In twenty minutes the coffee was ready.

"How is it?" he inquired anxiously, handing a mess tin full to one of his men.

The boy tasted it.

"Like mother made," he said, with a grin. "Gee, but it's good."

At that moment the doctor appeared at the cellar door.

"I say, old chap," he said, "there will be a riot here in fifteen minutes. That coffee smells the whole camp."

"Bring 'em along, doc. The sick chaps first. By Jove, here's the sergeant major himself."

"What's all this?" inquired the sergeant major in his gruffest voice.

"Who's responsible for this fire?"

"Coffee, sergeant major?" answered Barry, handing him a tin full.

"But what--?"

"Drink it first, sergeant major."

The sergeant major took the mess tin and tasted the coffee.

"Well, this IS fine," he declared, "and it's what the boys want. But this fire is against orders, sir. I ought to have it put out."

"You will have it put out over my dead body, sergeant major," cried the M. O.

"And mine," added Barry.

"By gad, we'll chance the zeps, sir," said the sergeant major. "This freezin' rain will kill more men than a bomb. Bring in your men, sir,"

he added to the M. O. "But I must see the O. C."

The sergeant major's devotion to military discipline was struggling hard with his humanity, which, under his rugged exterior, beat warm in his heart.

"Why bother with the O. C.?" said the M. D.

"But I must see him," insisted the sergeant major.

He had not far to go to attain his purpose.

"Hello! What the devil is this?" exclaimed a loud voice at the door.

"By gad, it's the old man himself," muttered the M. O. to Barry. "Now look out for ructions."

In came the O. C., followed by a brass hat. Barry went forward with a steaming tin of coffee.

"Sorry our china hasn't arrived yet, sir," he said cheerfully, "but the coffee isn't bad, the boys say."

"Why, it's you, Dunbar," said the colonel, peering into his face, and shaking the rain drops from his coat. "I might have guessed that you'd be in it. Where there's any trouble," he continued, turning to the brass hat at his side, "you may be quite sure that the Pilot or the M. O. here will be in it. By Jove, this coffee goes to the right spot. Have a cup, major?" he said as Barry brought a second tin.

"It's against regulations, you know," said the major, taking the mess tin gingerly. "Fires are quite forbidden. Air raids, and that sort of thing, don't you know."

"Oh, hang it all, major," cried the O. C. "The coffee is fine, and my men will be a lot better for it. This camp of yours, anyway, is no place for human beings, and especially for men straight off the boat. As for me, I'm devilish glad to get this coffee. Give me another tin, Pilot."

"It's quite irregular," murmured the major, still drinking his coffee.

"It's quite irregular! But I see the door is fairly well guarded against light, and perhaps--"

"I think we'll just carry on," said the colonel. "If there is any trouble, I'll assume the responsibility for it. Thank you, Pilot. Just keep guard on the light here, sergeant major."

"All right, sir. Very good, sir, we will hang up a blanket."

Meanwhile the news had spread throughout the camp, and before many minutes had passed the cellar was jammed with a crowd of men that reached through the door and out into the night. The crowd was becoming noisy and there was danger of confusion. Then the pilot climbed up on a heap of rubbish and made a little speech.

"Men," he called out, "this coffee is intended first of all for the sick men in this battalion. Those sick men must first be cared for. After that we shall distribute the coffee as far as it will go. There is plenty of water outside, and I think I have plenty of coffee. Sergeant major, I suggest that you round up these men in some sort of order."

A few sharp words of command from the sergeant major brought order out of confusion, and for two hours there filed through the cellar a continuous stream of men, each bringing an empty mess tin, and carrying it away full of hot and fragrant coffee.

By the time the men had been supplied the officers were finished with their duties, and having got word of the Pilot's coffee stall, came crowding in. One and all they were vociferous in their praise of the chaplain, voting him a "good fellow" and a "life-saver" of the highest order. But it was felt by all that Corporal Thom expressed the general consensus of opinion to his friend Timms. "That Pilot of ours," he declared, "runs a little to the narrow gauge, but in that last round up he was telling us about last Sunday there won't be the goat run for him.

It's him for the baa baas, sure enough."

And though in the vernacular the corporal's words did not sound quite reverent, it was agreed that they expressed in an entirely satisfactory manner the general opinion of the battalion.

An hour later, wearied as he was, Barry crawled into his icy blankets, but with a warmer feeling in his heart than he had known since he joined the battalion. But before he had gone to sleep, there came into his mind a thought that brought him up wide awake. He had quite forgotten all about his duty as chaplain. "What a chance you had there," insisted his chaplain's conscience, "for a word that would really hearten your men.

This is their first night in France. To-morrow they march up to danger and death. What a chance! And you missed it."

Barry was too weary to discuss the matter further, but as he fell asleep he said to himself, "At any rate, the boys are feeling a lot better,"

and in spite of his sense of failure, that thought brought him no small comfort.

CHAPTER XI

THE NEW MESSAGE

"I think," said Barry, to the M. O., "I really ought to ride down to the R. A. M. C. hospital, and tell them how the boys enjoyed the coffee last night." His face was slightly flushed, but the flush might have been due to the fact that he had been busily engaged in tying up the thongs of his bed-roll, an awkward job at times.

"Sure thing," agreed the M. O. heartily. "Indeed it's absolutely essential, and say, old chap, you might tell her how I enjoyed my coffee. She will be glad to hear about me."

Barry heaved his bed-roll at the doctor and departed.

At the R. A. M. C. Hospital the Officer Commanding, to whom he had sent in his card, gave him a cordial greeting.

"I am glad to know you, sir. We have quite a lot of your chaps here now and then, and fine fellows they seem to be. We expect a hospital train this morning, and I understand there are some Canadians among them.

Rather a bad go a few days ago at St. Eloi. Heavy casualty list.

Clearing stations all crowded, and so they are sending a lot down the line."