ll sound at the stem. When the storm was over it
would grow and bloom again amid the wreckage. French and Germans, in the
intervals of battle, were often friendly with each other. They listened
to the songs of the foe, and sometimes at night they talked together.
John recognized the feeling. He knew that man at the core had not really
returned to a savage state, and a soldier, but not a believer in war, he
looked forward to the time when the grass should grow again over the
vast maze of trenches.

A shell bursting almost overhead put all such thoughts out of his mind
for the present. A hot piece of metal shooting downward struck on the
bottom of the trench and lay there hissing. John stepped over it and
passed on.

The cannonade was at its height, and he noticed that it was heavier than
usual. Perhaps the increase of volume was due to the presence of some
great dignitary, the Kaiser himself maybe, or the Crown Prince, or the
Chief of the General Staff. But it was only a flitting thought. The
subject did not interest him much.

The sky was turning darker and the heavy flakes of snow fell faster.
John looked up apprehensively. Snow now troubled him more than guns. It
was no welcome visitor in the trenches where it flooded some of them so
badly as it melted that the men were compelled to move.

As he walked along he was hailed by many friendly voices. He was well
known in that part of the gigantic burrow, and the adaptable young
American had become a great favorite, not only with the Strangers, but
with his French comrades. Fleury, coming out of a transverse cut,
greeted him. The Savoyard had escaped during the fighting on the Aisne,
and had rejoined the command of General Vaugirard, wounded in the arm,
but now recovered.

"Duty?" he said to John.

"Yes. Captain Colton has sent for me, but I don't know what he wants."

"Don't get yourself captured again. Twice is enough."

"I won't. There isn't much taking of prisoners while both sides keep to
their holes."

Fleury disappeared in one of the earthy aisles, and John went on,
turning a little later into an aisle also, and arriving at Captain
Cotton's post.

Daniel Colton had for his own use a wooden bench three feet long, set in
an alcove dug in the clay. Some boards and the arch of the earth formed
an uncertain shelter. An extra uniform hung against the wall of earth,
and he also had a tiny looking-glass and shaving materials. He was as
thin and dry as ever, add