"The colonel is right," said Capt. Keen. "You're working too hard, Hammer, and you're beginning to show it; your eyes look like the mischief. This fighting in your sleep is a bad sign." "The whole army could do with a rest, for that matter," replied Hammer, "but who would go on with the work? What I am worrying about now is rank badges. I'd like to doll up a bit for to-night." They went back to the sandbagged cellar under the broken farmhouse that served as headquarters for whatever battalion held that part of the line. On their way they had borrowed an old jacket with two stars on each sleeve from Lieut. Smith; and in that garment Dave Hammer appeared at the midday meal. The colonel, the medical officer, the padre and the quartermaster were there. They congratulated Dave on his promotion, and the colonel placed him at his right hand at the table on an upended biscuit box. The fare consisted of roast beef and boiled potatoes, a serviceable apple pie and coffee. The conversation was of a general character until after the attack on the pie--an attack that was driven to complete success only by the padre, who prided himself on the muscular development of his jaws. The commanding officer, somewhat daunted in spirit by the pastry, looked closely at the lieutenant. "You need a rest, Hammer," he said. "Keen, didn't I tell you yesterday that Hammer must take a rest? Doc, just slant an eye at this young officer and give me your opinion. Doesn't he look like all-get-out?" "Looks like get-out-of-the-front-line to me, sir," said the medical officer. "A couple of weeks back would set him on his feet. You say the word, sir, and I'll send him back this very day." "But the show!" exclaimed Hammer. "I must go out to-night, sir!" "Hammer is the only officer with his party, sir," said Capt. Keen to the colonel. "As you know, sir, we held the organization down this time to only one officer with each of our four parties--because officers are not very plentiful with us just now." "That's the trouble!" exclaimed the colonel. "They hem and haw and chew the rag over our recommendations for commissions and keep sending us green officers from England who don't know the fine points of the game. So here we are forced to let Hammer go out to-night, when he should be in his blankets. But back he goes to-morrow!" Dave had intended to sleep that afternoon, but the excitement caused by the news of his promotion made it impossible. He who had never missed a minute's slumber through fear of death was set fluttering at heart and nerves by the two worsted "pips" on each sleeve of his borrowed jacket. The coat was borrowed--but the right to wear the stars was his, his very own, earned in Flanders. He toured the trenches--fire, communication and support--feeling that his stars were as big as pie plates.