“Expect stuff in to-morrow. Hard to get transportation,” curtly. “Oh, well. We’ll live through it,” said Jimmy. Once outside Pop Rigney said what he thought. “What the hell is wrong with them guys? Always the same old stuff—’Out to-day; come to-morrow. I’m off ’em,” declared Pop. “Damn if I know. Look at the Château-Thierry times when we never was able to get the stuff. I’m for the Salvation Army every time,” announced Jimmy. “We used to have darn good Y. M. C. A.’s back at the replacement camps. Always had lots of cigarettes, chocolate, and cakes. Twice a week we had pictures and shows,” stated O. D. “Sure, ’way back in the S. O. S.—why wouldn’t they have everything? What good is that doin’ the guys up at the front where you can’t buy the stuff. Just like the eats and clothes. Back in the States I guess the folks think that all the good stuff goes up to the fightin’ men. Like hell it does,” snapped Jimmy. A big green truck approached them. “Hell, there’s the Regimental Supply truck. Let’s climb on,” shouted Neil as he started running to meet the camion. “Make it fast, boys,” said Champ, the driver, “I got to get back to camp and make another trip for supplies before night. We’re movin’ up to-morrow, you know.” “Good stuff. Where ’re we goin’? Anybody know?” asked Jimmy. “Yep; near a place that sounds like Rupt. Something else tacked onto it, but don’t remember. We’re goin’ to start this drive soon.” “Gettin’ any fresh beef in for supplies now?” asked Joyce. “_Beaucoup_ ‘canned willy’; that’s about all,” replied Champ. “Get ready to _monjay_ that stuff another two months, I guess. Wouldn’t it give a man a pain!” groaned Neil. “There’s the gang over yonder along that road. See ’em?” asked Champ, pointing to a road over to the left. “_Oui_, pretty good camouflage; but you can tell it,” answered Jimmy. “I don’t see anything. Where do you mean?” asked O. D. “All along that road. See the tree branches and stuff that looks like it’s growin’ out in the road. That’s the guns and stuff. They’re camouflaged on account of Boche planes. The horses are down in the woods some place,” explained Jimmy. “I see now what you mean. Gee! that camouflage is fine stuff; I’d never know it was anything from here,” admitted O. D. “You’ll pick camouflage from the real stuff _toot sweet_, O. D.; don’t worry.” “Say, we better hit the road here and slip in. Some boob may ask what we’re doin’ blowin’ in at this time of day,” suggested Joyce. The crew acted on his advice and approached the camp from the woods. Just before gaining the fringe of road where pieces, caissons, wagons, and a lot of equipment were hidden beneath newly cut branches, a bugle blasted out “Attention!” “A Boche plane goin’ over. That means take cover, O. D.,” explained McGee. A few minutes later the bugle sounded recall and everybody went about their business with little ado.