feast. That funny dog, Loubet, he was the man to cure one of the dumps
if anybody could! And when the fire began to crackle in the sunlight,
and the kettle commenced to hum and bubble, they ranged themselves
reverently about it in a circle with an expression of cheerful
satisfaction on their faces, watching the meat as it danced up and
down and sniffing the appetizing odor that it exhaled. They were as
hungry as a pack of wolves, and the prospect of a square meal made
them forgetful of all beside. They had had to take a thrashing, but
that was no reason why a man should not fill his stomach. Fires were
blazing and pots were boiling from one end of the camp to the other,
and amid the silvery peals of the bells that floated from Mulhausen
steeples mirth and jollity reigned supreme.

But just as the clocks were on the point of striking nine a commotion
arose and spread among the men; officers came running up, and
Lieutenant Rochas, to whom Captain Beaudoin had come and communicated
an order, passed along in front of the tents of his platoon and gave
the command:

"Pack everything! Get yourselves ready to march!"

"But the soup?"

"You will have to wait for your soup until some other day; we are to
march at once."

Gaude's bugle rang out in imperious accents. Then everywhere was
consternation; dumb, deep rage was depicted on every countenance.
What, march on an empty stomach! Could they not wait a little hour
until the soup was ready! The squad resolved that their bouillon