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Are you deaf or what?”
    “But there’s—”
    “Goddammit!” barked Mitchell. “Can’t you follow a simple order like that? Get some
     wood and build a fire!”
    “Okay,” said Toughey, backing out.
    A n hour later they had finished their meal. The day was growing yellow outside the
     glassless windows. Inside the room, just before the door, were a number of small pits
     all in a line.
    Mitchell spread his coat and blanket for the girl.
    “Where you going to sleep?” she said quickly.
    “Outside. One of us will have to keep watch and that leaves an extra blanket. You
     better get what shut-eye you can, lady. We’ll be falling in in a few hours.”
    “Listen, mister, ain’t there a chance of stayin’ here a little longer? I could sleep
     a year and still be short on rest.”
    “Nope. Sorry, but we’ve got to get to Shunkien.”
    “But why? A couple Marines won’t make any difference more or less in that town.”
    “Maybe not,” said Mitchell. “But I got my orders.”
    “Ain’t you scared of bein’ shot in some of this fightin’ around here?”
    “Sure, but it’s my business to see that we aren’t. Now get some sleep.”
    “And you won’t change your mind?”
    “Sorry.”
    She sat up suddenly and cried, “You’re not sorry or anything of the kind. I think
     you’re just trying to get rid of me by walkin’ my legs off. Who the hell do you think
     I am?”
    “I said get some sleep,” said Mitchell. “If you don’t, that’s your hard luck. If you
     can’t take it and if you’d rather stay here alone . . .”
    “No. Wait a minute. I didn’t mean to get mad. Honest.”
    Mitchell smiled at her and instantly she chilled. “G’wan. How can I follow your orders
     with you standin’ there grinnin’ at me?”
    Mitchell went outside and found Toughey dozing in a patch of cold sunlight. Toughey
     woke up instantly.
    “Go ahead and cork off ,” said Mitchell. “I’ll keep a lookout for an hour and then let you have it.”
    “Hey,” said Toughey, aggrieved, “what’s the idea tellin’ me to pipe down a while ago?
     I was just tryin’ to say that there’s a couple Japanese stiffs around the corner there
     all shot to hell with machine-gun bullets.”
    “Sure, that was all you had to say. Who do you think put them there?”
    “You?” gaped Toughey.
    “You wouldn’t want that girl to fall over a couple stiffs, would you?”
    Toughey’s battered face lighted up. “Gee, that’s so. No wonder they made you a sergeant.”
    “Can the wisecracks,” said Mitchell, moving off. He sat down against the wall and
     pulled a small purse out of his blouse. He opened it up and took out a bountiful store
     of cosmetics and then some papers.
    Toughey was interested immediately. “What’s that?”
    “Pipe down,” said Mitchell with a glance at the wall behind him.
    “You got her pocketbook,” said Toughey.
    “Sure I have. She thought she left it in the car. Think I want to convoy a spy halfway
     across China?”
    “A spy?” gaped Toughey. “Say, that’s right. That millionaire story did sound kind
     of phony now that I come to think of it. Hell, Sarge, maybe she’s just usin’ us to—”
    “Pipe down. Do you want her to hear you?”
    Mitchell ran through the papers and spread one out. It was a newspaper clipping which
     said that Dawn LeMontraine, world’s most famous fan dancer , had appeared in Shanghai with great success. Her next engagement was to be Tientsin . The dateline was May third, many months before. The picture was that of the girl.
    “A fan dancer!” grinned Toughey. “Well, for gawd’s sake! A fan dancer!”
    “Think of that,” said Mitchell acidly. “Now get some sleep or I’ll give you something
     to make you snore.”
    “Whatcha so mad about?” said Toughey.
    “Listen,” said Mitchell, carefully, “if you don’t start snappin’ into it, I’ll hold
     out ten days’ pay. Understand?”
    Toughey was so worried that he went to sleep the instant