Tom Raymond started a bit at the second use of the title.

"I see you aren't any more used to it than I am!" exclaimed Jack.
"Well, it'll be a little time before we stop looking around to see
if it isn't some one behind us they're talking to. So I thought I'd
practice it a bit on you. And you can do the same for me. I should
think, out of common politeness, you'd get up, salute and call me
the same."

"Oh! Now I see what you're driving at," voiced Tom, as he glanced
up from a momentary look at his medal to the face of his
comrade-in-arms, or perhaps in flying would be more appropriate.
"The wind's in that quarter, is it?"

"No wind at all to speak of," broke in Jack. "If you'd like to go
for a fly, and see if we can bag a Boche or two, I'm with you."

"Against orders, Jack. I'd like to, but we were ordered here for
rest and observation work; and you know, as well as I do, that
obeying orders is just as important as sending a member of the Hun
Flying Circus down where he can't do any more of his grandstand
stunts. But I'm hoping the time will come when we can climb up back
of our machine guns again, and do our bit to show that the little
old U. S. A. is still on the map."

"I guess that time'll soon come, Tom, old man. I heard rumors that
a lot of us were to be sent up nearer the front shortly, and if they
don't include you and me, there'll be something doing in this camp!"