exclaimed Leon with a wry smile.

"Coudert says," continued Jacques, "that that trench we just left back
there on the hill is half full of reinforcements for us."

"We can use them," said Earl shortly.

"Ready," came the order, and with a final adjustment of his equipment
every man prepared himself for the dash that was to come.

The men scrambled up the sides of the giant crater. From the pits on
both sides of them the other sections were doing the same thing.

"Spread out," was the order. "Advance in open formation."

With several feet between them the French dashed down the hill. The
German machine-guns barked at them angrily and the spiteful crack of
the rifles could be heard now and then above the din of the cannonade.
Two hundred yards from the enemy's positions they flung themselves down
upon the ground and began digging furiously. Every man had a shovel in
his equipment and he made the dirt fly.

In an incredibly short time a parapet a little over a foot high was
thrown up and every man's knapsack was placed to keep the dirt in
position so that they were fairly safe against infantry and machine-gun
fire. This done, every soldier then began to dig a little individual
ditch for himself. Three feet deep and two feet wide and long enough
to lie down in they furnished excellent protection against anything but
a direct hit by one of the enemy's shells.

"Hello, Jacques," called Leon. "How do you feel?"

"Fine. Do you know our section didn't lose a man on the way down the
hill?"

"That so? Good for us."

"Where's Earl?"

"The other side of you, I think. Yell at him."

"Hey, Earl," called Jacques.

"Hello," came the answer. "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to know if you were all right."

"Surely. I don't see the point in these piles of dirt in between the
ditches though. It seems to me that the dirt would do more good in
front."

"We've got enough in front," said Jacques. "You'll see the use in that
dirt in between us if a shell should ever land squarely in one of the
ditches."

Scarcely had he spoken when a 105-millimeter shell dropped directly
into the ditch next to Earl's. It was occupied by a man named Dumont
and he, poor fellow, was blown to atoms. Earl, however, thanks to the
"dirt" he despised so much was untouched.

"Their fire is slackening," remarked Jacques.

"Yes," agreed Leon. "There seems to be only one battery firing at us
now."

"That shows how good our ar