“Rest? Hell, man, there ain’t no such thing in this man’s army. Time we got pulled out of Château-Thierry we went back to La Ferté and waited there for trains to take us to a rest area I got transferred back to Battery C there. We was only in that rest area ten days and while there I’ll bet we did more work than at the front. We had hikes every day and drillin’. They even tried to pull that salutin’ stuff again. Only good thing ’bout the rest area was that we could take a bath, as there was _beaucoup_ little creeks ’round, and of course it’s warm here in August. On the tenth day I was standin’ on a big lawn with Samson and a couple of other guys lookin’ at the divisional minstrel. Right in the middle of the song up jumps the C. O. of the regiment and bawls out, ‘Men we’re off to another fight!’ He must have been an actor in civil life ’cause he sure did pull the old dramatic stuff; believe he waited just for that minute to spill the beans ’bout movin’ to another front. That night we was on the old road hikin’. Got on another French train. Hit Bar-le-Duc two days ago, started hikin’ this way yesterday mornin’ and I got lost from the gang last night. That’s all there is to it, O. D. Just waitin’ for the _guerre_ to _finee_ now. Then we’ll get a seven-day leave, _purtet_—that’s what the Frogs say for perhaps. What do you say to a little _cushayin’_, O. D.? I get kinda drowsy in the eyes ’round _nerver_—used to hittin’ the blankets ’bout seven bells every night now, tryin’ to make up for time lost at Château-Thierry.” Jimmy yawned to show how true his statement was. “Jimmy, you don’t mind if I tell some of the things you said to Mary and mother in my next letter, do you?” asked O. D., as he was pullin’ his hobnails off. “No—just so long as you don’t hit the _guerre_ stuff too hard. That red, battle-front stuff ain’t good for their hearts, you _savvy_? Gets ’em all scared for nothin’,” cautioned Jimmy. Both boys were tired and they were almost asleep when Jimmy stirred and blurted out: “Say, O. D., I forgot to tell you that you’re liable to get _beaucoup_ cooties _cushayin’_ with me. I’m crawlin’.” “I’ll get them sooner or later, anyhow, won’t I?” asked O. D. “Sure thing,” assured the man with cooties. “Then I might just as well get used to them _toot sweet_,” declared the man who was about to find out just what the thing that Jimmy McGee called the _guerre_ really meant. “That’s the right dope. You won’t be long gettin’ on the front if you’re willin’ to learn. _Bon swoir_, O. D.” Jimmy felt mighty proud of his new pupil, then he dropped off and forgot the _guerre_ in a dream of Mary Preston. CHAPTER XI—A CRAW DE GUERRE “_Bonjour_, O. D. How did you _cushay_?” was Jimmy McGee’s greeting to O. D. the next morning as he came out of a sound sleep. “Great sleeping in these beds, Jimmy. Don’t know just how I’ll get out. Gee! I’m down about four feet.”