I.P.for yours," volunteered another.
Tom knew well enough what R.I.P.

meant.

Often in his lonely night rides through the towns close to the fighting he had seen it on row after row of rough, carved wooden crosses.
"There won't be much _resting in peace_ to-night.

How about it, Toul sector ?" "I didn't feel very sleepy, anyway," said Tom.
He slept upon one of the makeshift straw bunks on the stone floor of the cellar under the cottage.

With the first streak of dawn he arose and went quietly out and sat on a powder keg under a small window, tore several pages out of his pocket blank-book and using his knee for a desk, wrote: "DEAR MARGARET: "Maybe you'll be surprised, kind of, to get a letter from me.