“I knew it was in you, Porter,” said the captain heartily. “You are certainly a natural-born civil engineer. I predict after this war is over that you’ll make quite a hit with the Mentor Construction Company or some other big concern.”
During those days Dave sent several letters home and received one communication, this time from Caspar Potts. The old professor wrote in a very trembling hand, and the communication consisted of less than a dozen lines. But brief as it was, it went straight to our hero’s heart.
“Dear old man!” he murmured, after he had read the letter several times. “If ever there was a good old soul in this world, that soul is Caspar Potts.” And he closed his eyes for a moment as a vision passed through his mind of the white-haired and trembling professor sitting in the Wadsworth library, adjusting his gold-rimmed spectacles to pore over one of his precious volumes.
The new troops to come to that vicinity arrived three days later while the engineers were hard at work. The company to which Nat Poole and Lieutenant Gebauer belonged were located in one of the second-line trenches, and immediately proceeded to make themselves as much at home as possible. Most of the soldiers took all the inconveniences good-naturedly, but the son of the money lender of Crumville did his usual share of grumbling.
“It’s a rotten place to stay in,” was Nat’s comment. “I don’t see why they can’t have the engineers fix up some really good quarters for us fellows.”
He was speaking to Gebauer at the time. Although Gebauer was a commissioned officer and Nat was only a private, the two, for some unknown reason, were very friendly. They had many tastes in common, and always acted chummy when no one else was present.
“Well, don’t blame me, Nat,” replied the lieutenant, bringing out his cigarette-case and supplying himself. “Have a cigarette. Maybe that will help you forget your troubles,” and he gave a sickly grin.
“I wonder how much longer this war is going to last.”
“That remains to be found out. Personally, I think the Germans are going to give us the fight of our lives,” continued Gebauer, in a somewhat lower voice.
“Don’t you think we can lick ’em?” demanded Nat.