"H'as I were carried through the door the cold h'air sent a shiver through me, an' my wounds began to pain. The h'effect o' the chloroform were a-wearin' off, or it might 'a' been that letter. Lanterns were a-flashin' to an' fro, an' long lines o' stretchers could be seen movin' toward the waitin' h'ambulances. "I were put aboard an ambulance with three others. A raspin' noise as she got under w'y, an' I were 'omeward bound for Blighty." When Sailor Bill had finished, no one broke the silence. They were all thinking of Johnny. ROUNDING UP SPIES As Told by Curly ROUNDING UP SPIES No. 2 Gun's Crew had been relieved from the front line and were in rest billets in the little French village of S----, about ten kilos from the front line trench. The crew were sitting on the ground in a circle around their machine-gun, while a Sergeant, newly returned from a special course at St. Omer, was expounding the theory of scientific machine-gunnery. He himself had never actually been under fire with a machine-gun, but, from the theoretical point, he sure could throw out the book stuff. His flow of eloquence passed over his listeners' heads like a Zeppelin, and there was an uneasy squirming among them. Happy, who was sitting next to Yank, leaned over, and with his eye on the Sergeant, whispered in his ear: "Blime me, Yank, isn't it arful the w'y 'e chucks 'is weight about?" Yank agreed with Happy. Across from Yank sat Ikey, with their mascot, a scrawny little cur, in his lap. Every now and then the cur would take his hind leg and furiously scratch at a spot behind his ear. Ikey, noticing this action, would reach under his armpit, and also scratch. Sailor Bill was intently watching the mascot and Ikey. He, too, started scratching. In a minute or so, Hungry started on a cootie hunt; and Yank had an irresistible desire to lean his back against the barrel-casing of the gun and scratch, too. It was one of the chief indoor sports of the Western Front, especially during a monotonous lecture by some officer or non-com, for one of the fed-up listeners to start scratching himself. This generally caused the whole gang to do the same, the instructor included. It was just like a minister in the midst of a very dry sermon, suddenly stopping, stretching himself, and yawning, this action causing the rest of the congregation to do likewise. As the whole circle scratched, the Sergeant-Instructor commenced to shift his weight from one foot to the other in an uneasy manner. They all gazed at him intently, and each began to scratch furiously. Sure enough, the Sergeant gave in and started unbuttoning the front of his tunic to get at some real or imaginary cootie. A nudge went the rounds of the circle. They had accomplished their purpose. The Sergeant's mind took an awful drop from the science of machine-gunnery to that of catching that particular cootie.