I said to my buddy.

“I hadn’t finished saying it when it came zooming back. This time higher up and—” Blackie took a long breath. “The bloomin’ infidels! What do you think? They let go a bomb that missed us by inches.

“You should have seen us scatter,” Blackie laughed in spite of himself.

And then, of a sudden, the lines between his eyes grew deep and long. “They bombed us. They sank our ship. My buddy was killed. I caught it in the leg. I got a lifeboat off, doing what I could to save the women.

“Me,” he faltered. “I’m no sort of a story teller. But I hope I’m something of a fighter. This old leg will be good as new next spring. And, sure’s I’m living, I’m going hunting little brown men up there in Bristol Bay. They stole a cool million dollars’ worth of fish last season. How many’ll they get this year? That depends on the Coast Guard men and, glory be! I’m one of them. I’m out of the navy, invalided home, back on the good old job, and there’ll be plenty of things a-popping in May.

“Er, excuse me, boys,” he apologized. “That sounds an awful lot like bragging. We didn’t catch the Shadow that passes in the fog last season. We didn’t do those Orientals much harm, either. Too slick for us, I guess. But wish me luck next time. The biggest industry in Alaska, the run of red salmon, depends on us.”

“Here’s luck,” said Johnny, lifting a cup of coffee just poured by Joe’s motherly wife. “Here’s luck to the service.”

“And may you be my buddy!” Blackie added.

That night Johnny and Lawrence walked home in silence. The great white world was all about them and the blue-white stars above.