"Why so?" asked Alfred.

"We have the permits, haven't we? Why are we waiting for that fellow at the station to get us an a.s.signment?" replied Ralph.

"That's a fact; let's make our own a.s.signment; come on," answered Alfred. "Is this train going south?" he asked, addressing a soldier who was about to enter a half-filled compartment.

"Aw! I dare say it is," was the jolly response.

"Get aboard," said Alfred.

Unabashed, they swung themselves up on the running board, and entered the compartment. The occupants glanced at them for a moment, and seeing the trim uniforms, at once became inquisitive.

"How did you happen to be directed to this train?" asked one of them.

"Oh, we attended to that ourselves," said Alfred.

"Our permit's all right, but we couldn't wait for them to make up their minds when we ought to go; so here we are," said Ralph, with a laugh.

"Well, you fellows'll do; but it's a long way to Tipperary," said a voice, which trailed off into the tune of the well-known song. His companions chimed in, and it was not long before the occupants of the adjoining compartments joined in the song. It was a jolly crowd, but no one seemed to know where they were going. All had heard of the rapid advance of the Germans toward Paris, and that General French was trying to impede their advance somewhere to the south.

It was fully nine o'clock that night before the train made a real start.

Before that time they were pushed around on the various sidings for an hour, and it was a relief to see the fields and feel the continual motion of the train as it finally speeded away.

There was no time for talk now. Each tried to find a comfortable place in order to get some sleep. They dozed and dozed, as most people are liable to do in uncomfortable surroundings, and some hours afterwards an orderly appeared at the door, shouting:

"All out, men; form in ranks."

"I suppose we shall have to get out, too," said Alfred.

"Why, no; this can't be Paris," replied Ralph.

"I know bally well it isn't," said a voice.

That settled it; tired and sleepy they swung off the running board, and looked at the long lines forming at the side of the train.

"Do you know where we are?" asked Ralph, addressing a soldier at his side.

"Don't know, my boy; we've had a steady run, though, for about three hours," was the reply.

"We are east of St. Quentin; we pa.s.sed through the city half an hour ago; this isn't much of a hill we are on, but the Germans and French fought a battle on this very spot in the campaign of 1870-1," said an officer.

Alfred saluted the officer, and asked: "How far are we from Paris, sir?"

"I think it must be fully a hundred miles," was the reply.

The men were ordered to line up, and soon the order came to march. As the boys had no other place to go, and the train was even then backing toward the city, they marched alongside of the column. The tramp was across open fields for a half-mile, where a road was sighted, but it was lined with troops, and heavy artillery, going eastwardly.

The column continued on, parallel with the road. It was dry, dusty and warm. There was a hum of sounds, and occasionally a boom or two, which the boys recognized from their previous experiences. The most emphatic voices were those of the drivers, who were piloting the horses drawing the artillery and caissons. An hour's march brought them to a small stream, which was crossed without waiting for boats or hunting for bridges, as it was easily waded.

Across the stream they ascended an elevation, at the crest of which was a line of soldiers busily at work with spades and pick-axes. Trenches were being formed. They were cheered by the workers, but there was no halting. On they went over level ground, only to meet another line of men similarly engaged. Several hundred feet beyond an order came like a shot: "Halt!"

An orderly came riding up at full speed, and looked around. "We are waiting for orders, I suppose," remarked a lieutenant.

The orderly put spurs to his horse, and rode to the right, as he espied a group of hors.e.m.e.n. "Form your men along this line, and dig in," he directed.

The order was given: "File to the right; halt; stack arms."

Several lorries, which had been following them, came up, and at a word of command the men began to unload shovels and picks. This began to look like business. It was now growing light, but it still lacked a half hour before sunrise.

"Why can't we lend a hand?" inquired Ralph.

"Of course we can," answered Alfred.

They were alongside in an instant. Ralph jumped into the vehicle, and helped to hand out the implements, while Alfred tried to edge his way in. Their earnestness attracted the officer in charge, and he smiled, and nodded his head in approval. Thus two van loads were dumped out, and carried forward of the rows of stacked arms.

An engineer officer marked out the line of the trench, and the men were set to work. They were now doing the job for a _real_ purpose, as during their month of training in England these men had been instructed how to go about the business of making trenches, and it was wonderful to see how quickly the furrows were dug out. They were about four feet deep, the earth being thrown up on the side toward the enemy, thus making a shelter trench five feet deep.

As soon as the main line was thus completed, traverses were cut, leading out at right angle to the rear of the main trench. These were formed in zig-zag fashion, the object being to form shelter sections along the entire trench, so that those within would not be subjected to what is called an enfilading fire.

CHAPTER V

ON THE FIRING LINE

"Look at the guns back there," shouted Ralph, as the company marched back to get their first breakfast after three hours of hard work.

"Come on, boys!" said the corporal in charge, smiling at the boys.

"You've worked pretty hard for lads of your age; come and have something to eat."

"So we will," said Alfred; "but what are the guns doing back there?" he asked, as he pointed out a battery which had limbered up and was wheeling into position.

"You will see in a few moments," replied the corporal, and before they reached the mess wagon the guns began to roar.

"How far away are the Germans?" asked Ralph.

"About two and a half miles, I should judge," replied the corporal, looking at the battery.

"How can you tell by looking at the guns?" asked Ralph.

"By their angle," was the answer.

Before they ceased speaking, the first shot was fired, then another and another, all of them trial shots, as one of the soldiers explained. Then another battery to the left, heretofore unnoticed, began to fire, while one posted higher up on the right, and two more beyond, chimed in. This was a new experience to the boys, as the Belgians, with whom they had formerly a.s.sociated, were lacking in field pieces compared with those they now saw and heard.

The challenge was promptly accepted by the Germans, and within fifteen minutes the whole crest to the east of them, probably two miles distant, seemed to be ablaze. It was singular, however, that none of the missiles fell near the troops where the boys were located. On a little elevation to the right of the kitchen vans the boys noticed a group of officers with field gla.s.ses, intently scanning the rear of their position.

"The blooming blokes are shooting too far," remarked a soldier.