His eyes twinkled shrewdly.
"Ever been known by any other ?" "I enlisted under another; I ran away from home, and was not of age." "Oh, I see; well, that makes no difference to me.

Don't forget, Craig, the side door at nine." I glanced back as we turned the corner; he was still standing at the edge of the walk, tapping the concrete with his cane.

Out of sight I looked curiously at the card.

It was the advertisement of a clothing house, and on the back was written "P.

B.Neale, 108 Chestnut Street." The mules walked the half dozen blocks back to the lumber yard, while my mind reviewed this conversation.