The enemy, who had been unusually quiet for several days, began to show greater activity. Their air craft came inquisitively nosing around, and when one was brought down or driven back, others persisted in coming to take their places in spying. Their heavy guns, that for a time had been inactive, now began firing with increasing intensity. “It looks,” said Captain Cross, “as though another drive was maturing. Possibly they have got some new information about us, and have been training their men for a decisive drive and are now about ready to strike.” The cannonading continued quite active for a day or two, and then slackened and died away. That a sudden attack was feared was shown by the unusually watchful guard kept on the line of the river. Occasional raids began to be made on the enemy’s positions. The slightest movement there was regarded with suspicion, sometimes with amusing results. Our gunners were exceedingly proficient. An artillery officer had said to me, “I can always place the third shot in a five foot square. And then, as he saw an enemy soup kitchen coming down a far-off hill, added, ‘Now watch me do it!’” He fired two shots, and the second one was a perfect hit, the “soup gun” flying into flinders. “Some of the poor devils,” I said, “will have to go without their soup tonight.” Then, shortly after, our artillery in the sector to the right of us, opened up a wonderful barrage with an impressive roar of guns and exploding shells. We relished it a good deal more, since we knew that our men were “pulling off” a raid, and not the Boches. Just then my attention was called by Sam Jenkins to an object in the river. “Say, Lieutenant, just see me hit that muskrat,” said Sam, bringing his rifle to his shoulder to fire. “Don’t fire,” I said; “let the poor creature live!” For I felt that where there was so much needful destruction, that innocent creatures should be protected. In another moment, it was seen that it was a dog, as the little fellow came dripping and shaking his shaggy coat from the water. I whistled and Muddy, as was his habit when caught in mischief, came crouching with apologetic waggles at my feet. I tried to reassure him of my forgiveness, but he rolled over on his back with paws dangling imploringly. Then I took him in my arms, wet as he was, I was so glad to see him, and he snuggled down, whimpering. When I had taken him to my quarters and fed him, I discovered that he was very hungry; for he ate as though starved, and then whimpered and barked and fawned upon me, as though to tell me that he had had a hard time, and was glad to get back to me. I left him asleep on my blanket and went to duty again, for he seemed too tired to go with me as usual. Colonel Burbank knew that Muddy had been “lost and found,” and when later I called at his quarters, seemed pleased to see Muddy as well as myself.