side by side upright, head against foot. Thus can one cram each pouch
without leaving any space, and make himself a waistband that weighs
over twelve pounds.

Rifles have been cleaned already. One looks to the swathing of the
breech and the plugging of the muzzle, precautions which trench-dirt
renders indispensable.

How every rifle can easily be recognized is discussed. "I've made some
nicks in the sling. See, I've cut into the edge."

"I've twisted a bootlace round the top of the sling, and that way, I
can tell it by touch as well as seeing."

"I use a mechanical button. No mistake about that. In the dark I can
find it at once and say, 'That's my pea-shooter. Because, you know,
there are some boys that don't bother themselves; they just roll around
while the pals are cleaning theirs, and then they're devilish quick at
putting a quiet fist on a popgun that's been cleaned; and then after
they've even the cheek to go and say, 'Mon capitaine, I've got a rifle
that's a bit of all right.' I'm not on in that act. It's the D system,
my old wonder--a damned dirty dodge, and there are times when I'm fed
up with it, and more."

And thus, though their rifles are all alike, they are as different as
their handwriting.

* * * * *

"It's curious and funny," says Marthereau to me "we're going up to the
trenches to-morrow, and there's nobody drunk yet, nor that way
inclined. Ah, I don't say," he concedes at once, "but what those two
there aren't a bit fresh, nor a little elevated; without being
absolutely blind, they're somewhat boozed, pr'aps--"

"It's Poitron and Poilpot, of Broyer's squad."

They are lying down and talking in a low voice. We can make out the
round nose of one, which stands out equally with his mouth, close by a
candle, and with his hand, whose lifted finger makes little explanatory
signs, faithfully followed by the shadow it casts.

"I know how to light a fire, but I don't know how to light it again
when it's gone out," declares Poitron.

"Ass!" says Poilpot, "if you know how to light it you know how to
relight it, seeing that if you light it, it's because it's gone out,
and you might say that you're relighting it when you're lighting it."

"That's all rot. I'm not mathematical, and to hell with the gibberish
you talk. I tell you and I tell you again that when it comes to
lighting a fire, I'm there, but to light it again when it's gone out,
I'm no good. I can't speak any stra