CHAPTER IV

THE REST BILLET


"Here's a pretty kettle of fish, Jack!" Tom Raymond remarked several
hours later, as he came into the dingy dugout where his chum was sitting.

A number of other pilots and observers occupied the same quarters, which
had once been the refuge of German officers. Wretched though these
quarters were, they at least afforded security from the bursting shells
that were being sent across now and then by the enemy, from their
positions on the hills to the northwest.

Jack had been paying small heed to the merriment of his mates, who, like
most young men gathered together in a group, had been carrying on high.
Sitting there with his head resting on his hand he had allowed himself to
become buried in deep thought. A strained worried look had taken
possession of his usually sunny face.

"What's the matter now, Tom?" he asked, with a deep sigh, as though he
had been rudely brought back to a realization of the fact that he was
still in France, where the battle raged, and far removed from those
peaceful Virginia scenes he had been picturing.

"We're ordered out with that raiding party to-night," Tom continued,
lowering his voice to a whisper, since it was supposed to be a military