But no more indications of this appeared than if I had been a hairless dog of Mexico, suddenly transplanted to more northern latitudes.

Providence did not seem to be in the tempering-the-wind-to-the-shorn-lamb business, as far as I was concerned.

I still retained an almost unconquerable prejudice against stripping the dead to secure clothes, and so unless exchange or death came speedily, I was in a bad fix.
One morning about day break, Andrews, who had started to go to another part of the camp, came slipping back in a state of gleeful excitement.
At first I thought he either had found a tunnel or had heard some good news about exchange.

It was neither.

He opened his jacket and handed me an infantry man's blouse, which he had found in the main street, where it had dropped out of some fellow's bundle.