Castel. Why spoil a first-class herder to make a second-class soldier?"

He winked cunningly at Schmidt, who laughed.

"You're no great hero," said the German, "but if a man wants to take
care of his skin can he be blamed for doing so? Still, you're not so
safe here."

"How's that?" asked John in assumed alarm.

"Now and then the French send shells over that mountain in front of us
and when one is fired it's bound to hit somewhere. We haven't had any at
this point yet, but our time is sure to come sooner or later."

"Then I think I'll be going," said John, willing to maintain his new
reputation as a timid man.

Schmidt laughed again.

"Oh, no, not yet," he said. "Your passport isn't ready, and without it
you can't move. Have another glass of this beer. It was made in Munich,
and puts heart into a man."

John drank. It was really fine beer, and the food was excellent, warm
and well cooked. He had not realized before how hungry and thirsty he
was. It was a hunger and thirst that the cold meat and bread in his
knapsack and snow water would not have assuaged. Many Germans also were
refreshing themselves. He had noticed that in both armies the troops
were always well fed. Distances were short, and an abundance of railways
brought vast quantities of supplies from fertile regions.