It only took them an hour to reach the small, picturesque, sea-side village at which the first contingent of American troops had landed. The camp where the bulk of the soldiers were bivouacked was situated several miles from the village. A winding dusty road led from the village to the camp, but when Tink and Jing arrived it was free from any travellers and there was not a sign of a soldier in any of the village streets or, what was worse, in any of the town’s numerous friendly bars.
Tink shook his head sadly as he viewed the cheerless, empty village. The townspeople walked the streets grim and unsmiling; even the children seemed oppressed by the lowering gloom that shrouded the village.
“Goodness, this is terrible,” Jing said anxiously. “Everybody looks so unhappy that it’s making me feel blue. You just have to do something about this, Tink.”
“We’d better go up to the camp,” Tink said. “Maybe we can find out something there.” He shook his head worriedly. “This thing looks bad.”
At the camp they found the same gloomy atmosphere. Soldiers stood about in groups of three and four, saying little, doing nothing. There was a general air of discontent and grumpiness evident.
“Oh, what are you going to do,” Jing almost wailed. “I just can’t bear the sight of all these unhappy soldiers.”
Tink patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll think of something, but first of all I think we ought to see this Captain James Donavon who gave the order that confined these men to camp. We may be able to find out something from him.”
They easily located the officer’s tent and slipped through the flap into its clean, well-ordered interior. At a desk in the center of the tent sat a tall, blackhaired young man, with light blue eyes and a square, determined jaw. He would have been handsome if it weren’t for the black scowl that was stamped on his features. He wore the uniform and insignia of a Captain.
“I think this is our man,” Tink whispered.
“I wonder what he’s so mad about,” Jing said, regarding the young Captain with interest.
Tink frowned. “I think we’ll have to find that out from Nastee.”
The flap of the tent opened then and an orderly entered and saluted.
“Excuse me, sir, but I think it only my duty to report that the men are becoming very restless and discontented. They’re doing a lot of talking, sir.”
Captain James Donavon tapped a pencil impatiently against the desk.
“Well, let them talk,” he snapped. “I’m giving the orders and I want them obeyed. I want none of my men associating with those crazy, unreasonable, hot-tempered villagers.” The Captain stared moodily at the surface of his desk. “That’s final.”
“But, sir,” the orderly persisted, “our boys and the village people have been getting on splendidly. There hasn’t been one bit of trouble.”
“Then I’m making sure that there won’t be any,” the Captain said. His eyes were miserable and unhappy as he stood up and snapped.
“I don’t want to hear anymore about this, do you understand?”
The orderly shifted uncomfortably.
“I understand, sir. And you, yourself, won’t be going into the village, either?”
“No!” Captain Donavon exploded. “I never want to see the place again.”
“Well, sir, do you want me to pick up your belongings from Mayor McCarthy’s home? I stowed a lot of your gear there as you were billeted with the McCarthy’s when we first arrived.”
Captain Donavon clenched his fists and jammed them into his trouser pockets.
“Don’t mention the name of McCarthy in my presence,” he barked.
The orderly backed toward the tent flap.
“I didn’t mean to irritate you, sir,” he said worriedly. “I didn’t know you had anything against the Mayor. In fact, since you was so friendly with his daughter, Eileen, I kinda figured—”
“Get out!” Captain Donavon’ bellowed.
“But—”
“Get out!”
The orderly ducked through the tent flap, white-faced, and the Captain slumped behind the desk, his features grim and miserable.
“What a nasty man,” Jing said. She made a face at the young Captain and stuck out her tongue at him.
Tink was leaning against the leg of a camp stool, his forehead furrowed with worried lines.
“That won’t help any, he can’t see you,” he said abstractedly.
“I know, but it makes me feel better.”
Tink sighed. “We’ve got a big job ahead of us. Nastee has quite a head start on us. I guess we’d better look him up first.”
“How can you find him?”
Tink said, “follow me.”
He Led the way out of the Captain’s tent. In the cleared area enclosed by the soldier’s barracks he paused. When he noticed several men strolling into one particular tent, he nodded at Jing to follow him and started in that direction.
“Dice game,” he explained.
“What do you mean?” asked Jing. “Well, it’s a good bet that those men are getting together to play craps. And Nastee loves to start trouble by kicking the dice around and spoiling things in general. It’s an old trick of his. So if there’s a crap game going, it’s a cinch Nastee’ll be around.”
Tink was proven right on two counts. There was a crap game going and Nastee was on hand. Tink saw him the second he crawled under the tent-flap.
Nastee was in the center of the ring formed by the gambling soldiers, his sharp little face twisted in a malicious smile. He had obviously already caused a great deal of consternation for there were angry rumblings from the gambling soldiers.
But with Tink’s arrival Nastee’s fun was over. He saw Tink and the mischievous smile faded from his face. It was replaced by an almost comical look of startled consternation.
“W-when did you get here?” he said weakly.
“Never mind that,” Tink said sternly. “I want to talk to you.”
Dumbfounded by Tink’s unexpected arrival, Nastee allowed himself to be led from the tent where Jing was waiting.
“Oh, you’re here too,” he said sulkily, when he saw the Leprichaun-girl.
“What have you been up to?” Tink demanded. “I know you’re at the bottom of this trouble.”
A sly evasive smile plucked at Nastee’s lips.
“What trouble?” he smirked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, yes, you do,” Tink said grimly. “What have you done to Captain Donavon?”
Nastee grinned and stretched out on the ground, cushioning his back against a soft blade of grass.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Tink turned despairingly to Jing. “We were right,” he said. “Nastee is behind this trouble.”
Nastee started to laugh, a thin, piping laugh that shook his whole frame. He rolled on his side, hands clasped over his belly, laughing uncontrollably.
“This is one mess you’ll never straighten out,” he said, between gasps of laughter.
Jing regarded his convulsed form with frosty anger. Her small foot tapped the ground in helpless exasperation.
“I think you’re just terrible to cause all this trouble,” she said stormily. Nastee continued to giggle.
“You don’t even know what happened,” he said.
A speculative gleam appeared in Tink’s eyes. He remembered something the young Captain had said.
“I think I do,” he said. “I should have thought of it before this. I’ll bet Mayor McCarthy and his daughter, Eileen, are mixed up some way. I’ll bet you’ve caused some mix-up between the Captain and Eileen. It’s just the kind of thing you’d like to do.”
“You’re just guessing,” Nastee jeered, but there was a sudden worried expression lurking in his sly eyes.
Tink noticed the expression and smiled.