"Wonder what's up?" asked Hal.
"I don't know," replied Chester, "but we may as well have a look. Come on."
He led the way and Hal followed him.
Coming closer the lads cried out in astonishment. Their eyes fell upon a body of troops that they knew in an instant could have hailed but from one part of the world. They were English—but a mere handful of them—not more than a single squad.
"By Jove!" said Hal. "I didn't know there were any British troops in this part of the field."
"Nor I," said Chester. "But what do you suppose all those fellows are laughing at?"
They drew closer. Coming upon the circle of troops that surrounded a single man, the lads stared in astonishment, and then they, too, broke into a loud laugh.
There, right in the foremost trench and therefore in the more danger from the enemy's fire, a tall, lank Englishman lay, stretched at full length upon the ground. His arms were above his head, and he appeared to be resting in perfect comfort, at peace with the world.
But it was something that protruded from the legs of his army trousers that had caused the merriment of the troops gathered about. The lanky Englishman had removed his puttees and exposed to the view of the astonished Frenchmen two silk-clad feet, and red silk at that.
"Great Scott!" exclaimed Hal. "Silk socks! and in this weather!"