"Some night around the camp-fire I'll tell you," he said. "We were
fishing off Sea Gate and the fish just stood on line waiting for a
chance to bite. We sold three boatfuls in the one day and whacked up
about seventy dollars--what do you think of that? Then we chugged
around into Coney for gas and on the way back we got mussed up with the
tide and were carried out to sea--banged around for three days, bailing
and trying to fry fish on the muffler. On the fourth day we were picked
up by a fishing schooner about fifty miles off Rockaway and towed in. I
said to Jakey, I'm Mike Corby, remember that, and if you give your
right name I'll kill you--you've got to protect me,' I said, 'because
I'm in bad.' You see how it was, kiddo? I was three days overdue at
camp and didn't even have my uniform. I was so tired bailing and
standing lookout that when they set us down on the wharf at Rockaway, I
could have slept standing on my head. And I've gone without sleep fifty
hours at a stretch on the West Front in France--would you believe it?"

"Sure, I believe it," I told him.

"I'll tell you the whole business some day when you and I are on the
hike."

I said, "Cracky, you can bet I'd like to go on a hike with you."

"That's what we will," he said, "and we'll swap adventures."

I told him I didn't have any good ones like he had to swap, but anyway,
I was glad he got home all right.

"_All right!_" he said, "you mean all _wrong_. Maybe you saw the