But it was only a flitting thought.

The subject did not interest him much.
The sky was turning darker and the heavy flakes of snow fell faster.
John looked up apprehensively.

Snow now troubled him more than guns.

It was no welcome visitor in the trenches where it flooded some of them so badly as it melted that the men were compelled to move.
As he walked along he was hailed by many friendly voices.

He was well known in that part of the gigantic burrow, and the adaptable young American had become a great favorite, not only with the Strangers, but with his French comrades.