Clear of the trenches at last, it proved a long, tiresome march to billets. The roads over which the Khaki Boys marched were rough and full of shell holes. Long before they reached their destination a fine rain began to fall, which soaked them to the skin. With it, however, came a dense fog, which was a great help in concealing them from enemy eyes. An hour before dawn, when almost to billets, they heard a reverberating roar, which they guessed to be that of the German guns. It announced to them that Fritz had again begun his "strafeing." Every Sammie's heart beat faster, as the welcome voices of their own big guns boomed forth in answer. To the thunderous tune played by these noisy orchestras of war, the rain-drenched Khaki Boys at last reached billets. These consisted of several stables, a deserted schoolhouse, and a long, barn-like structure, which had been used by the Allies at the beginning of the war as a supply depot. To his great satisfaction, Jimmy drew the supply depot as a billet. It was large enough to accommodate two hundred men, and when dawn came he was overjoyed to find all three of his bunkies had been quartered there, too. "Talk about style," exulted Bob, when a little later the quartette sat cross-legged in a row, devouring a breakfast of bacon, bread and coffee. "This is almost as good as a real barracks. It's about the cleanest billet we've struck since we started out in dear old Eight Horses." "It's pure luck, our getting together." Roger sighed his satisfaction. "I'll bet we'll have a real cushy time while it lasts. I hope we don't get shelled. Listen to the guns. It must be hail Columbia now in the front-line trench on both sides. Seems funny to be away from it, doesn't it?" "I guess we've earned a rest," yawned Jimmy, "and a bath along with it, about four times a day. It'll take me three weeks to get clear of mud and these blamed cooties. First chance I get I'm going to hunt for a creek and live in it." "So will I," vowed Ignace. "I am the mud all over. My mothar now see, no believe I am the son to she." "I'd hate to have _my_ mother see me now," smiled Jimmy. "She wouldn't sleep nights for the next year. Just as soon as we get settled I'm going to write to her. I wrote every day to the folks while I was in the trenches. I hope some of those letters get across." "I guess they will, that is, if you didn't put anything in 'em that the censors got peeved at," rejoined Bob. "About all a fellow is allowed to write is 'I am well,' and 'good-bye.'" "Some of us ought to write to Schnitz's folks," said Roger soberly. "Not yet." Jimmy shook his head. "Wait awhile. Maybe Schnitz'll come back to us." "I don't believe it, Blazes," disagreed Bob sadly. "He got his out there in the dark, I'm afraid. Schnitz was the kind to fight till he dropped, rather than be taken prisoner."