noon
`` And if inside six months you do n't see three hundred thousand Italian soldiers carrying Phillipson 's best , '' he informed me , `` I 'll take a back seat and let young Jim Furman , who thinks I 'm a has-been and he 's the one white hope , begin to draw my pay . You ca n't beat those rifles . When the boys get to carrying them , old Francis Joseph 's ghost 'll weep . Pity , ai n't it , we did n't get on board by noon ? '' he digressed sociably . `` I could 've found something to do ashore the four hours I 've been twiddling my thumbs here , and I guess you could too . Hardest , though , on our friends the newspaper boys .