“Oh, he might find some new kind of bug in 127 this—soup!” and Ned stirred the thick mud in the bottom of the trench with the butt of his gun. “It might be more interesting than seeing how noises affect French crickets.”
“Crickets!” cried Jerry. “I feel sorry for any self-respecting cricket that would stay here to be affected. But, speaking of the professor, I wish we could see him again. It would be like hearing from home, and the letters are few and far between.”
“That’s right,” admitted Ned. They had had some missives from their people, and also the girls, Alice, Helen and Mollie, while Bob, in addition, had had a note from Helena Schaeffer, who said she was knitting for the Red Cross. But, of late, no mail had come in.
“I shouldn’t be surprised to see the professor walk in on us any day,” mused Jerry. “He’s likely to do it.”
“Then he’d better get a hustle on, or he may not find us here,” observed Ned.
“Why not?” Bob inquired.
“Well, there’s a rumor that we’re soon going to attack again,” answered Ned. “And when we go over the top we don’t come back to the old trenches. We make new ones. So the professor, if he doesn’t come soon, may find we have changed our address.”
“Going to make an attack!” Jerry spoke softly. 128 “Well, that’s the way to win the war. I hope it will stop raining, though. I hate to fight in the rain.”
But still the dreary drizzle kept up, and through it the soldiers plodded in the mud of the trench. It was nearly time for the three chums to be relieved when Ned, who had a post at the right of Jerry, suddenly gave a start, following a distant report.
“What is it?” asked his tall chum.