“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!”

[92]

“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.

“Not a ration,” was the answer. “I suppose there ought to have been some arrangement made for feeding you boys on the way, but there is such a rush that it has been overlooked. However, if you are short of change——”

“Oh, we’ve got the money! All we want is time to eat!” came the cry.

“I’ll see to that, then,” said Sergeant Mandell. “If necessary I’ll have the conductor hold the train for a minute or two, until you can raid the lunch counter. But mind! everything must be paid for, as I am responsible.”

Ned, Bob, and Jerry, by common consent, were detailed into a foraging party on behalf of some of their comrades and a common fund was made up with which to purchase what food could be found. Then the boys eagerly waited for the train to arrive at the station where there was a lunch counter.

And such a rush as there was when the place was announced! The three motor boys, as treasurers, were accompanied to the counter by a mob of the boys who for themselves or for companions had orders for everything in sight.

“I want apple pie!”

[93]

“Cherry for mine!”

“Give me peach!”

“What’s the matter with the ‘peachy’ girl behind the counter?” asked some one, and there were many glances of warm but respectful admiration cast at the young girl behind the piles of food on the marble shelf.

“Sandwiches—all you got!” demanded Jerry.

“And some crullers, if you haven’t enough pie!” added Bob. “I want a lot of crullers. You can put ’em in your pocket!” he confided to Ned.

“Put ’em in your pocket? Man, dear! I’m going to put mine in my stomach!”

“Yes, I know. So’m I—most of ’em,” went on Chunky. “But you can stow away some in your pockets to eat when you get hungry again. They don’t get as mushy as pie.”

“You’re the limit!” Ned told his chum. “You haven’t had a feed yet, and you’re thinking of the next one. But go to it! I never felt so hungry in my life.” So Bob went to it, to the extent of stuffing his pockets with crullers, and carrying away as much else as he could in his hands.

The girl at the lunch counter would have been swamped, but Jerry organized a sort of helping corps, and dealt out the food to his fellow recruits, making payment in due course, until the counter looked as fields do after a visit from the locusts.

Back to the car, only just in time, rushed the[94] boys, bearing things to eat to those of their comrades who had remained in their seats, for some were detailed to remain as a sort of guard over the luggage.

“Ah! This is something like!” exclaimed Bob, as he sat in his seat when the train had again started, holding a sandwich in each hand, while his pockets bulged suspiciously.

“You seem pretty well provided for,” remarked Ned to his stout chum, as the three motor boys sat together again.

“Well, I don’t aim to starve if I can help it,” retorted Bob, as he munched away.

“You must weigh five or six pounds more,” added Jerry, with a glance at Bob’s pockets. “That’s dangerous business, old man!”

“What?” asked Bob, pausing half-way to a bite of his sandwich.

“Putting on weight like that. You must remember that you’re not more than just tall enough to break in under the military requirements, and if you are too heavy for your height—out you go.”

“You can’t take away my appetite!” exclaimed Bob, but he did not see Ned wink at Jerry and motion with his head toward the bulging pockets of the stout lad.

For a time there was a merry scene in the car, where the prospective soldiers were riding. Hungry appetites were being appeased, and this caused[95] a line of small talk, which had rather died away after the first part of the journey.

Many of the lads were friends, and a number knew the motor boys, having lived in Cresville. Others were from surrounding towns, and some of them Ned, Bob, and Jerry knew, or had heard about. Others were total strangers, and one or two seemed quite alone. These had come from small villages, where not more than one or two had volunteered. One such lad, who gave his name as Harry Blake, the motor boys made friends with, and shared their food with him, as he had not seen fit, for some reason or other, to get off and provide............