"I tell you I had a hunch out there in the trench that I'd see him again," Jimmy stubbornly asserted. "It came to me just as plain as anything, 'Schnitz isn't croaked. He'll come back.'" "You think Schnitz he come back, so think I," nodded Ignace, who was always fond of backing up his best Brother's statements. "Well, I hope it works out that way," declared Roger kindly. Privately, his belief in hunches was not strong. "I wish I'd never let him go that night," Jimmy continued moodily. "If he'd waited ten minutes longer, as I did, the two of us would have got back to the lines together." "You might not have, at that," was Bob's opinion. "You can't tell how it would have come out. His way was the wisest." Continuing to talk of Schnitzel, the memory of whom was constantly before them, the four Brothers finished breakfast and went outside their quarters to look around them. As they had been on the march nearly all night, they expected to sleep part of the day. So far as military routine was concerned, they were "on their own" until Taps that night. Next morning, however, they would be subject to the usual military routine they had observed when in the training camps. Wandering about in the vicinity of their billet, the four Brothers whooped with joy at sight of a good-sized creek, which looked to be not more than a quarter of a mile back of the depot. Hastily repairing to their quarters, they got out soap, towels, and clean underwear. Laden with these, an extra uniform blouse, and a pair of clean leggins apiece, they raced across the fields to the creek, and were soon jubilantly swimming about in its clear, but very cold water. It was the first real bath that any of them had enjoyed since leaving the village where they had been briefly quartered before going on their long march to the trenches. Cold as the water was, they soon grew used to it, and had a glorious time splashing about in its clear depths. After their bath, they donned clean clothing, washed out their discarded underwear, hanging it to dry in the sun on some low bushes nearby. They also gave their soiled leggins a much-needed scrubbing. By the time the leggins had become presentable again, their wash was partially dry. "We can't wait all day for these duds to get dry." Bob passed a critical hand over his damp wash. "Let's take 'em back to billet and hang 'em up there. Now I've had a bath, I want to go bye-bye. Besides, we ought to tell the other guys about this French swimming pool. They need a bath, too." "Tell 'em nothing. Listen to that! Look over there!" Jimmy pointed across the field. A dozen men were charging toward them, yelling and wildly waving clean clothing, towels or whatever they chanced to have in their hands. "Discovered," grinned Bob. "Welcome to our bath tub!" he shouted, as the running group drew near. "Jump in, the water's fine. It's a sure cure for trench mud and live stock."