Cheerful—By Request eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 340 pages of information about Cheerful—By Request.
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Cheerful—By Request eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 340 pages of information about Cheerful—By Request.

Casey spoke up again.  “They say he didn’t wait for this here draft.  He’s goin’ to Fort Sheridan, around Chicago somewhere, to be made a officer.”

“Yeh, them rich guys, they got it all their own way,” Spider spoke up, gloomily.  “They—­”

From down the street came a dull, muffled thud-thud-thud-thud.  Already Chippewa, Wisconsin, had learned to recognise it.  Grand Avenue, none too crowded on this mid-week night, pressed to the curb to see.  Down the street they stared toward the moving mass that came steadily nearer.  The listless group on the corner stiffened into something like interest.

“Company G,” said Red.  “I hear they’re leavin’ in a couple of days.”

And down the street they came, thud-thud-thud, Company G, headed for the new red-brick Armory for the building of which they had engineered everything from subscription dances and exhibition drills to turkey raffles.  Chippewa had never taken Company G very seriously until now.  How could it, when Company G was made up of Willie Kemp, who clerked in Hassell’s shoe store; Fred Garvey, the reporter on the Chippewa Eagle; Hermie Knapp, the real-estate man, and Earl Hanson who came around in the morning for your grocery order.

Thud-thud-thud-thud.  And to Chippewa, standing at the curb, quite suddenly these every-day men and boys were transformed into something remote and almost terrible.  Something grim.  Something sacrificial.  Something sacred.

Thud-thud-thud-thud.  Looking straight ahead.

“The poor boobs,” said Spider, and spat, and laughed.

The company passed on down the street—­vanished.  Grand Avenue went its way.

A little silence fell upon the street-corner group.  Bing was the first to speak.

“They won’t git me in this draft.  I got a mother an’ two kid sisters to support.”

“Yeh, a swell lot of supportin’ you do!”

“Who says I don’t!  I can prove it.”

“They’ll get me all right,” said Casey.  “I ain’t kickin’.”

“I’m under age,” from Red.

Spider said nothing.  His furtive eyes darted here and there.  Spider was of age.  And Spider had no family to support.  But Spider had reason to know that no examining board would pass him into the army of his country.  And it was a reason of which one did not speak.  “You’re only twenty, ain’t you, Buzz?” he asked, to cover the gap in the conversation.

“Yeh.”  Silence fell again.  Then, “But I wouldn’t mind goin’.  Anything for a change.  This place makes me sick.”

Spider laughed.  “You better be a hero and go and enlist.”

Buzz’s head came up with a jerk.  “Je’s, I never thought of that!”

Red struck an attitude, one hand on his breast.  “Now’s your chanct, Buzz, to save your country an’ your flag.  Enlistment office’s right over the Golden Eagle clothing store.  Step up.  Don’t crowd gents!  This way!”

Buzz was staring at him, open-mouthed.  His gaze was fixed, tense.  Suddenly he seemed to gather all his muscles together as for a spring.  But he only threw his cigarette into the gutter, yawned elaborately, and moved away.  “S’long,” he said; and lounged off.  The others looked after him a moment, puzzled, speculative.  Buzz was not usually so laconic.  But evidently he was leaving with no further speech.

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Cheerful—By Request from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.