thereof as greasy as a rifle-breech. Contentment is theirs.

At the earliest cessation of their jaw-bones' activity, they serve up
the most ribald of raillery. They knock each other about, and clamor in
riotous rivalry to have their say. One sees even Farfadet smiling, the
frail municipal clerk who in the early days kept himself so decent and
clean amongst us all that he was taken for a foreigner or a
convalescent. One sees the tomato-like mouth of Lamuse dilate and
divide, and his delight ooze out in tears. Poterloo's face, like a pink
peony, opens out wider and wider. Papa Blaire's wrinkles flicker with
frivolity as he stands up, pokes his head forward, and gesticulates
with the abbreviated body that serves as a handle for his huge drooping
mustache. Even the corrugations of Cocon's poor little face are lighted
up.

Becuwe goes in search of firewood to warm the coffee. While we wait for
our drink, we roll cigarettes and fill pipes. Pouches are pulled out.
Some of us have shop-acquired pouches in leather or rubber, but they
are a minority. Biquet extracts his tobacco from a sock, of which the
mouth is drawn tight with string. Most of the others use the bags for
anti-gas pads, made of some waterproof material which is an excellent
preservative of shag, be it coarse or fine; and there are those who
simply fumble for it in the bottom of their greatcoat pockets.

The smokers spit in a circle, just at the mouth of the dug-out which
most of the half-section inhabit, and flood with tobacco-stained saliva
the place where they put their hands and feet when they flatten
themselves to get in or out.

But who notices such a detail?

* * * * *

Now, a propos of a letter to Marthereau from his wife, they discuss
produce.

"La mere Marthereau has written," he says. "That fat pig we've got at
home, a fine specimen, guess how much she's worth now?"

But the subject of domestic economy degenerates suddenly into a fierce
altercation between Pepin and Tulacque. Words of quite unmistakable
significance are exchanged. Then--"I don't care a what you say or what
you don't say! Shut it up!"--"I shall shut it when I want, midden!"--"A
seven-pound thump would shut it up quick enough!"--"Who from? Who'll
give it me?"--"Come and find out!"

They grind their teeth and approach each other in a foaming rage.
Tulacque grasps his prehistoric ax, and his squinting eyes are
flashing. The other is pale and his eyes h