It was at this juncture that the disciples of Mickey Free, made famous by Charles Lever, made themselves conspicuous, led by William Tooker, the quietest man that ever sold a brogan, they nestled down amid the blankets and comforters that were piled beneath the trees, and gazed with dreamy eyes, through the curling smoke of the ever present cigarette, at their toiling companions erecting the tents under the hot sun. During the day, between the heat and flies, these tents were practically uninhabitable. While the men were thus busily engaged the busy mind of Quartermaster Clifford was filled with thoughts of the noonday meal; where was it to come from? The regimental commissary department was established in rather a condensed form under a large tent about one hundred feet to the right of the regiment. The men had worked up quite an appetite, and if there is any thing a Guardsman likes to do it is to eat. Clifford’s experience had taught him this, and he resolved that the boys should get what was coming to them, and as much more as he could take. Their confidence in him must not be misplaced. He carelessly strolled over to the commissary’s tent and inquired of the assistant commissary, what time he would call for Company B’s rations; he was informed that as soon as enough sandwiches were made for the regiment each company would get its portion. _As soon as they had made enough sandwiches to feed the regiment!_ This remark set Clifford thinking. It was now 11:30 A. M. and one man making sandwiches for about four hundred half-starved soldiers. Let us see when a “City Guard” man is not hungry; it is quite an easy matter for him to put away four family size sandwiches; then, there are Dick Radke, Frech, Overstreet, Townsend, and a few others who are good for about nine each. That man making sandwiches was likely to be about two thousand years old when he would have his job finished. How to give the boys their lunch at 12 o’clock under these circumstances was a problem that puzzled him deeply; there were several knives lying around, he could take one; but what good would be a knife without the stuff to cut? There was plenty of bread and beef, but should he commit the larceny of them, what would it avail him without a knife to cut and carve with?-- “And thoughts on thoughts, a countless throng, Rushed, chasing countless thoughts along.”