bang-bang-bang!" and his fist jerked out four blows in a row.
"Feenish!" he concluded, holding a hand out towards the German lines
and making a motion of rubbing something off the slate. Plainly they
were very proud of their artillery, and the Towers caught that word
"soixante-quinze" in every tone of pleasure, pride, and satisfaction.
But as Private Robinson said, "I don't wonder at it. Cans is a good
name, but can-an'-does would be a better."

When the last of the Frenchmen had gone, the Towers completed their
settling in and making themselves comfortable in the vacated quarters.
The greatest care was taken to avoid any man showing a British cap or
uniform. "Snapper" Brown, urged by the public-spirited 'Enery Irving,
exhausted himself in playing the "Marseillaise" at the fullest pitch of
his lungs and mouth-organ. His artistic soul revolted at last at the
repetition, but since the only other French tune that was suggested was
the Blue Danube Waltz, and there appeared to be divergent opinions as
to its nationality, "Snapper" at last struck, and refused to play the
"Marseillaise" a single time more. 'Enery Irving enthusiastically took
up this matter of "acting so as to deceive the Germans."

"Act!" he said. "If I'd a make-up box and a false mustache 'ere, I'd
act so as to cheat the French President 'imself, much less a parcel of
beer-swilling Germs."

The German trenches were too far away to allow of any conversation, but
'Enery secured a board, wrote on it in large letters "Veev la France,"
and displayed it over the parapet. After the Germans had signified
their notice of the sentiment by firing a dozen shots at it, 'Enery
replaced it by a fresh one, "A baa la Bosh." This notice was left
standing, but to 'Enery's annoyance the Germans displayed in return a
board which said in plain English, "Good morning." "Ain't that a knock
out," said 'Enery disgustedly. "Much use me acting to deceive the
Germans if some silly blighter in another bit o' the line goes and
gives the game away."

Throughout the rest of the day he endeavored to confuse the German's
evident information by the display of the French cap and of French
sentences on the board like "Bong jewr," "Bong nwee," and "Mercridi,"
which he told the others was the French for a day of the week, the
spelling being correct as he knew because he had seen it written down,
and the day indicated, he believed, being Wednesday--or Thursday. "And
that's near enough," he sai