umble of the coaches, interrupted by many stops, kept up. But in
the gray of the early morning, a short distance beyond Amiens, in the
midst of a mist covered meadow, the train pulled up for the last time.
This had been fighting ground. Here the invading hosts of Germany had
been met and driven back. Ruined farm houses, shattered trees, lines
of old trenches scarring the surface of the meadow, all told their
eloquent tale of ruthless and devastating war. And yonder, in the
valley, the slow-moving Somme wound its shadowy way between green
banks and overhanging foliage as peacefully and beautifully as though
its silent waters had never been flecked with the blood of dying men.
Even now, as the troops detrained and marched to the sections of the
field assigned them, the dull and continuous roar of cannon in the
distance came to their ears with menacing distinctness.

"It's the thunder of the guns!" exclaimed Pen. "I hope to-morrow finds
us where they're firing them."

"I'm with you," responded Aleck. "I shall be frightened to death when
they first put me under fire, but the sooner I'm hardened to it the
better."

"Tut! You'll be as brave as a lion. It's your kind that wins battles."

Pen turned his face toward a horizon lost in a haze of smoke, and the
look in his eyes showed that he at least, would be no coward when the
supreme moment came. Lieutenant Davis of their company strolled by;
impatiently waiting for further orders. He was a strict disciplinarian
indeed, but he was very human and his men all loved him. Pen pointed
in the direction from which came the muffled sounds of warfare.

"When shall we be there, Lieutenant?" he asked.

"I don't know, Butler," was the response. "It may be to-morrow; it may
be next month. Only those in high command know and they're not
telling. We may camp right here for weeks."

But they did not camp there. In the early evening there came marching
orders, and, under cover of darkness, the entire battalion swung into
a muddy and congested road and tramped along it for many hours. But
they got no nearer to the fighting line. Weary, hungry and thirsty,
they stopped at last on the face of a gently sloping hill protected
from the north by a forest which had not yet suffered destruction
either at the hands of sappers or from the violence of shells. It was
apparent that this had been a camp for a large body of troops before
the advancement of the lines. It was deserted now, but there were