first."

At her rail crowded hundreds of boys in khaki, demanding in English and
atrocious French to know where they were.

"Are we in France?" one called.

"Where's the Boiderberlong, anyway?" another shouted, the famous
Parisian boulevard evidently being his only means of identifying
France.

"Is that Napoleon's tomb?" another demanded, pointing to a little round
building.

"Look at the pile of hams," shouted another gazing over the rail at a
stack of that delectable. "Maybe we're in _Hamburg_!"

"This is Dippy," his neighbor corrected him.

"You mean Deppy," another said.

And so on and so on. There seemed to be hundreds of them, thousands of
them, and all on a gigantic picnic.

"Which is the quickest way to Berlin?" one called, addressing the throng
impartially.

"Second turn to your left."

Some of these boys would settle down in France and make it their long,
final home, under little wooden crosses. But they did not seem to think
of that.

At the foot of the gangplank stood the dispatch-rider and the man with
the cigar. Several other men, evidently of their party, stood near by.
Mr. Conne's head was cocked sideways and he scanned the gangway with a
leisurely, self-assured look. Tom was shaking all over--the victim of
suppressed excitement. He had been less excited on that memorable
morning when he had "done his bit" at Cantigny.

It seemed to be in the air that something unusual was likely to happen.
Workers, passing with their wheelbarrows and hand trucks, slackened
their pace and dallied as long as they dared, near the gangplank. They
were quickly moved along. Tom shifted from one foot to the other,
waiting. Mr. Conne worked his cigar over to the opposite corner of his
mouth and observed to an American officer that the day was going to be
warm. Then he glanced up and smiled pleasantly at the boys crowding at
the rail. He might have been waiting on a street corner for a car.

"Not nervous, are you?" he smiled at Tom.

"Not exactly," said Tom, with his usual candor; "but it seems as if
nothing can happen at all, now that we're here. It seems different,
thinking up things when you're riding along the road--kind of."

"Uh huh."

Presently the soldiers began coming down the gangplank.

"You watch for resemblances and I'll do the rest," said Mr. Conne in a
low tone. "Give yourself the benefit of every doubt. Know what I mean?"

"Yes--I do."

"I can't help you there."

Tom felt a certain co