“I’ll swell your head with my foot if you don’t go away from me!” the big mountaineer threatened. “If you sling your old hoof this a-way, I’ll jest bite it off,” Gill chuckled. The two went on working side by side, still further strengthening the defenses. Presently they were seen, with arms over each other’s shoulders and carrying their beloved rifles, sitting on the stone wall, swapping experiences about shooting deer and bear. During the rapid work about the stronghold, Lieutenant Whitcomb had gone out on picket duty, choosing the valley side of the hill. The corporal was on the hillside above. The orders then to the squad were that all who could must get some sleep before morning. The food had been exhausted, but the boys, though ravenously hungry, made no complaint. Some coarse rye bread, found in the Kits of the dead Huns, did not go very far nor give much satisfaction. Into the shelters several of the boys went and to sleep almost immediately; others were too wakeful to think of closing their eyes. Jennings and Gill, questioned as to their need of rest, declared they were too empty to sleep and being used to long night vigils when hunting, they preferred to chat awhile. “Ever go on a coon hunt, son?” Jennings asked Kelly. The latter had never experienced that pleasure. “Me, I’ve been coon hunting three nights straight an’ follered the plow all day between,” Gill said. “Huh! Four nights straight fer me,” was Jennings’ boast. “Sho! ’Course you’d lie to beat the world’s record for stayin’ up. Jen, listen: I’m an awful good liar myself, but you make me jealous.” “Fact, you runt! Four nights. Me an’ my brother Ben. You knowed Ben an’ you kin ask him.” “Now? Where is he?” “Back home; when you go back----” “Mebbe I won’t, so I better do it now, only my holler’s a little wore out tryin’ to talk sense into you and I reckon Ben wouldn’t hear me ’bout four thousand miles.” Then the two went on bantering over some trifling incident. Herbert moved slowly across to where the German wounded were ensconced and was accosted by Don as the latter was leaving. “I suppose human nature doesn’t differ much the world over,” Don said. “Those poor chaps in there are a queer lot, nevertheless. Some of them seem grateful for what I was trying to do for them; one of them caught and tried to kiss my hand. Another, who is very bad, kept talking to me and when I held my torch and stooped over to say something that he might understand for sympathy, I’m hanged if he didn’t reach up and try to strike me and he spit at me, too, like an angry cat. It made the young surgeon so mad that he slapped the fellow’s face; then apologized to me most profusely. And the string of German talk--ugh! I’ll never want to hear a word of it again when I get back home.” “You won’t ever hear much of it, I’m thinking,” said Herbert. “Why, do you think we’re not going to get out?” “I was meaning that the language is going to be very unpopular at home for a long while.”