een these same artillerymen on town leave and
these same urchins had temporised the blind admiration that caused them
first to greet our men solely with shouts of "_Vive les Americains_."
Now that they knew us better, they alternated the old greeting with
shouts of that all-meaning and also meaningless French expression, "Oo
la la."

Our way led over the stone, spanned bridge that crossed the sluggish
river through the town, and on to the hilly outskirts where mounted
French guides met and directed us to the railroad loading platform.

The platform was a busy place. The regimental supply company which was
preceding us over the road was engaged in forcibly persuading the last
of its mules to enter the toy freight cars which bore on the side the
printed legend, "Hommes 40, Chevaux 8."

Several arclights and one or two acetylene flares illuminated the scene.
It was raining fitfully, but not enough to dampen the spirits of the Y.
M. C. A. workers who wrestled with canvas tarpaulins and foraged
materials to construct a make-shift shelter for a free coffee and
sandwich counter.

Their stoves were burning brightly and the hurriedly erected stove
pipes, leaning wearily against the stone wall enclosing the quay, topped
the wall like a miniature of the sky line of Pittsburgh. The boiling
coffee pots gave off a delicious steam. In the language of our battery,
the "Whime say" delivered the goods.

During it all the mules brayed and the supply company men swore. Most
humans, cognizant of the principles of safety first, are respectful of
the rear quarters of a mule. We watched one disrespecter of these
principles invite what might have been called "mulecide" with utter
contempt for the consequences. He deliberately stood in the dangerous
immediate rear of one particularly onery mule, and kicked the mule.

His name was "Missouri Slim," as he took pains to inform the object of
his caress. He further announced to all present, men and mules, that he
had been brought up with mules from babyhood and knew mules from the
tips of their long ears to the ends of their hard tails.

The obdurate animal in question had refused to enter the door of the car
that had been indicated as his Pullman. "Missouri Slim" called three
other ex-natives of Champ Clark's state to his assistance. They
fearlessly put a shoulder under each of the mule's quarters. Then they
grunted a unanimous "heave," and lifted the struggling animal off its
feet. As a perf