latterly been bearing the brunt of the fierce attacks of the enemy.
"No, I don't believe such a thing as thunder couid happen over here, at this time of year, when the spring hasn't yet arrived. You're right Jack! what you hear is something that, as the days go by, will become a very old story with both of us; only increasing a thousandfold in volume at times."
"Yes, the growl of big guns on the fighting line!" exclaimed Jack in great excitement.
"Just that, and nothing less," his comrade assured him. "But about the time you were listening I was trying to grasp what those two French sergeants over there were saying to each other. It was about the rumble in the air, and they seemed to be drinking it in eagerly; just as a hunting dog might the scent of the deer he was following."
"They look like old hands at the fighting game, Tom. See, one is grizzled, and his face, through exposure, like wrinkled parchment!"
"Watch him walk, and you'll detect a slight limp," cried Tom. "That tells the story! He's been through the mill! It may be he has fought in almost every battle since the war started, and has been wounded many times. You can see the mark of a scar across his left cheek. That has likely been caused by a sabre slash."
