Soon the prospective soldiers in the special car were having the best of times. They had gotten over the first wrench of parting, and were having fun. They sang and joked, and Ned, Bob and Jerry entered into the jollity of the occasion.
“Do we go right into camp?” asked one lad from Cresville.
“No, I believe we first have to stop at Yorktown and go through a detailed examination,” answered Jerry, who had been making inquiries. “So far all we’ve gone through has been preliminary; and though we have enlisted, there is still a lot of red tape to go through. They’ll sift us out at Yorktown.”
“You mean separate the sheep from the goats!” laughed Ned.
“Something like that, yes,” Jerry admitted.
So they traveled on. At each stop there was a rush to get papers, if any were available, so the recruits might know the latest news in regard to the war. There were flaming headlines, but not much real news, as events were, as yet, hardly shaped. But everything went to show that Uncle Sam had at last decided to get into the war on a wholesale scale.
“When’s the next stop?” asked Bob, as the conductor came through on one of his trips.
“Oh, in about half an hour. But that isn’t Yorktown.”
“Chunky wants to know if there’s a lunch counter there,” put in Ned, grinning.
“Oh, yes, sort of one;” and the conductor smiled.
“Say, look here!” blustered Bob, when the conductor had passed on. “Just because I ask about the next station doesn’t mean that I want to eat _all_ the while.”
“You aren’t eating _all_ the while,” said Ned. “This is only the second in a while since we started.”
“Well, I’m hungry!” declared the stout lad. “Maybe you are, too, only you’re too proud to admit it.”
“I’m not!” declared Jerry. “Chunky, I second your motion, and I wish my jaws were in motion right now. I’ll be with you when the crullers nest again!” he chanted.
“Who said pie?” demanded a voice at the end of the car.
“That bunch up in the middle,” answered another, indicating the motor boys.
“Is there any chance for a feed?” came a veritable howl from some hungry lad. “Tell me, oh, tell me, I implore!”
“Next stop,” answered Jerry. “That is,” and he turned to the sergeant in charge, “unless you have some rations concealed somewhere about your person,” and he laughed.