“Sure! In some of them you pack iron rations, food for a day or so. In others you’ll put light pneumatic rubber rafts and fishing line—that’s in case the flier might land in the sea.

“Then, of course, there are paper balloons to be rigged for dropping food and medicine, and small silk ones for dogs.”

“Dogs?”

“Yes, of course, the dogs of war.”

“Real dogs?”

“Certainly! Dogs have played an important part in all wars. They carry messages, keep the night watches, and warn their masters of approaching enemies. Yes, they have their parachutes, and many of them beg to have their chutes strapped on.”

“Do they really like dropping from the sky?”

“Oh, don’t they, though? And that reminds me. I don’t want to frighten you but, because of the great importance of their work, and so they will realize to the full just how important it is, there is talk of having each parachute rigger make at least one parachute landing.”

“What! You mean—” Barbara appeared to shrink up in her chair. “You mean I’ll have to drop from way up in the sky?”

“You might be asked to.”

“I’d die.” Barbara’s face paled.

“Oh, no you wouldn’t. Thousands are doing it every day.”

“I’m so big, I’d go right on down into the earth.” Barbara laughed, nervously.

“Oh, no! Parachutes are made to fit their owners. Some are made for dropping five hundred pound antiaircraft guns. But don’t let that worry you,” Belle hastened to add. “You may never be asked to jump. ‘Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.’ I didn’t think that up, but it’s good all the same.”

“One thing still worries me—” Barbara said a moment later.

“What’s that?”

“My interview. My roommate just went to take hers.”

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