done with dinner we will think about the letters. After that, we
shall set ourselves to wait for something else.

Hunger and thirst are urgent instincts which formidably excite the
temper of my companions. As the meal gets later they become
grumblesome and angry. Their need of food and drink snarls from
their lips--"That's eight o'clock. Now, why the hell doesn't it
come?"

"Just so, and me that's been pining since noon yesterday," sulks
Lamuse, whose eyes are moist with longing, while his cheeks seem to
carry great daubs of wine-colored grease-paint.

Discontent grows more acute every minute.

"I'll bet Plumet has poured down his own gullet my wine ration that
he's supposed to have, and others with it, and he's lying drunk over
there somewhere."

"It's sure and certain"--Marthereau seconds the proposition.

"Ah, the rotters, the vermin, these fatigue men!" Tirloir bellows.
"An abominable race--all of 'em--mucky-nosed idlers! They roll over
each other all day long at the rear, and they'll be damned before
they'll be in time. Ah, if I were boss, they should damn quick take
our places in the trenches, and they'd have to work for a change. To
begin with, I should say, 'Every man in the section will carry
grease and soup in turns.' Those who were willing, of course--"

"I'm confident," cries Cocon, "it's that Pepere that's