In spite of his light-hearted manner and
his rather chaffing tone, he couldn't help remembering that good-bye. He
was going to face whatever fate might come, but thoughts of those he might
not see again could not be prevented from obtruding themselves.
"Shut up, Cecil," said the other. "We've said good-bye--that's an end of
it! We've got other things to think of now. Here we are!"
The train pulled into Ealing station. Here the evidences of war and the
warlike preparation were everywhere. The platforms were full of soldiers,
laughing, jostling one another, saluting the officers who passed among
them. And Harry, as he and Dick followed the officers toward the gate, saw
one curious thing. A sentry stood by the railway official who was taking up
tickets, and two or three times he stopped and questioned civilian
passengers. Two of these, moreover, he ordered into the ticket office,
where, as he went by, Harry saw an officer, seated at a desk, examining
civilians.
Ealing, as a place where many troops were quartered, was plainly very much
under martial law. And outside the station it was even more military.
Soldiers were all about and automobiles were racing around, too. And there
were many women and children here, to bid farewell to the soldiers who were
going--where? No one knew. That was the mystery of the morning.
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