CHAPTER V
ON THE BRIDGE
Harold came home for dinner that night. He was serving in the ninth
infantry as a private until such a time as he should pass his examination
and receive his commission.
"Bob has seen active fighting sooner than you have, Harold," laughed Mr.
Cook glancing at his younger son's battered eye.
"Yes, and he won the battle too," said Bob warmly.
"All I can say is," remarked Harold, "that Frank Wernberg must be an
awful looking sight if he's worse than you."
"He is," said Bob. "You ought to see his nose."
"Don't talk about it," urged Mrs. Cook. "I hate it."
"All right," laughed her husband. "Tell us what you have to do down at
the armory, Harold. You were lucky to get off to-night."
"Oh, I've got to go back," said Harold. "We'll probably be ordered out
for guard duty to-night. I may be guarding your plant for all I know."
"I hope we'll need no guards," said Mr. Cook earnestly. "In spite of all
I said last night I can't believe that many people will be disloyal.
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