"So the 'Warren' is in port from her last trip south," Hal went on. "Oh, I wonder when we start." "So do a lot of us," retorted Private Kelly. "But we hope it won't be soon, Sarge." "Oh, you coffee-coolers!" taunted Hal good-naturedly. The Army "coffee-cooler" is the man who is left behind in stirring times. Uncle Sam's soldiers explain that a coffee-cooler is a man who won't go forward, in the morning, until his coffee is cool enough for him to drink it with comfort. Hence a coffee-cooler is a man who is detailed on work at the rear of the fighting line simply because he is of no earthly use at the front. It is not as bad, however, to be a coffee-cooler as a cold-foot. A "cold-foot" is a soldier paralyzed with terror; he is worse than useless anywhere in the Army. The cold-foot is ironically asked why he didn't bring his woolen socks along. If a cold-foot gets into deadly action it is said that the cold chills chase each other down his spine and all settle in his feet, so that he is frozen in his tracks. However, a soldier who betrays cowardice in the face of the enemy may be shot for his cowardice, for which reason "cold feet" sometimes become cold for all time to come. Soldiers there have been who have shown "cold feet" in their first battle or two, and yet have been among the best of soldiers later on. But the cold-foot is a rarity, anyway, among the regulars. "Hello," broke in Kelly, peering out through the rain, "there goes some good fellow to the rainmakers." Many of the other soldiers looked. Two hospital-corps men were carrying a stretcher in the direction of the post hospital. None could make out, however, who was on the stretcher, as, owing to the downpour of rain, the unfortunate one was covered with three or four rubber ponchos. "I hope none of our good fellows is badly hurt," broke in Sergeant Noll Terry. "Rheumatism, most likely," grunted Corporal Hyman. "Did you ever see a country where the rain fell as steadily when it got started?" "Well, this is the rainy season, isn't it?" inquired Noll. "Yes." "But half of the year we have a dry season, don't we?" "We do," admitted Hyman. "Yet, of the two, you'll prefer the wet season a whole lot. In the dry season the dust is blowing in your face day and night." An orderly stepped briskly out on the veranda. "Sergeant Overton is directed to report immediately to Lieutenant Prescott at the latter's quarters." "I'll be there before the words are out of your mouth, Driggs," laughed Hal, rising and starting. "Hold on, Sarge," called Private Kelly. "Look at the sheets of dew coming down, and you haven't your poncho. Here, put mine on." "Thank you; I will," Hal assented, halting. The poncho is a thin rubber, blanket-like affair. In the field the men usually spread the poncho on the ground, under their blankets. But in the middle of the poncho is a hole through which the head may be thrust, the poncho then falling over the trunk of the body like a rain coat.