"I mean about his not enlisting. Do you think he's a
slacker?"

"A slacker? Why, Father!"

"Oh, I don't mean he's afraid. We've seen proof enough of
his courage, and all that. But I mean don't you think he
wants stirring up a bit?"

"He is going to Washington to-morrow, Father. He told me
so to-night. And it may be--"

"Oh, well, then maybe it's all right," hastily said Mr.
Nestor. "He may he going to get a commission in the engineer
corps. It isn't like Tom Swift to hang back, and yet it does
begin to look as though he cared more for his queer
inventions--machines that butt down fences than for helping
Uncle Sam. But I'll reserve judgment."

"You'd better, Father!" and Mary laughed--a little. Yet
there was a worried look on her face.

During the next few nights Mr. Nestor made it a habit to
take the short cut from the railroad station, coming past
the big fence that enclosed one particular building of the
Swift plant.

"I wonder if there's a hole where I could look through,"
said Mr. Nestor to himself. "Of course I don't believe in
spying on what another man is doing, and yet I'm too good a