"Not half bad, eh, old man?" said Bart, giving his chum a bang on the shoulder.
"I should say not," replied Frank. "They don't seem to have forgotten much. It's neat but not gaudy."
"Now if our friend, the chef, is all right," grinned Bart, "and isn't stingy with the grub, we'll have nothing left to ask for."
"We'll get a line on that pretty soon, I hope," said Frank, his eyes wandering wistfully in the direction of the mess tent. "That hike's made me hungry enough to eat nails. When the mess horn toots you won't be able to see me, I'll run so fast."
"I'll race you," said Bart. "Mother used to say I had the appetite of a wolf. Now I feel like a pack of 'em."
Any misgivings that they might have had on that subject were promptly dispelled by their first meal in camp. The food served was well cooked and abundant and those who sought a second or even a third helping were not denied.
"Well," remarked Bart, with a sigh born of comfort and repletion as he rose from the meal, "I guess Napoleon was right when he said that an army travels on its stomach."
"Gee, if that's so, Uncle Sam's boys will travel some distance," said Billy Waldon with a grin.
"As far as Berlin, you bet!" cried Frank emphatically.
Before many days had passed the regiment had fully settled down into the routine of army life at Camp Boone.