“You’re dead right, old chap,” I replied.

“Well, now, this one may be in the other fifty, and I’m thinking she is; and if you should get home before I do, will you look her up and let me know just exactly what you think of her?”

“Why, of course I will.”

“That’s what I wanted, Reg.  You see, God only knows when I may get home, if I ever do, but I don’t want to be nursing ideas about Aileen, and perhaps causing thoughts to arise in her mind, that may never be realized.  You get me, Reg, don’t you?”

“Surest thing, Billy, and you’re damned right and sensible to look at it that way.”

So that when we finally tumbled in, it was long after the witching hour of night.

The dugout we occupied we had built ourselves, and we took great pains to make it as roomy and comfortable as possible; hence the tendency of the fellows to make it their rendezvous.  Our bunks consisted of sandbags spread out on the floor, and the ceremony of retiring occupied about one minute or less.

A half-muffled shriek woke me from a sound sleep and brought me bolt upright in the bunk.  In the blackness I could just discern the outline of a man standing in the middle of the dugout and gulping as if trying to catch his breath.  I jumped up and went to him.  It was Billy.  “What is it, Billy?  What’s the trouble?”

“Oh, Reg,” he gasped, “I have had the most horrible dream!” He was shaking like an aspen.  I put my arm around him and drew him over to my bunk.  “Come, lie down with me, old man, and you will be as right as the rain in a minute.”  He laid down alongside of me and, still shivering, he recounted his dream to me.

“Do you remember that night I was telling you about when I was out observing?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“Where we lost Thompson and the others when the flare went up?  Well, you know that big Prussian I told you about, that came so near getting me?  Do you know that fellow’s face has never been out of my thoughts since I killed him, and I dreamed we were out there on that same spot again, and again the flare went up and we were rushed, and who should come at me but this man I had killed.  I shrieked:  ’You’re dead!  I killed you once.  Get to hell out of here!’ But he only gave a ghoulish grin and came at me.  I dodged his blow and ran my bayonet through him, as I thought, but there he was coming at me again.  Again I dodged and plunged into him, and again he was coming.  Suddenly all power left me; my hands, arms and legs became nerveless, and I stood rooted; he clubbed his rifle, and as it crashed on my skull I awoke, and that must have been the time I cried out.  And, Reg, just as sure as I am lying here, my number is up.  I am as good as dead, I tell you.”

“Now, don’t talk such utter damn nonsense, Billy,” I said, doing my utmost to comfort him.

“No damn nonsense about it.  You know yourself we started out yesterday with thirteen men and Lawrence got it, and here tonight every letter we got was postmarked the thirteenth, and I just can’t get it out of my nut, and I am not going to try any further.”