your dixie!"

I protested that I had wasted a half-hour on it already, and had used
up my only remaining shirt in the attempt. With a look of disdain, he
exclaimed: "Blow me, your shirt! Why in 'ell didn't you use mud?"

Without a word in reply I got busy with the mud, and soon my dixie was
bright and shining.

Most of the afternoon was spent by the men writing letters home. I
used my spare time to chop wood for the cook, and go with the
Quartermaster to draw coal. I got back just in time to issue our third
meal, which consisted of hot tea, I rinsed out my dixie and returned
it to the cookhouse, and went back to the billet with an exhilarated
feeling that my day's labor was done. I had fallen asleep on the straw
when once again the cook appeared in the door of the billet with:

{Photo: Facsimilie of the "Green" Envelope.}

"Blime me, you Yanks are lazy. Who in 'ell's a'goin' to draw the water
for the mornin' tea? Do you think I'm a'goin' to? Well, I'm not," and
he left. I filled the dixie with water from an old squeaking well, and
once again lay down in the straw.



CHAPTER VII

RATIONS