II

I Get to Paris and Encounter Some Strange Sights

Friday, August 17. A French Port.

In obedience to the captain’s orders we remained on deck last night, fully dressed, till our ship was past the danger zone and in harbor. There was a rule against smoking or lighting matches, but none against conversation.

The Gentleman from Louisiana and a young American Field Service candidate had the floor. The former’s best was a report of what he saw once while riding along beside the Columbia River. An enormous salmon jumped out of the water and raced six miles with the train before being worn out. Whether the piscatorial athlete flew or rode a motorcycle, we were unable to learn.

The Gentleman from Louisiana yielded to his younger and stronger countryman. Someone had spoken of the lack of convoy. “Don’t you think we haven’t a convoy,” the kid remarked.