My! how I enjoyed “chow” that night when mess call sounded! And the dreamless sleep that followed, with clean straw and with a blanket spread over it for a bed!
CHAPTER VIII
“WHO COMES THERE?”
One of the first things I did on going into rest billet was to send word to Jonathan by Muddy.
Our friendship had grown stronger since entering the army, and we had kept it up by frequent intercourse; both by meetings and by exchange of notes back and forth by Muddy. When I put a note in his collar and told him to carry it to Jot, he seemed to understand what he must do; and these notes except, in one or two instances, reached their destination.
There were some jokes about the “Muddy mail,” but most of our comrades thought it was wonderfully intelligent that the dog understood when told to carry it.
There had never been any serious misunderstanding between Jot and me. Ever since coming to France, however, there had been vague insinuations that Jot was of German parentage and sympathies. There was nothing that I knew that warranted such a belief; but since I had learned that he spoke their language, these whispers of suspicion had increased until they affected me with just a little inner questioning. What was the reason for his being always so reticent about his father?
I did not, however, for a moment distrust his patriotism or loyalty to our country. The general distrust and hatred of everything German was common among all classes. It was but the natural result of the wicked and cruel policy of the German government and army, since entering upon this dreadful war, which now seemed to menace civilization and free government, so dear to Americans.
When Jot came to see me, as requested by my note through the “Muddy mail,” I told him of these rumors, and said: “Would it not be better to tell about your family, and stop these sinister rumors, for good?”
“You have confidence in me, haven’t you, Davie?” Jot replied.