t a chill to the boy's heart. It required
no second glance to discover that this was the unrescued body of a
soldier who had been too daring. Pen had seen his first war-slain
corpse. Indeed, war was becoming to him now a reality. For, suddenly,
a little of the soft earth at his side spattered into his face. An
enemy bullet had struck there. In his eagerness to see he had exposed
too much of his head and shoulders and had become the target for Boche
sharpshooters. Other bullets pattered down around his loop-hole, and
only by seeking the quick shelter of the trench did he escape injury
or death. It was his first lesson in self-protection on the
firing-line, but he profited by it. Two hours later he and Aleck, who
had also been doing duty on a lookout platform, were relieved by their
comrades, and threw themselves down on the straw of their dug-out and,
wearied to the point of exhaustion, slept soundly. With the dawning of
day the noise of cannonading increased, the whining of deadly missiles
grew more incessant, the crash of exploding shells more frequent, but,
until they were roused by their sergeant and bidden to eat their
breakfast which had been brought by a ration-party, both boys slept.
So soon had the menacing sounds of war become familiar to their ears.
After breakfast those who were not on sentry duty were put to work
repairing trenches, filling sand-bags, enlarging dug-outs, pumping
water from low places, cleaning rifles, performing a hundred tasks
which were necessary to make trench life endurable and reasonably
safe. The food was good and was still abundant. There were fresh meat,
bacon, canned soups and vegetables, bread, butter, jam and coffee. The
two hours on sentry duty were by far the most strenuous in the daily
routine. To remain in one position, with eyes glued to the narrow slit
in the embankment, gas mask at hand, hand-grenades in readiness, rifle
in position ready to be discharged on the second, the fate of the
whole army perhaps resting on one man's vigilance, this was no easy
task.

But there were no complaints. The men were on the firing line, ready
to obey orders, whatever they might be; they asked only one thing
more, and that was to fight. But, in these days, there was a lull in
the actual fighting. The "big drive" had not yet been launched. Aside
from a skirmish now and then, a fierce bombardment for a few hours,
an attempt, on one side or the other, to rush a trench, there was
little aggres