"The mill—what kind of mill?" inquired Green, with unlooked-for interest, for Private Willie had been employed in a grist mill before enlisting.
"The mil-len-nium," explained Private Overton patiently, though with a twinkle in his eyes.
"Never heard of that mill," replied Private Green rather disdainfully. "What's it for?"
"Why, you see, Greenie—pardon me, I mean Willie," continued Hal Overton, while the other soldiers in the squad room, scenting fun, remained silent, "it's like this: The millennium is the age that may come some time. The peace-spouters tell us that the millennium is coming in two weeks from autumn. That millennium is the age when all war will be abolished and soldiers will have to go to work."
"What's all that got to do with what I was talking about?" demanded Private Green, bewildered and half offended.
"Wait, and Overton will tell you," warned Hal's chum, Noll Terry, who stood by looking decidedly trim and handsome in his spotless khaki uniform.
"Of course you know all about Armageddon?" resumed Hal.
"Never heard of him," retorted Green suspiciously, for he saw the amused looks in the faces of some of the soldiers standing about. "Say—hold on! Is Army-gid-ap——"
"Armageddon," corrected Hal quietly.
"Is that the name of the new breakfast food that the rainmaker (Army surgeon) was trying to have sprung on the bill of fare of our company mess?"