With all the badinage and by-play of rough jokes, the men were more serious when coming from the trenches than when, with some forebodings, they had taken up its duties. My! how I enjoyed “chow” that night when mess call sounded! And the dreamless sleep that followed, with clean straw and with a blanket spread over it for a bed! CHAPTER VIII “WHO COMES THERE?” One of the first things I did on going into rest billet was to send word to Jonathan by Muddy. Our friendship had grown stronger since entering the army, and we had kept it up by frequent intercourse; both by meetings and by exchange of notes back and forth by Muddy. When I put a note in his collar and told him to carry it to Jot, he seemed to understand what he must do; and these notes except, in one or two instances, reached their destination. There were some jokes about the “Muddy mail,” but most of our comrades thought it was wonderfully intelligent that the dog understood when told to carry it. There had never been any serious misunderstanding between Jot and me. Ever since coming to France, however, there had been vague insinuations that Jot was of German parentage and sympathies. There was nothing that I knew that warranted such a belief; but since I had learned that he spoke their language, these whispers of suspicion had increased until they affected me with just a little inner questioning. What was the reason for his being always so reticent about his father? I did not, however, for a moment distrust his patriotism or loyalty to our country. The general distrust and hatred of everything German was common among all classes. It was but the natural result of the wicked and cruel policy of the German government and army, since entering upon this dreadful war, which now seemed to menace civilization and free government, so dear to Americans. When Jot came to see me, as requested by my note through the “Muddy mail,” I told him of these rumors, and said: “Would it not be better to tell about your family, and stop these sinister rumors, for good?” “You have confidence in me, haven’t you, Davie?” Jot replied. “Yes,” I asserted, “I think I would trust you sooner than myself, in any important matter. But wouldn’t it be better for me to know the truth, so that I can contradict these insinuations?” After a moment’s thought, he replied: “Well, possibly it would. But it is to satisfy you rather than them, that I will say, my father was born in the United States. He was, in that sense, an American. I have a half-brother three years older than I, who is said to resemble me, but we never agreed. And there was a misunderstanding between my father and mother that was never healed. It was by her request, almost her last one, that I have taken my present name. That’s all I can tell you, and that is all there is of consequence to know.” This had to satisfy me, and with it I hoped to contradict any further insinuations that I might hear.