“By Jove!” said Hal.  “I didn’t know there were any British troops in this part of the field.”

“Nor I,” said Chester.  “But what do you suppose all those fellows are laughing at?”

They drew closer.  Coming upon the circle of troops that surrounded a single man, the lads stared in astonishment, and then they, too, broke into a loud laugh.

There, right in the foremost trench and therefore in the more danger from the enemy’s fire, a tall, lank Englishman lay, stretched at full length upon the ground.  His arms were above his head, and he appeared to be resting in perfect comfort, at peace with the world.

But it was something that protruded from the legs of his army trousers that had caused the merriment of the troops gathered about.  The lanky Englishman had removed his puttees and exposed to the view of the astonished Frenchmen two silk-clad feet, and red silk at that.

“Great Scott!” exclaimed Hal.  “Silk socks! and in this weather!”

“Silk socks,” said Chester, “are clearly against the army regulations.”

They approached closer.

Now the lanky Englishman sat up, and apparently unconscious of the gaze of the troops about him, produced a nice leather box, opened it, extracted an instrument, and proceeded to manicure his nails.  He did it coolly and paid no attention whatever to those about him.

“Well!” said Hal.  “What do you think of that?”

“That’s the best I have seen yet,” said Chester, laughing.

The lads pushed through the crowd of curious French soldiers and soon were in the midst of the British.  They approached a sergeant.

“What sort of a freak is this?” asked Hal, indicating the long Englishman.

“By Jove!” exclaimed the sergeant.  “You’re English, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” replied Hal.  “But who is this gentleman with the manicure set?”

The sergeant smiled.

“That,” he said, “is His Lordship.”

“‘His Lordship’?  But what’s his name?”

“Well, I have forgotten his name.  We all call him ‘His Lordship.’”

“But why do you permit all this funny business?”

The sergeant shrugged his shoulders.

“What can I do?” he exclaimed.  “If I forbid one thing he bobs up with something else.  Look at him!  He’s the laziest man I ever saw.  We named him ‘His Lordship’ the moment of his arrival in our midst, and bets were made that he would succumb after the first day’s march.  Not a bit of it!  He looked tired at the start, but he looked no more so at the finish.  We were finally placed in the trenches.  His Lordship did everything ungrudgingly, but he could not sleep without a pillow.  What do you suppose he did?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” said Hal.  “What did he do?”

“Why, he made a bargain with a big fat fellow, who, for four packs of cigarettes a day, agreed to let his lordship use his stomach as a pillow.  He’s lazy, yes, but just the same he’s a fighter.  We began to respect him on the day he laid low sixteen Germans with eighteen cartridges.  He did it as nonchalantly as though he were in a shooting gallery.  But lazy!  Why, he was so lazy he would not brush the perspiration off his forehead.  He asked a neighbor to do it for him!”