74 



THE NATIONAL, GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 



the nicest. It is the sunniest, hence the 

 cheeriest. The two Geographic wards 

 are rather far down to one end, which 

 makes them very quiet. And that, of 

 course, is the best of all. There are 

 twelve beds in each ward, and there is a 

 battered and banged-up American soldier 

 in each bed. It costs $600 a year to keep 

 him there — clean, beautifully cared for, 

 and well nourished. But that sum cannot 

 pay for the flowers on the tables, the pho- 

 nograph and its records, the oranges in 

 the afternoon, and the all-too-seldom 

 ice-cream treat. Oranges cost ten cents 

 apiece, and as one kid put it, "One ain't 

 hardly worth the trouble o' peelin'." That 

 boy was full of fever. 



ANOTHER GEOGRAPHIC WARD FOR THE 



"TIGER cats" 



I am told that botli of these wards are 

 nearly, but not quite, financed for this 

 year, and that there's talk of the Geo- 

 graphic Society opening a third. If that 

 should come to pass, it would mean that 

 twelve more of what the Germans al- 

 ready term the "tiger cats," heroes of 

 Chateau-Thierry, or some other point 

 quite as bloody, would eat and sleep in 

 cleanliness and live or die blessing each 

 member. 



"Hello, American !" calls out a musical 

 voice. "Is it true that Washin'ton's gone 

 dry? I gotta reason foh askin', 'cause 

 that's my home town." 



"Such being the case," I say, "I won- 

 der if you noticed the sign above this 

 door?" 



"I reckon I did," he assures me. 

 "When they rolled me up on the stretcher 

 I kept repeatin' those words to myself: 

 'Donated by the National Geographic So- 

 ciety of Washin'ton, D. C./ 'cause I had 

 a feelin' I was goin' to get a shock when 

 they shifted me onto this bed. I kept 

 thinkin' how all the girls in our family 

 had helped in the donatin', and I kept 

 sayin' ovah an' ovah, 'It's a good hunch ; 

 you're gonna get well.' An' first thing I 

 knew I was here in bed as pretty as you 

 please. Thanks, lady ; that's my fav'rite 

 flower. What is it?" 



Through the wide-open windows the 

 bright health-giving sun pours into Geo- 

 graphic Ward No. 1. Here the men are 

 all "on the mend," so that a visitor, espe- 



cially one bringing something to smoke, 

 is mighty welcome. 



FORTITUDE AND FRATERNITY 



There is an air of real jollity, for the 

 phonograph is blaring out that once pop- 

 ular melody, "Waiting for the Robert E. 

 Lee," and even the boy in the wheeled 

 chair is beating time with his one foot. 

 When I can make myself heard I ask 

 him if he'd like to have a flower. "Say, 

 on the level," he chuckles, "what'd I do 

 with it?" 



I like him for that, just as I like the 

 little pale one flat on his back on the bed 

 in the corner. I can tell that he loves 

 flowers from the way he handles the one 

 I give him. He is very unhappy because 

 some of the "guys" say he bawled all 

 night. Well, if he did, it was because he 

 was in such agony that half the time he 

 didn't know he was doing it. This morn- 

 ing he found he'd chewed his handker- 

 chief to rags, so they needn't say he 

 hadn't tried to be quiet. 



"That's all right," says a neighbor, 

 "but if I'd a had something to flatten you 

 out with I'd a flattened you out, you bet." 



"You !" scoffs the pale one. "Maybe 

 you don't know that I know it was you 

 who got up outer bed, gave me the drink, 

 and moved my leg three times." 



THE BOY WHO DISCOVERED A SPY 



"Got any chocolate?" begs one who is 

 able to sit up in bed. He doesn't look 

 more than seventeen, but insists that he'll 

 be nineteen next Tuesday. He's got what 

 he calls three "scratches," and throws 

 back the covers to exhibit a leg bound up 

 like a mummy. I can't help thinking that 

 I'd hate to have "scratches" like his. 



"But, gosh! it was worth it," asserts 

 he. "If you'll stay with me a minute I'll 

 tell you about it. 



"I was a motor-cycle despatch bearer, 

 so they let me carry a forty-five. I was 

 pumping up a flat tire when I heard my 

 captain talking to a man in French uni- 

 form. Now, you see, I know a lot o' Ger- 

 man. All of a sudden this bird gets tan- 

 gled up in his French and begins to fill in 

 with a few Kaiser words. 



" 'Ha, Ha !' says I to myself ; 'so that's 

 the little idea.' I went straight up to him 

 and I says, 'You're a spy, that's what 



