"Well we'll know before the day is over," replied Noll, with a catching of his breath. "Then, of course, we don't know whether the Army is at present taking boys under twenty-one."
"The law allows it," declared Hal stoutly.
"Yes; but you remember Sergeant Wright told us, fairly, that sometimes, when the right sort of recruits are coming along fast, the recruiting officers shut down on taking any minors."
"I imagine," predicted Hal, "that much more will depend upon how we happen, individually, to impress the recruiting officer."
In this Hal Overton was very close to being right.
The ride of more than two hours ended at last, bringing the young would-be soldiers to the ferry on the Jersey side. As they crossed the North River both boys admitted to themselves that they were becoming a good deal more nervous.
"We'll get a Broadway surface car, and that will take us right up to Madison Square," proposed Noll.
"It would take us too long," negatived Hal. "We can save a lot of time by taking the Sixth Avenue "L" uptown and walking across to Madison Square."
"You're in a hurry to have it over with?" laughed Noll, but there was a slight tremor in his voice.
"I'm in a hurry to know my fate," admitted Hal.
Oliver Terry had been in New York but once before. Hal, by virtue of his superiority in having made four visits to New York, led the way straight to the elevated railroad. They climbed the stairs, and were just in time to board a train.
A few minutes later they got out at Twenty-third Street, crossed to Fifth Avenue and Broadway, then made their way swiftly over to Madison Square.
"There's the place, over there!" cried Noll, suddenly seizing Hal's arm and dragging him along. "There's an officer and a man, and the soldier is holding a banner. It has something on it that says something about recruits for the Army."
"The man you call an officer is a non-commissioned officer – a sergeant, in fact," Hal replied. "Don't you see the chevrons on his sleeve?"
"That's so," Noll admitted slowly. "Cavalry, at that. His chevrons and facings are yellow. It was his fine uniform that made me take him for an officer."
"We'll go up to the sergeant and ask him where the recruiting office is," Hal continued.
Certainly the sergeant looked "fine" enough to be an officer. His uniform was immaculate, rich-looking and faultless. Both sergeant and private wore the olive khaki, with handsome visored caps of the same material.
The early April forenoon was somewhat chilly, yet the benches in the center of the square were more than half-filled by men plainly "down on their luck." Some of these men, of course, were hopelessly besotted or vicious, and Uncle Sam had no use for any of these in his Army uniform. There were other men, however, on the seats, who looked like good and useful men who had met with hard times. Most of these men on the benches had not breakfasted, and had no assurance that they would lunch or dine on that day.
It was to the better elements among these men that the sergeant and the private soldier were intended to appeal. Yet the sergeant was not seeking unwilling recruits; he addressed no man who did not first speak to him.
In the tidy, striking uniforms, their well-built bodies, their well-fed appearance and their whole air of well-being, these two enlisted men of the regular army must have presented a powerful, if mute, appeal to the hungry unfortunate ones on the benches.
"Good morning, Sergeant," spoke Hal, as soon as the two chums had reached the Army pair.
"Good morning, sir," replied the sergeant.
"You're in the recruiting service?" Hal continued.
"Yes, sir."
Always the invariable "sir" with which the careful soldier answers citizens. In the Army men are taught the use of that "sir," and to look upon all citizens as their employers.
"Then no doubt you will direct us to the recruiting office in this neighborhood?" Hal went on.
"Certainly, sir," answered the sergeant, and wheeling still further around he pointed north across the square to where the office was situated.
"You can hardly miss it, sir, with the orderly standing outside," said the sergeant, smiling.
"No, indeed," Hal agreed. "Thank you very much, Sergeant."
"You're welcome, sir. May I inquire if you are considering enlisting?"
"Both of us are," Hal nodded.
"Glad to hear it, sir," the sergeant continued, looking both boys over with evident approval. "You look like the clean, solid, sensible, right sort that we're looking for in the Army. I wish you both the best of good luck."
"Thank you," Hal acknowledged. "Good morning, Sergeant."
"Good morning, sir."
Still that "sir" to the citizen. The sergeant would drop it, as far as these two boys were concerned, if they entered the service and became his subordinates.
It seemed to Hal and Noll as if they could not get over the ground fast enough until they reached that doorway where the orderly stood. The orderly directed them how to reach the office upstairs, and both boys, after thanking him, proceeded rapidly to higher regions.
They soon found themselves before the door. It stood ajar. Inside sat a sergeant at a flat-top desk. He, too, was of the cavalry. There were also two privates in the room.
Doffing their hats Hal and Noll entered the room. Overton led the way straight to the sergeant's desk.
"Good morning, Sergeant. We have come to see whether we can enlist."
"How old were you on your last birthday?" inquired the sergeant, eyeing Hal keenly.
"Eighteen, Sergeant."
"And you?" turning to Noll.
"Seventeen," Noll replied.
"You are too young, I'm sorry to say," replied the sergeant to Noll.
Then, turning to Hal, he added:
"You may be accepted."
"But I've got another birthday coming very soon," interjected Noll.
"How soon?"
"To-morrow."
"You'll be eighteen to-morrow?" questioned the sergeant.
"Yes, sir."
"That will be all right, then," nodded the sergeant. "You won't need to be sworn in before to-morrow. You have both of you parents living?"
"Yes, sir," Hal answered, this time.
"It is not necessary, or usual, to say 'sir,' when answering a non-commissioned officer," the sergeant informed them. "Say 'sir,' always, when addressing a commissioned officer or a citizen."
"Thank you," Hal acknowledged.
"Now, you have the consent of your parents to enlist?"
"Yes, Sergeant."
"Both of you?"
"Yes."
"Aldridge!"
One of the pair of very spruce-looking privates in the room wheeled about.
"Furnish these young men with application blanks, and take them over to the high desk."
Having said this the sergeant turned back to some papers that he had been examining.
"You will fill out these papers," Private Aldridge explained to the boys, after he had led them to the high desk. "I think all the questions are plain enough. If there are any you don't understand then ask me."
It was a race between Hal and Noll to see which could get a pen in his hand first. Then they began to write.
The first question, naturally, was as to the full name of the applicant; then followed his present age and other questions of personal history.
For