"Of course we will, sir!"
Coffee was ready. The Captain pulled his aluminium cup out of his pocket and dipped it into the black beverage smoking in the kettle. The gunners stood round him, their drinking-tins in their hands, waiting their turn, and when he had filled his cup helped themselves one after the other. Conversation ceased, and the men sipped their coffee.
After a while the cook said:
"There's some more!"
"How much?" asked the Captain, anxious not to deprive any one.
"A good half-pint each."
The Captain helped himself and the men followed suit. Then, as there still remained a little coffee mixed with grounds the operation was repeated.
With that startling rapidity which we had observed each time we had had to retire on the Meuse, the country became alive with lines of infantry. Companies and battalions were emerging from the woods and from behind the hedges, and overspread the stubble-fields, massing in the hollows.
"Hallo! what does that mean?" asked Bréjard.
"Are those swine turning tail?" exclaimed Millon, crossing his arms.