"Each one of these marks represents four years in space," he continued.
"There's ten marks here and I intend making it an even dozen! And no
bunch of Earthworms is going to make me lose the chance to get those
last two by trying to make a space monkey out of me!"
McKenny sauntered along the line of boys with that same strange catlike
step and looked squarely into the eyes of each boy in turn.
"Just to keep the record straight, I'm your cadet supervisor. I handle
you until you either wash out and go home, or you finally blast off and
become spacemen. If you stub your toe or cut your finger, come to me. If
you get homesick, come to me. And if you get into trouble"--he paused
momentarily--"don't bother because I'll be looking for _you_, with a
fist full of demerits!"
McKenny continued his slow inspection of the ranks, then suddenly
stopped short. At the far end of the line, a tall, ruggedly built boy of
about eighteen, with curly brown hair and a pleasant, open face, was
stirring uncomfortably. He slowly reached down toward his right boot and
held it, while he wriggled his foot into it. McKenny quickly strode over
and planted himself firmly in front of the boy.
"When I say stand to, I mean stand to!" he roared.
The boy jerked himself erect and snapped to attention.
"I--I'm sorry, sir," he stammered. "But my boot--it was coming off
and--"
"I don't care if your pants are falling down, an order's an order!"
The boy gulped and reddened as a nervous titter rippled through the
ranks.
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