out of that before you are killed."

The man then raised his head and looked our way. He was a soldier. His
cap was slanted over one eye, his pipe dangled from his mouth, and his
face wore an expression of irritation. Seeing the officer, he saluted,
but did not trouble to stand up.

"What are you doing there?" the officer called. The man raised his
dirty fist to his cap, and said, "Digging carrots."

As we gasped our astonishment he calmly went back to his grubbing,
this time, it seemed, slightly nearer to the flash of the cannon than
before.

Another impressive sight afforded me was the manoeuvres behind the
lines. I do not mean strategic manoeuvres bearing upon real
operations, but manoeuvres such as were held in previous years--mimic
warfare within the sound of real war and only a couple of miles away.
Approaching the front, we were continually passing through these
manoeuvres. I calculated that I saw thousands of soldiers playing at
war and snapping empty rifles who the day before stood in the trenches
firing bullets, and who will do it again tomorrow. The manoeuvres come
during "days of repose" from the trenches, when the men know they at
least have that day more to live. Every field, every road was full of
them.

We motored along country lanes preferably to the main highways, where
our autos would be more easily discerned by the German aeroplanes
constantly hovering about. In these lanes we found lines of men
sneaking along, sometimes crawling inch by inch, to surprise an
imaginary enemy down around the bend. In the fields we saw charges and
counter-charges from trench to trench. We saw cavalry manoeuvres
across the open country and cavalry on foot facing each other in long
lines along the roadsides, fighting desperately with lance and clubbed
carbine.

Occasionally a real shell would come popping over from somewhere to
tear a hole in the roadside to make our automobiling more difficult.
In fact, we discovered that during "Joffre's offensive" days of repose
mean drill, drill, and more drill, and when the men are not drilling
many of them are guarding prisoners.

Along other roadsides we saw hundreds of prisoners, usually in charge
of a cavalry company marching them to the rear. At one place we
stopped and talked with them--several could speak French. There were
many well set up, fine-looking fellows, who seemed perfectly content
to do no more fighting. About a dozen under one guard were across the
road