After picking a toilsome way through the crowds we arrived in the quarter of the big hotels and found there was not a room to be had. Not at all daunted, we retraced our steps and sought the small hotels--there were no rooms. Still, with courage--even amusement (the affair was taking on a spirit of adventure) we attacked the _pensions de famille_--not a cot; not a corner. Then we stopped in the _Place_ to review the situation, which began to look dull gray. There were still the _cabarets_, or we could sit in the street all night. We chose the _cabarets_ and with newborn hope started on, systematically taking one street after another, knocking at most dreadful-looking places, even along the waterfront. A woman's voice from behind barred shutters usually responded. Every chair, every table, every square inch of floor was spoken for. Then the warm, brightly-lighted railroad station, opposite the pier, leaped into our numbed consciousness--why had we not thought of it before? The military authorities forbade loitering there. Out in the dark, once more we looked at each other inquiringly. That was a curious joke. Fate had never dealt us such a hand of cards before! We viewed the landscape--half of it was water and the little waves lapping against the _quai_ were rather mocking. Suddenly, dark and smug, a swaying object which we had not observed till then, took monstrous form before our eyes and in it we recognized an old friend, the Channel boat _Elfrida_, which lay basking in the velvet shadows like a dozing cat and gently pulling on her cables. Why not? We did! Nothing prevented our going aboard but a sleepy guard, who was quickly consoled with a five-franc piece, and we made ourselves comfortable for the night on the yellow, velvet cushions in the captain's salon, behind the wheel-house. Who can assert that it has not all been arranged for us? Otherwise, I fear, our own poor efforts would land us too often in the mud. _November 10th, Tuesday._ Left Calais at nine A. M. The sun was pouring its cheerful rays over the glorious land. It ought to be free--this smiling France! Wherever the eye rested were soldiers drilling, building, maneuvering and digging. Every few hundred yards the railroad was intersected by lines of trenches. These latter appeared to be about seven feet deep--cut true as a die into the ground and were braced with a lining of woven reeds, like basket work. The front wall of these trenches was crenated about every two feet, forming little niches for the soldiers and protection against flank shots. The poppies and corn flowers blowing over the edges were holding on for dear life to their tiny inch of soil and nearly obliterated those brutal gashes in the earth which had swallowed up their brothers and sisters. An unsuspecting army might well be lured into such a pleasant bear-trap.