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He said there was a fellow named Roy on the West Front and he gave up his life before he'd tell on a comrade. Then he said, "You see how it is with me, Skeezeks, I'm in a peck of trouble and I've got to get those army duds on and toddle back to camp as soon as I can get there and face the music.
He looked pretty tough, but one thing, anyway, he smiled an awful nice kind of a smile and hit me a whack on the shoulder and said: "Don't get excited, Skeezeks; you're all right and I won't hurt you. How are you, anyway?" I told him I was very well, but I'd like for him please to tell me who he was, so I'd know.
When I get a good stalking snapshot it's always on a Wednesday. Skeezeks, old Pal: Yours received. Have sent letter to your superior officer or whatever you call him. Will be up after my two hundred buckarinos next week. Could you put me up for a couple of nights? I'll show you how to roast potatoes French style, and we'll have a hike. Everything O.K., so don't worry. You're a little brick.
"You have to help me," I said, "because you're a regular scout, I can see that, and you bet I'd like to be just like you if I only could I would you can bet that fellow had lots of adventures and he called me 'Skeezeks' and kind of laughed at me and kidded me along but, anyway, maybe he's all right, hey? I guess it's his money, but anyway, you've got to help me you have.
In a couple of minutes the boat came alongside and I heard someone say, "Pst" very quiet like. I went and looked over the rail and there I saw a fellow all alone in a rowboat. I couldn't see him very well, but I could see he had on an old hat and was pretty shabby. Then he sort of whispered, "Anybody up there, Skeezeks?"
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