“Looks—but that’s all. They’re all alike. At a distance you think these darn French villages are the cat’s knee-knuckles, so to speak, but when you get in them it’s the same old stuff—a bunch of old, moss-covered buildings standin’ around a church that’s big enough for an Irish parish in a big New York City precinct. A gang of cows in the street; an army of sheep and goats runnin’ in and out of front doors; a few hungry-looking dogs; _beaucoup_ manure smoking in front of every door; some old men and women clatterin’ up and down in those wooden shoes—and you’ve got the best French village I ever stayed in. I’d rather pass the rest of my life in Yulee, Florida, than spend three months in one of these places durin’ peace-times. There’s a few trains pass through Yulee, and you get a newspaper once in a while; but in these French dumps the biggest excitement is that old village crier with his drum and line of talk that the inhabitants can’t _compree_, or a two-year-old newspaper posted up on the city hall, or _Mairie_, as they call it. I’m off ’em for life.” It was only four o’clock when the pair reached Issoncourt, but already the shades of oncoming night had started to curtain the early autumn day with a sort of purple haze that soon became a regular night mist. “Guess we’ll camp here for the night,” was Jimmy’s decision, as he noted the signs of night coming. Issoncourt had been attached to the sides of the main Verdun road, and everything that the town owned was in plain view from the middle of the street, or _Grande Rue_, as the villagers called the roadway. “Looks like there might be a _chambre_ in that house. We’ll reconnoiter a bit for a place to _cushay_,” and Jimmy started toward what he thought was the best-looking house on the street. Just as they reached the rough stone steps, after wading through the usual three feet of mud, a young colt came tearing through a barn door and nearly sent O. D. down for the count. Jimmy tapped at the door. “_Entrez_,” called a woman’s voice. McGee pushed the door in and both men stepped into the room. It was the same old stuff to Jimmy. The room was big and contained two beds that were built into the walls and canopied over with some kind of red curtain. A rickety table with a half-emptied bottle of _vin rouge_ on it stood in the center of the room. There was the usual number of chickens passing in and out to the barn. Several cats lounged about the great open fireplace that was bare of fire, except for a few pieces of smoking things that looked like grape-vines. A dog got up somewhere in the darkness and shook himself back to life. The woman who had told them to enter was not in sight.