There was no thought now of going back to the camp. Their belongings, what few they had, were still there, and the thing uppermost in their minds, after they were comfortably settled, was to devise a way to have them sent over. "Why not write a letter to Capt. Rose, and ask him to see that they are packed up and sent to us?" proposed Alfred. A letter was, therefore, prepared, setting forth their adventures briefly, in which their compliments were sent to Col. Winston, with the request that their things should be forwarded. "How are we to have the things directed?" queried Ralph. "I will ask one of the men," said Alfred. "Going to have your things sent here, eh?" replied the man. "Just address Royal Artillery, Hill 406; it will come all right." "When will this go out?" asked Ralph. "Tomorrow forenoon," was the reply. The evening meal was hugely enjoyed by the boys, for they had had a strenuous day. It was the first time in months that they were served roast beef,—the Britisher's dish, and while the hospitals are always provided with the best-cooked food, and many dainties, such as invalids relish, the artillery branch of the service is usually served with the most substantial and regular meals. The infantry always has plenty, but the difficulty is that the poor fellows in the front line can get their food, while a battle is in progress, only at irregular intervals. Located, as they were, near the top of a hill, far from the enemy, having no fear of unexpected assaults, and only occasionally disturbed by the great shells which sometimes search them out, the artilleryman can dine in comfort on food well cooked in a finely arranged kitchen, usually presided over by a competent chef. That was why the boys enjoyed the meal, or one of the reasons; the other being, undoubtedly, the normal hunger which seems to come to all boys who are in an active and growing stage. They had potatoes, turnips and salad, and even fruit, as well as tea, although coffee was also served to those who called for it. "Well! if they don't have real apple pie!" said Alfred, as the dishes were removed for the final course. "Tarts! my boy! Tarts!" interjected Alfred's neighbor. "Well, we call them pies," explained Ralph. "When they have a crust on top they are pies, and the little things without any tops are tarts." This started a laugh, followed by the usual discussion on the different terms used by various people. "You may be the right one after all," said Alfred. "We lived in England for a time, and I remember once going into a grocery with father who wanted to get some fruit. He asked for a can of peaches, and the clerk replied: 'Ah! you mean tinned peaches!' "Yes; that was correct," said the man. "The clerk handed down the article, and the label on the outside said: 'American Canning Co.' I always supposed the goods were canned, not tinned," replied Ralph, laughing. "My word! I never thought of that before! I dare say you may be right," was the reply.