“When do we start?  What are we waiting for?” demanded Pilzer.  “I want to be in the thick of the fighting and not trailing along with the reserves!” If any one in the 128th wins the bronze cross he means that it shall be he and not Eugene Aronson.

“Never mind, you’ll have a chance.  There’ll be war enough to go around, I am sure!” said Hugo Mallin.

“More than you’ll want!” Pilzer shot back, thrusting out his jaw.

“I’m sure of that!” answered Hugo, the mask of his face drawn in quizzical solemnity.  “I don’t want any at all.”

This brought a tremendous laugh.  All the laughs had been tremendous since mobilization had begun in earnest, and the atmosphere was like the suspense before a thunder-storm breaks.

On Saturday evening the 128th was mustered in field accoutrements and a full supply of cartridges.  In the darkness the first battalion marched out at right angles to the main road that ran through La Tir and South La Tir.  At length Company B, deployed in line of skirmishers, lay down to sleep on its arms.

“We wait here for the word,” Fracasse, the captain, whispered to his senior lieutenant.  “If it comes, our objective is the house and the old castle on the hill above the town.”

The tower of the church showed dimly when a pale moon broke through a cloud.  By its light Hugo saw on his right Eugene’s big features and massive shoulders and on his left the pinched and characterless features of Peterkin.  A few yards ahead was a white stone post.

“That’s their side over there!” whispered the banker’s son, who was next to Peterkin.

“When we cross war begins,” said the manufacturer’s son.

“I wonder if they are expecting us!” said the judge’s son a trifle huskily, in an attempt at humor, though he was not given to humor.

“Just waiting to throw bouquets!” whispered the laborer’s son.  He, too, was not given to humor and he, too, spoke a trifle huskily.

“And we’ll fix bayonets when we start and they will run at the sight of our steel!” said Eugene Aronson.  He and Hugo alone, not excepting Pilzer, the butcher’s son, spoke in their natural voices.  The others were trying to make their voices sound natural, while Pilzer’s voice had developed a certain ferocity, and the liver patch on his cheek twitched more frequently.  “Why, Company B is in front!  We have the post of honor, and maybe our company will win the most glory of any in the regiment!” Eugene added.  “Oh, we’ll beat them!  The bullet is not made that will get me!”

“Your service will be over in time for you to help with the spring planting, Eugene,” whispered Hugo, who was apparently preoccupied with many detached thoughts.

“And you to be at home sucking lollipops!” Pilzer growled to Hugo.

“That would be better than murdering my fellowman to get his property,” Hugo answered, so soberly that it did not seem to his comrades that he was joking this time.  Pilzer’s snarling exclamation of “White feather!” came in the midst of a chorus of indignation.