“‘I’ll go with you,’ I said, ’as far as the Pendu farm—­they’re not short of room in that shop.  You’ll snore in there all right, and you can start at daybreak.’

“‘Right! let’s get a move on so far.’

“We went out again.  What a downpour!  We were wet past bearing.  The water poured into our socks through the boot-soles and by the trouser bottoms, and they too were soaked through and through up to the knees.  Before we got to this Pendu, we meet a shadow in a big black cloak, with a lantern.  The lantern is raised, and we see a gold stripe on the sleeve, and then an angry face.

“‘What the hell are you doing there?’ says the shadow, drawing back a little and putting one fist on his hip, while the rain rattled like hail on his hood.

“’They’re men on leave for Vauvelles—­they can’t set off again to-night—­they would like to sleep in the Pendu farm.’

“’What do you say?  Sleep here?—­This is the police station—­I am the officer on guard and there are Boche prisoners in the buildings.’  And I’ll tell you what he said as well—­’I must see you hop it from here in less than two seconds.  Bonsoir.’

“So we right about face and started back again—­stumbling as if we were boozed, slipping, puffing, splashing and bespattering ourselves.  One of the boys cried to me through the wind and rain, ’We’ll go back with you as far as your home, all the same.  If we haven’t a house we’ve time enough.’

“‘Where will you sleep?’

“’Oh, we’ll find somewhere, don’t worry, for the little time we have to kill here.’

“‘Yes, we’ll find somewhere, all right,’ I said.  ’Come in again for a minute meanwhile—­I won’t take no—­and Mariette sees us enter once more in single file, all five of us soaked like bread in soup.

“So there we all were, with only one little room to go round in and go round again—­the only room in the house, seeing that it isn’t a palace.

“‘Tell me, madame,’ says one of our friends, ’isn’t there a cellar here?’

“‘There’s water in it,’ says Mariette; ’you can’t see the bottom step and it’s only got two.’

“‘Damn,’ says the man, ‘for I see there’s no loft, either.’

“After a minute or two he gets up:  ‘Good-night, old pal,’ he says to me, and they get their hats on.

“‘What, are you going off in weather like this, boys?’

“‘Do you think,’ says the old sport, ’that we’re going to spoil your stay with your wife?’

“‘But, my good man—­’

“’But me no buts.  It’s nine o’clock, and you’ve got to take your hook before day.  So good-night.  Coming, you others?’

“‘Rather,’ say the boys.  ‘Good-night all.’

“There they are at the door and opening it.  Mariette and me, we look at each other—­but we don’t move.  Once more we look at each other, and then we sprang at them.  I grabbed the skirt of a coat and she a belt—­all wet enough to wring out.