Just as likely as not I've made the bucket
of clams fast to that rope out yonder and hove it overboard, and
pretty soon you'll see me tryin' to make chowder out of the
anchor. . . . Ah hum. . . well. . . .
'As numberless as the sands on the seashore,
As numberless as the sands on the shore,
Oh, what a sight 'twill be, when the ransomed host we see,
As numberless as--'
Well, what do you say? Shall we heave ahead for the place where
Uncle Sam's birds are goin' to nest--his two-legged birds, I mean?"
They walked up the beach a little way, then turned inland, climbed
a dune covered with beachgrass and emerged upon the flat meadows
which would soon be the flying field. They walked about among the
sheds, the frames of the barracks, and inspected the office
building from outside. There were gangs of workmen, carpenters,
plumbers and shovelers, but almost no uniforms. Barbara was
disappointed.
"But there ARE soldiers here," she declared. "Mamma said there
were, officer soldiers, you know."
"I cal'late there ain't very many yet," explained her companion.
"Only the few that's in charge, I guess likely. By and by there'll
be enough, officers and men both, but now there's only carpenters
and such."
"But there are SOME officer ones--" insisted Babbie. "I wonder--
Oh, see, Uncle Jed, through that window--see, aren't those
soldiers? They've got on soldier clothes.
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