting. Tuck your gas mask under your chin like & servieite. And leave:your stick at'ome, It gets in your way if you have to run.” Raleigh laughed a little nervously. He did not know when Trotter was fooling and when he was serious. “Why—er—we don't have to run, do we?” “Oh, Lord, yes, often! You wait until you see a ‘minnie'—that's a big trench- mortar shell, you know; short for minenwerfer. You wait until you see one of those damned black things twist- ing over and over in the air, and then coming down, down, down. You won't ask then if we have to run. You'll run like stink, and, unless you judge well, ou're just as likely to run into the loomin’ thing as away from it *Owever, youll find all that out soon enough.” Well, come on, my lad, let's go and see about this ‘ere war. Cheero, uncle! Cheero, skipper! Don't any one pinch my apricots.” ““Cheero,” echoed Raleigh a little un- certainly, and he followed Trotter up the steps into the moonlit support trench. ‘Trotter, ventured. | CHAPTER XVI SBORNE started after the de- fim“ couple thoughtfully. en he turned to Stanhope, about to say what a fellow Raleigh seemed to be, but checked his words at the sight of Stanhope’s face. He was often moody nowadays, which was not surprising, but this arrival of Raleigh had ob- viously upset him very seriously indeed. Osborne was wondering about it when Mason appeared at his dugout door. “Will you take apricots, sir?” “No, thanks.” “Mr. Osborne?” “No, thanks.” “I'm sorry about them being apricots, #ir. I explained to Mr. Osborne—" “That's all right, Mason, thank you.” ‘The tone of weary patience might so easily have changed to one of anger, that Mason gave up the attempt to ex- cuse himself, and disappeared hastily. at about beds?” asked Osborne. “will you sleep over in the corner?| That was Hardy’s bed, and it's in rela- | tively decent condition.” Stanhope shook his head, “No. You sleep there. I'd rather sleep by the table here. I can get ufllmd do & spot of work without disturbing you.” Osborne walked over to the bed “Must have s lttle comfort in your old age, Uncle.” Osborne turned back fo the fable. at times to forget that he had ever been a schoolmaster. But perhaps he could make Stanhope listen to him. “Look here,” he began, “why don't you et & little comfort? I wish you'd turn and sleep for a bit.” “Sleep? I can't sleep. the whisky bottle and poured some | carelessly into his tin mug. Osborne | knew the futility of protesting. When | Stanhope was in a state like this op- | position did no good at all. As Stanhope put the empty mug back on the table, Hibbert came down from the trench. He was even more pale than usual, and when he came into the feeble light of the candles he put his hand up to his forehead and rubbed it gently, as though to smooth away some pain. Small, slightly built, and narrow-shouldered, he was as unlike the old idea of a soldier as any man could well be, and only this national emergency which dressed almost every man in khaki saved him from being inconspicuous. Stanhope stared at him. “Well, Hibbert?” he said questioningly. | “Everything's fairly quiet. Bit of sniping somewhere to our left, and one or two rifie grenades coming over just on our right.” “I see....Mason's got your supper.” | Hibbert gently massaged his forehead don’t think I can manage tonight, Stanhope. It's this y neuralgia. It seems to get right inside this eye. The beastly pain gets worse every da: Stanhope spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “Some hot soup and a good tough chopll put that right.” i “I'm afraid the pain rather takes my | appetite away.” As the other made no | sign, Hibbert went on: “I'm damned | sorry to keep on talking about it, Stan- | hope; only I thought you'd wonder why I don't eat anything much.” “Try and forget about it.” Hibbert Jaughed, without sppreciation. | “well, I wish I could “Get tight,” advised Stanhope, with a gesture of impatience. | “I think I'll turn straight in for a est, and try to get some sleep.” | “All right,” sighed the other. “Turn | in, then. You're in that dugout there, | through the tunnel, and Trotter dumped | your pack in that corner. You go on | duty at two; I take over from you at four. Tl tell Mason to call you.” | Hibbert muttered a faint “Cheero,” took a new candle that was lying on‘ the table, lit it over another candle, | and disappeared, with his slow, shuf- fling walk, into his own