Much rather would the boy take up new duties with new comrades, feeling again the complete novelty of the situation, the test of relative merit, the _esprit de corps_ of personal equation anew. But however glad he was to get back again into the maelstrom of do and dare, a satisfaction inspired both by sense of duty and the love of adventure, he did not welcome the opportunity more than the boys of the --th welcomed him. Before Captain Lowden and First Lieutenant Pondexter received Herbert they had been made acquainted, from Headquarters, with Whitcomb’s record and it meant good example and higher morale for an officer, however young, to be thoroughly respected by the rank and file. And then, within a few hours back again into the full swing of military precision and custom, the young lieutenant was ready for anything that might or could come. “The orders are to advance and take up a position on the up slope of that brown field on the other side of this little valley and thus try out the enemy; after which we may go on and attack him. So much from Headquarters. In my opinion the Colonel will say to just go ahead without bothering to try them out.” Thus spoke Captain Lowden at a brief conference of his officers, immediately prior to the line-up after early morning mess. And then he added, by way of sounding the human nature of his under officers: “What would you say about that, gentlemen?” Herbert waited until the first lieutenant should express himself. Pondexter was a grave and serious-minded fellow, oldish beyond his years, rather slow of speech, studious, thoughtful, austere. “We don’t know how strong the Germans may be there,” he said, “and it would not be very wise, it seems to me, if an offensive were made against greatly superior numbers intrenched, or within strong, defensive positions. But if we first try them out then we can----” The captain did not wait for the lieutenant to finish, but suddenly turned to Herbert: “I’d take a gamble on it and go over the hill,” the young officer suggested. “We can be pretty sure, judging from the enemy’s general distribution all along the line, that just at this point they do not greatly outnumber us; there can hardly be double our number. We are good for that many any day.” Captain Lowden laughed joyfully and slapped his knee. He was a young fellow from Plattsburg and Camp Meade, an ex-football star, athletic in build, quick in his motions and decisions, stern, yet kindly toward his men and greatly loved by them. He had already proved his heroism near Vigneulles, during the St. Mihiel battle, when the German salient was being flattened. He gazed at his new second lieutenant in a manner that quite embarrassed that youthful officer; then the captain said: “You’ll do! Your predecessor is in a hospital in Paris; I hope you don’t have to go there, but can stay with us. And I am blamed glad they pushed you right on through the replacement divisions and landed you here.”