"
"Oh, that was easy," laughed Jack Benson, gleefully. "In the first
place, it was mighty queer, Eph, that we left you on that corner--and
you vanished. Then we left Hal on that same corner--and the earth
swallowed him up. Then two fake sailors stopped me at that very same
corner--"
"How did you know they were fake sailors?" broke in Hal. "I never
suspected their genuineness."
"Why, see here," glowed Jack, "a United States Man-of-warsman has
respect for an officer's uniform drilled into him twenty-four hours in
the day. We're not officers of the Navy, but we wear a uniform that is
very much like the uniform of a naval officer, all but the insignia
of rank. What is the consequence? Every sailor we meet sees the
uniform, and says 'sir' to us by sheer force of habit. Why, you both
know that a good many sailors who pass us give us the regular salute.
Yet these two fake sailors hailed me as 'messmate' and were as familiar
in every other way as they knew how to be."
"Gracious! When they spoke to me, I never thought of that little point,"
confessed Hal.
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