John recognized the feeling. He knew that man at the core had not really
returned to a savage state, and a soldier, but not a believer in war, he
looked forward to the time when the grass should grow again over the
vast maze of trenches.

A shell bursting almost overhead put all such thoughts out of his mind
for the present. A hot piece of metal shooting downward struck on the
bottom of the trench and lay there hissing. John stepped over it and
passed on.

The cannonade was at its height, and he noticed that it was heavier than
usual. Perhaps the increase of volume was due to the presence of some
great dignitary, the Kaiser himself maybe, or the Crown Prince, or the
Chief of the General Staff. But it was only a flitting thought. The
subject did not interest him much.

The sky was turning darker and the heavy flakes of snow fell faster.
John looked up apprehensively. Snow now troubled him more than guns. It
was no welcome visitor in the trenches where it flooded some of them so
badly as it melted that the men were compelled to move.

As he walked along he was hailed by many friendly voices. He was well
known in that part of the gigantic burrow, and the adaptable young
American had become a great favorite, not only with the Strangers, but
with his French comrades. Fleury, coming out of a transverse cut,
greeted him. The Savoyard had escaped during the fighting on the Aisne,
and had rejoined the command of General Vaugirard, wounded in the arm,
but now recovered.

"Duty?" he said to John.