When they reached what they decided should be their destination, almost at the end of the road and in a dense bit of wooded section which would obscure them from enemy observers, they brought their tractor to a stop. With pick and shovel they began building an earthen oven, in which they might cook their food, and from which they might keep reasonably comfortable, without being seen. A light snow began to fall, and, mess over, the lads decided to retire for the night. Before doing so, however, they set up the mast and aerials and made the connection to the storage battery. It was agreed that they should sit up in two-hour shifts, to be ready to receive any message that possibly might come, but it was arranged that the other four should divide this duty, allowing Frank, who had driven the truck over the entire trip, a full night's sleep. So the night passed, with the lads taking turns at the lonely vigil. The snow continued, the wind increased almost to a gale, and the temperature dropped still lower. Fully eight inches of snow lay upon the ground when gray daylight came and Slim, the last man on watch, awakened the others. The storm was diminishing, but still they could see only a few yards distant from the tractor. "Guess I'll warm up chopping some wood," said Joe, as he took an axe and left the others still dressing. In half an hour he had brought in enough to cook the breakfast and last half the day, and while Slim acted as cook, Jerry started out to fell more saplings. Before noon the clouds broke, the sun came out, and its reflection from the pure white glistening snow was almost blinding. "A snowball fight," suggested Jerry, and the others took up the idea as a boon to dispel the monotony of their isolation. With the lieutenant "umpiring" from the little wireless room of the tractor, Joe and Frank "stood" Jerry and Slim, and from a distance of a hundred feet apart the battle began. One of Frank's well-aimed missiles caught Slim squarely in the mouth, just as he was calling out some challenging remark, and from the window of his post Lieutenant Mackinson laughingly shouted: "Strike one!" Slim, spitting and blowing out the icy pastry, gathered all his strength to hurl a ball back at Frank. But he "wound up," as baseball pitchers call that curving swinging of the arm just before the ball is thrown, with such vigor that he lost his balance. His feet went up into the air and he came down ker-plunk! but the snowball left his hand with what proved to be unerring aim. Joe, letting out a howl of laughter at Slim's accident, caught the tightly packed wad of snow right in the ear. He turned his back to the "enemy," and, leaning forward, began pounding the other side of his head to dislodge the snow. Of a sudden he straightened up, uttering an exclamation of surprise. "Lieutenant!" he shouted. "Look here!"