"You said it," they agreed as they walked on, leaving Rabig to glare after them with helpless hatred in his eyes. After that, though they remained in camp several weeks, the boys saw little of Nick Rabig and were just as well satisfied. Friction was not in their line. They preferred the easy, happy comradeship that existed among nine-tenths of the fellows. "I should think," said Bart, after a day of particularly hard but fruitful practice, "that we were almost ready to meet the Germans." "Well, I don't know about that," returned Frank. "But I shouldn't wonder if we'd soon be sent over to France to finish our training behind the lines." "Right you are," said Billy Waldon, strolling tip with Tom. "I overheard a couple of officers talking about the immediate plans for the regiment, and they seemed to think that we might expect orders almost any time to go to a camp nearer the sea." "And from there I suppose we go across," said Tom. "I hope that's right!" cried Frank, eagerly. "I'm just spoiling to get into action." "All the fellows feel that way," said Bart. "All but Rabig," put in Tom with a grin. One day, the longed-for orders came and the camp with its thirty thousand men hummed with excitement and activity. About ten o'clock one bright sunshiny morning the regiment marched out of the gates of Camp Boone, to the martial music of its band, no longer a collection of raw recruits but a company of trained, vigorous young soldiers, ready and fit for any work their country might apportion them. Two days and two nights they spent on the train and on the morning of the third day started the march to the camp which was to be their short abiding place. "Say, fellows, you can smell the ocean!" cried Frank, drawing in deep breaths of the invigorating, salt-laden air. "Say, I'm not a bit anxious to get on it!" "You'll be lucky," responded Bart, who was hungry and therefore not as cheerful as was his wont, "if you don't find yourself under it before you get through. They say those submarines are doing pretty slick work." "They may be doing now," said Frank whose high spirits refused to be dampened even by hunger, "but some day they're going to get done! You just let that sink home, Bart, my boy." "I'd rather let some good juicy beefsteak sink home, just now," grumbled Bart, rebelliously. "If I have to feel like this much, I won't mind being sunk!" An hour later, however, Bart's spirits had soared to ecstatic heights. His voracious appetite had been satisfied--and with beefsteak. One night, less than a week later, a startling thing happened. The boys had turned in as usual sharp at nine o'clock, and were in the deep sleep of exhausted youth when they were suddenly awakened by the imperative notes of a bugle. "Wh-what's that?" cried Frank, sitting up on his cot and straining his eyes through the darkness. "It's reveille--but it's dark as pitch."