dugout. | Stanhope shrugged his shoulders | angrily, and turned to Osborne. “An- other little worm trying to wriggle home,” he said. Ogborne filled his pipe with that care- COPVAIGHT 1930 8v FREDERICK A BTOKES COMMANY. " view—even the boy's point of view—had | it sounds damned impudence. ful deliberation which marked all his movements. At school his ability to understand the other man’s point of enabled him to keep his form in better order than any of his colleagues, al- though he had punished much less often. “I wonder if he really is bad,” he reflected. “He looks Totten.” ! But Stanhope was not in a mood to be tolerant. “It’s pure bloody funk, that's all,” he declared. “He could eat if he wanted to; he's starving himself purposely. Artful little swine! Neuralgia's & splendid_idea. No proof, as far as I can see.” “You can't help feeling sorry for him. | He's tried hard.” “How long's he been out here? Three onths, I suppose. Now he's decided e's done his bit. He's decided to go home and spend the rest of the war in comfortable nerve hospitals. Well, he's mistaken. I let Warren get away like that, but no more.” Osborne puffed away at his pipe. “I don’t see how you can prevent a fellow going sick,” he remarked at length. “I'll a quiet word with the doctoy before he does. He thinks he's going to wriggle off just before the at- tack. But he won't.” No man of mine's going sick before the attack. They're going to take an equal chance—to- gether.” He held up the whisky bottle to the | light, and noted, with slightly raised | eyebrows, how rapidly the level of the liquid was sinking. Then he offered a drink to Osborne, who refused it, poured one out for himself, and drank it at a gulp. “The bloddy little funk!" he mumbled. The older man gave it up, and chang- ed the subject. -~Raleigh looks a nice chap.” The remark had an extraordinary effect on Stanhope—it was almost as though & bucket of cold water had been poured over him. He assented curtly. “Good-looking youngster, too. At achool with you, wasn't he?” Stanhope scowled. “Has he been talking already?” “My dear fellow,” laughed Osborne, “what a state you'Te in tonight. Talk- ing? No, he's not been talking. He just mentioned it. It was a natural thing to tell me when he knew you were in command. He’s awfully pleased to_get into your company.” Stanhope stretched across the table and picked up a magazine. He glanced | through it without saying a word, and then began to draw meaningless geo- metrical designs on its cover with a stump of a pencil. “He seems to think a lot of you,” want on }?sbfme. e other laughed grimly. “Yes, I'm his hero.” g Osborne thought rather of Stanhope than of Raleigh. “So much the better,” he sald. “Besides, it's natural. Small boys at school generally have their heroes. e mall boys at schooll” “Often it goes on as long as—-" Stanhope interrupted him. “As long as the hero's a hero. “It often goes on as long as life does,” Osborne finished quietly. The stump of & pencil continued its complicated pattern of straight lines; the older man leant back against one of the props of the dugout roof, and watched his tobacco smoke rise slowly until it xficned the ceiling of corrugat- ed iron, and then spread out softly into nothingness, “How many battalions are there in France?” asked Stanhope suddenly. “Heaven knows! Why?" “We'll say 50 divisions. That’s 150 | brigades—450 battalions.” He did a little sum on the back of his magazine, | “That's 1800 companies. There are 1,800 companies in France, Uncle. Ralelgh might have been sent to any | one of them, and, my God! he comes . gel" ht to “You oug be jolly glad. H good-looking youngster. I like him, “I knew you'd like him. Pergonality, isn't it?” ° Stanhope hesitated for a moment or two, his fingers playing with the button of his tunic pocket. Then he took out & worn leather case and | found a small photograph, which he passed across to Osborne. “I've never shown you that, have I?” m(febome studled the snapshot care- y. “No. Raleph's sister, isn't it?” ‘ggw did you know?” ere’s trong likeness. She's awtuly hg‘zeeaolo;km': girl.” N “A Pl n't show much,” Stan- hor pointed out apologetically, “Just “Well, she looks awfully nice,” Osborne insisted. “You're & lucky chap. Stanhope carefully replaced the | photograph amongst some letters in his | pocket case, | “I don’t know why I keep it, really,” he said, as though he were reluctant to | let ‘t‘;lg subject drop. | “Why? Isn't she—I thought— " ':zhfi: ;flu You think?" “Well, I thought the haps s was walting for you.” e “Yes,” sald Bhe ith “Don’t talk rot” protested Osborne. Then he leant forward across the table, pointing with the mouthplece of his | pipe to emphasize what he was going to say. “Look here, old man,” he be- gan a little hesitatingly. “I've meant 10 speak about it for a long time, but You've done longer out here than any man in the battalion, and you've refused every soft job that's been offered you. It's time ‘you went away for a rest. It's due to you.” *“You suggest that I go sick, like that little worm in there—neuralgia in the eye?” 'Stanhope laughed bitterly, and poured himself out another drink. “No. Not that. The colonel would have sent you down long ago, only he won't suggest it himself because he can't spare you.” “Oh, rot!” ‘He's told me s0.” “He thinks I'm in such a state T want & rest, is that 1t?” (Continued {n Tomorrow e -demand CARBUNA Cleaning Fluid [z o] o ase and soil 20‘ BOTTLES AT ALL DRUG AND Stop Sma rting at the soothing touch Resinol Ointment It heals quickly and often Drevtn|tl blli ers. Also promptly relieves itching, chafing, rashes, etc. 1 Should Be In Every Home ™IE EVENING STAR, WASHINGTON D. O, TUESDAY, JUNE 10, 193 Come Outdoors and Play! SAY THESE NEW FASHIONS When cotton mesh was man’s exclusive property for undershirts, whoever dreamed it would be the rage for 1930 sportswear? White and pastels, like Patou copy sketched, $16.50. Spert Shop—Becond Floor The smartest and coolest habit on the bridle paths is the little polo shirt of pastel cot- ton mesh, and breeches of white gabardine, $5.95; Mesh Shirt, $1.95. Sport Shop—Second Floor We know of nothing as versatile as the Windsor jacket to go with any number of silk or flannel skirts, as well as all your cotton and silk frocks! $5.95. Sweater Shep—Second Floor From Maine to California it’s vacation time! Going places, playing games, having fun—it’s great this season to be anywhere between eight and eighty! Never were there so many pretty things to wear! All the gayety and color of Summer’s playgrounds is reflected in the outdoor fashions now ready in Lansburgh’s Apparel Sections. Get set for your smartest, sunniest Summer. (f5) One little cotton frock, like this fine white pique, puts your wardrobe on a fashion footing. your standby for tennis, and a now-and-then for general sport or street wear, $10.75. Sport Shop—Becond Floor Shantung has tried to shanghai every other sport fashion into obscurity this season—with no little suc- cess! One reason is this cool, white model with em- broidered insignia, $16.50. Sport Shop—Second Floor The Basic Apparel Mannish Shorts $1.00 Of course, they're like brother's, even to the adjustable strap in the back. Broadcloth — with wide or narrow stripes, yes, colorful, but cagy! Waist measurements, 26 to 36. Shorts—Third Floor It can be silk shantung! to 38. This new and very smart version of the beloved sus- pender frock comes in soft In glistening white and flattering pastels. Sizes 13 to 19. $10.75. Junior Shop—Second Fisor Watch the Junior, she'll show you how to be com- fortable while playing tennis. Her shirt, shorts and skirt (which she is taking off) are of linen. White and colors. $10.75, Junior Shop—Becond Floor for the Great Outdoors A Light Corsetlette $5.00 A corsetlette of four layers of whispy net, so sheer you won't even ask whether it's cool! . and with the eup shape brassiere. 34 Boneless, too, Gorsets—Third Floer Following Smartest Footsteps Left: The classic white and brown pump, a pet of the younger set. $8.50. Center. A smart one-strap with the all-leather continental heel. $8.50. Right: A spectator oxford, in white with black or brown kid trim. $8.50. Shoe Shop—Second Fleor LANSBURGH & BRO 7th, 8th and E Sts—FAMOUS FOR QUALITY SINCE 1860—National 9800 When it's a bit coolish snuggle into this fleecy white polo coat. Tailored /ith dash and ready for anything —flying, motoring and boat- ing. Unlined. $10.75. Coats—Becond Floor The striped toweling beach coat is frightfully important this year. It not only protects one’s skin from the sun but keeps one snug and dry. $5.95. Beach Shop—Second Floor If you're going to take your swimming seriously get an honest- to-goodness swimming suit. Perfect is this Jantzen with the shoul- daire string. $5.50. Beach Shop—Second Floor