“Is it supposed that a war is going on?” I asked, politely; “I mean, are we in the presence of an enemy?” “Of course,” answered Heinze. “Certainly we are at war.” “Then,” I said, triumphantly, “in my report I should recommend that the officer who selected this camp should be court-martialled.” Heinze gave a shout of indignant laughter, and Aiken glared at me as though he thought I had flown suddenly mad, but Laguerre only frowned and waved his hand impatiently. “You are bold, sir,” he said, grimly; “I trust you can explain yourself.” I pointed from the basin in which we stood, to the thickly wooded hills around us. “This camp has the advantage of water and grass,” I said. I spoke formally, as though I were really making a report. “Those are its only advantages. Captain Heinze has pitched it in a hollow. In case of an attack, he has given the advantage of position to the enemy. Fifty men could conceal themselves on those ridges and fire upon you as effectively as though they had you at the bottom of a well. There are no pickets out, except along the trail, which is the one approach the enemy would not take. So far as this position counts, then,” I summed up, “the camp is an invitation to a massacre.” I did not dare look at the General, but I pointed at the guns at his side. “Your two field-pieces are in their covers, and the covers are strapped on them. It would take three minutes to get them into action. Instead of being here in front of the tent, they should be up there on those two highest points. There are no racks for the men’s rifles or ammunition belts. The rifles are lying on the ground and scattered everywhere--in case of an attack the men would not know where to lay their hands on them. It takes only two forked sticks and a ridge-pole with nicks in it, to make an excellent gun-rack, but there is none of any sort. As for the sanitary arrangements of the camp, they are _nil_. The refuse from the troop kitchen is scattered all over the place, and so are the branches on which the men have been lying. There is no way for them to cross that stream without their getting their feet wet; and every officer knows that wet feet are worse than wet powder. The place does not look as though it had been policed since you came here. It’s a fever swamp. If you have been here two weeks, it’s a wonder your whole force isn’t as rotten as sheep. And there!” I cried, pointing at the stream which cut the camp in two--“there are men bathing and washing their clothes up-stream, and those men below them are filling buckets with water for cooking and drinking. Why have you no water-guards? You ought to have a sentry there, and there. The water above the first sentry should be reserved for drinking, below him should be the place for watering your horses, and below the second sentry would be the water for washing clothes. Why, these things are the A, B, C, of camp life.” For the first time since I had begun to speak, I turned on Heinze and grinned at him.