If Franz Schnitzel suspected Bixton of harboring plans for revenge, he kept it to himself. When in company with the four Brothers, Bixton's name seldom crossed his lips. Warned by the impetuous Jimmy to "look out for that hound," he merely replied, "I'm not afraid of him." No one save himself knew of the alert watch he kept on himself and his belongings. If Bixton tried to "put anything over on him," he proposed to be ready to hold his own. With the middle of November came the first signs of approaching winter. Light falls of snow blanketed the camp and the nights grew cold. Thanks to the beneficent efforts of that indefatigable band of Army welfare workers, the Red Cross, Uncle Sam's boys at Camp Sterling were the grateful recipients of extra quilts, sweaters, knitted wristlets and warm under-clothing. Among the more fortunately-situated soldiers, such as Jimmy Blaise, who were already well supplied with every comfort, these unexpected gifts were passed on by them to more needy comrades. Due to delay in the turning on of steam heat in the barracks, these extra quilts were particularly welcome. After the hard day's routine of outdoor drill, the tired soldier boys had on more than one night found their allotted bed covers insufficient against the snapping cold. It was the first real discomfort they had encountered since their enlistment, and the majority of the camp contingent accepted it in the spirit of true veterans. Veterans they were fast becoming. All traces of the rookie had long since vanished. They had acquired the erect carriage and long, purposeful stride that indelibly marks a man the world over as belonging or having once belonged to the military. Each day saw them engaged in learning or perfecting some necessary part of the soldier's trade. Strenuous practice hikes about camp, bayonet drills, trench instruction, target practice, together with the thousand and one details of military training, now entered into their scheme of life. Among them all, there was no finer example than Jimmy Blaise of what military training will do for a young man. He was not only a joy to look at, so far as soldierly bearing went. He was also verifying the early promise he had shown of inevitably rising from the lowly private to the rank of a non-commissioned officer. Off duty and among his bunkies he was the same easy-going Jimmy. On duty he was a man who regarded the Service as a religion and lived up to it devotedly. Whatever he was ordered to do he did, with an intelligence and finish which marked him as one who keenly _felt_ his responsibility. No one except himself was greatly surprised when, just a week before Thanksgiving, he received a warrant from Washington, which signified that his appointment to a corporalship had been approved by Major Sterns, his commanding officer. So far as friendliness can be demonstrated in the Army between a commissioned officer and an enlisted man, Jimmy stood well in the estimation of the major.