as comfortable as any of its kind, but it was not like home, of course, and its accommodations were far short of even the worst camps the Motor Boys had put up at during their many journeys. Still there was not a word of complaint. It was war--war for freedom--and discomforts were laughed at.  
"Name of a name, how it rains! as our friends the French say," exclaimed Jerry, as he came into the dugout prepared to turn in, for he had been sent on a message by an officer after supper.  
"Hard?" asked Ned, who, like Bob, was in a sort of bunk."Hard? I should say so. Look; my tin hat is dented from the drops!" and Jerry took it off and pretended to point out indentations made by the rain drops. He shook his slicker, and a spray of moisture flew about.

"Here! Quit that!" called a tall, lanky soldier from the bunk across from Jerry. "If you want to give a moving picture of a Newfoundland dog go outside! I'm just getting dry."

"Beg your pardon, old man!" exclaimed Jerry. "I didn't realize how wet I was."

He took off some of his garments, hanging them where they might possibly get partly dry by morning, and then turned in. Whether he and his chums would get a peaceful night's sleep or not, depended on the Huns across No Man's Land. If an attack was started it meant that the soldiers in the dugouts, as well as those on guard in the trenches, would have to jump into the fight. With this end in view, everyone on turning in for the night had his weapons ready, and few did more than make an apology for undressing. That was left until they went on rest billet. Guns, grenades and gas masks were in readiness for instant use.

But the night passed undisturbed.

"Oh, for some hot coffee!" exclaimed Bob, as he tumbled out the next morning in answer to the call to duty.

"Dry up!" ordered Jerry. "You ought to be glad to get it cold!"

"Well, I'll try to be," assented Bob. "Where's Ned?"

"Said he was going to see if he could get a bit of wood for a fire. But if he finds any, which isn't likely, it'll be as wet as a sponge after this rain. Suffering hand grenades! Will it ever let up?" cried Jerry, for it was still pouring.

Simple preparations were going on for breakfast. There was no sign yet of any of the carriers with big kettles of hot coffee or soup, and it was evident that the commissary had not yet been reorganized since the last breakdown. Afterward, 

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