"The medicine chef said that our quick run may have been the means of saving a life. That's the kind of thing which makes a chap feel satisfied to stick to the job no matter how fast the shells are falling."

"You bet!" agreed Don, heartily.

As they talked the sullen, angry roar of the guns came over the air, and every little while, rising sharply above it, the éclat, or explosion, of a shell landing somewhere among the trees.

At length the surgeons and ambulanciers sought shady spots close to the abri, for the day was growing hot, and only an occasional breath of air stirred the leaves and grasses.

Between twelve and two a curious lull came in the cannonading, an almost daily occurrence, which every one attributed to the fact that even the grim business of war must wait on appetite. The batteries of both sides started up briskly again, but the long hours of the afternoon wore on and drew to a close without the brancardiers bringing in any blessés.

A beautiful sunset sky tinged the tree tops with an echo of its brilliant colors, and as the daylight gradually faded, the moon in the east, shining resplendently, gained in strength until at length the forest became a fairylike place—a place of ghostly, silvery lights and grayish shadows.

Owing to the clearness of the night no traffic was moving close to the front; so the German batteries threw but few shells in the direction of the road.

"I guess I'll get a little rest," declared Rice, as midnight approached.

"So shall I," said Jim Roland. "I'm going to take mine in the car."

"Have a care, mon ami," advised Docteur Vianey.

"That's the trouble; we have too many already," chuckled the ambulancier.

Don and Dunstan, electing to follow Roland's example, a short time later climbed into number eight and made themselves comfortable on the brancards, or stretchers, using a rolled up blanket as a pillow. And while they lay there waiting—still waiting for the call of duty, the whistle of the "arrivés," as the shells which came from the German guns were called, and the "departs"—those hurled by the French batteries—frequently sounded over the air.

But the night passed without any especial incident.

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