ain't Crimmins' way."

"Take your hand off my shoulder," said Garrison steadily.

The other's black brows met, but he smiled genially.

"It don't go, Bud. No, no." He shook his head. "Try that on those who
don't know you. I know you. You're Billy Garrison; I'm Dan Crimmins.
Now, if you want me to blow in an' tell the major who you are, just say
so. I'm obligin'. It's Crimmins' way. But if you want to help an old
friend who's down an' out, just say so. I'm waitin'."

Garrison eyed him. Crimmins? Crimmins? The name was part of his dream.
What had he been to this man? What did this man know?

"Take a walk down the pike," suggested the other easily. "It ain't often
you have the pleasure of seein' an old friend, an' the excitement is a
little too much for you. I know how it is," he added sympathetically. He
was closely watching Garrison's face.

Garrison mechanically agreed, wondering.

"It's this way," began Crimmins, once the shelter of the pike was
gained. "I'm Billy Crimmins' brother--the chap who trains for Major
Calvert. Now, I was down an' out--I guess you know why--an' so I wrote
him askin' for a little help. An' he wouldn't give it. He's what you
might call a lovin', confidin', tender young brother. But he mentioned
in his letter that Bob Waterbury was here, and he asked why I had left
his service. Some things don't get into the papers down here, an' it's
just as well. You know why I left Waterbury. Waterbury----!"