But with the falling of darkness the high spirits of the crowd broke loose. That night there was a battle royal in the barracks. The lower squad room, which housed among others the N. C. O.’s, decided to raid the two upper squad rooms. Word of this having been passed up, the upper squad rooms were prepared. At the top of the stairs were stationed the fire buckets, filled to the top, and a pile of coal stolen from the kitchen and secretly conveyed to the upper floor by means of baskets, a window and a rope. Twice the lower squad reached the top of the staircase, amid wild yells and much splashing of water. The hall and stairs were running small rivers. Coals, recklessly flung down, were salvaged like hand grenades by the attacking force and thrown back again. The noise penetrated to august quarters, and the sentry at the door, placed there for just such an emergency, having been infected with the mad desire to fight, and being at that moment in the act of climbing the coal rope to attack the enemy from the rear, an officer with a flash was at the door before he was seen. Followed instantaneous quiet with the only sound the dripping of water down the stairs. Followed the silent retreat of the warriors to beds, into which they crept fully dressed. The officer moved through the lower squad room. It was extremely quiet save for an occasional deep-throated snore. The officer smiled grimly and went away. And in the darkness Sergeant Gray sat up and felt of his right eye. In the early dawn, hearing the cook stirring, he went across to the mess hall, a strange figure in his undergarments, with one eye closed and a bruise on his forehead as big as an egg. The cook eyed him angrily, and addressed him without regard to his dignity as a sergeant. “Some o’ you fellows get busy and bring back that coal you took last night,” he said. “I got something else to do.” “Look here, Watt,” said Sergeant Gray appealingly, “I’ll get the coal for you all right. But give me a piece of raw beefsteak, won’t you? Look at this eye.” “Pleased to see it,” said the cook with a vindictive glare. “Forget it, Watt. I’ll get your coal. See here, I’ve got leave to-morrow, and I want to go to the city.” “Well, you can go, for all of me.” “I want,” said Sergeant Gray plaintively, “to get my picture taken. I want to send it to my mother.” Suddenly the cook laughed. He leaned over the big serving counter and laughed until he was weak. “Picture!” he said. “My word! She’ll think the Germans have had you! Say, give me one, will you?” He went to the refrigerator, however, and brought out a piece of raw beef.