Bob was light and
Hugh was dark, his hair was almost raven black, and his eyes a deep
brown. He had large hands and several crooked fingers owing to the fact
that he had broken them playing base ball. He was stronger than Bob,
though not so agile or quick on his feet, and while he could defeat his
light-haired friend in tests of strength he was not a match for him when
it came to speed.
"What do you think of this war, Hugh?" Bob asked eagerly.
"I wish I could enlist," said Hugh.
"So do I, but I guess we can't."
"We're too young, I suppose. Isn't there anything we can do to help?"
"My father thinks we may have trouble with the Germans here in town. If
anything starts you can be sure I'm going to get in it if possible."
"Say," exclaimed Hugh, "did you see young Frank Wernberg this morning
when the principal was making his speech about patriotism?"
"No, what was he doing?"
"Oh, he was snickering and making side remarks to Jim Scott, and making
himself generally objectionable."
"If I'd been Jim I'd have told him to keep quiet," said Bob warmly.
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