How is it with you?" returned the captain.
"So, so," answered Stacy carelessly. "You heard about my getting
shot, didn't you?"
"Oh, yes, I heard all about it."
"I got wounded in the fracas, I did. I'm going to France one of these
days to fight the Huns. Then I suppose I shall get shotted up some
more. You take it from me, though, I'll put some of those savages on
the run before they get me," declared Chunky belligerently.
"Perhaps you will explain why your men ran away from us the other
night, sir?" spoke up Walter.
"They were called away. I guess the 'possum hunt was too much for
them," answered the Ranger with twinkling eyes. "You rather put it
over my boys, young man," he said nodding at Stacy, whose face flushed
a rosy red.
"What's that?" demanded the professor.
"Drove them out of their tent by unloading a bag of fleas on them. Ha,
ha, ha! I guess you got revenge on them, young man. By the way,
you're Brown, aren't you?"
"I was done brown down there in the bush that night. Mosquitoes were
worse than a volley of rifle bullets."
"But---I don't understand," protested the professor.
Captain McKay laughingly explained. He told them how the Rangers
had been so pestered by the fleas and other insects that Stacy had
captured in the 'possum bag that the men were forced to get up and
walk all the rest of the night, until a messenger had come from their
commander, ordering them to go on a hurry scout some forty miles from
where they were camped.
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