Up that long, long, steep street we plugged along, rested, then pushed on well clear of the town, and halted beside a pretty green meadow in the woods for lunch. After we finished our hard bread, corned willy and jam, and were lying about in heavenly idleness for a few minutes, Roy Schuyler’s eye fell upon the bn. adjutant’s horse; a dignified and rotund, rather elderly mare, indulging in a roll while her saddle and bridle were off. In a minute Roy was on the astonished beast’s back. Encouraged by a couple of hearty thwacks from a club, Mary started on a very creditable imitation of youthful gamboling. It was a gallant sight for a summer afternoon. Often since, the picture has come back to me--the prancing horse, the laughing young rider with one hand in her mane, the other brandished aloft. But our time is up; Mary must resume her saddle, and we our packs, and off we go. The shadows lengthened; the sun dropped down behind the hills, and the long French twilight set in. Still no sign of our guides to indicate our billet was near. Village after village came into view, raised our hopes, and dashed them again as we plodded on. At last, at about 6:00 P. M., we slogged into Merrey. There the Colonel was waiting, in his car. He remarked cheerfully that he had had quite a hunt for billets, but had found a splendid spot. We hiked through the village, and turned off the road into the splendid spot--a pine grove, very wet and rooty as to floor, and no water around. We were satisfied to get off our feet, however. After the usual procedure of getting kicked out of X company’s area, and kicking Y company out of ours, we rigged up shelter tents or sleeping bags. Of course the water carts weren’t on hand, and dinner was held up. There are two recurrent occasions in a soldier’s life when the seconds drag most fearsomely; the interval between a shell’s landing and bursting; and the interval between the end of a hike and chow. Some of the boys went off to wash their feet in a pretty little pond a couple of fields away. That pond concealed some dark secret beneath its placid bosom. Whew! Didn’t it stink when disturbed? At reveille we rolled out of our blankets, pretty stiff and cold, but rested. Packs were rolled again, and we fell in at 9:00 A. M., Major Odom again commanding the battalion, and were off on the last lap. This was to be a short one, only about five miles. We passed a large field with a number of Boche prisoners at work, and at about 11:00 A. M. crossed a railroad, turned off the road to the right, and came upon a cantonment just outside of Breuvannes, where the battalion was billeted.