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| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-09 20:48:36 -0800 |
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| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-09 20:48:36 -0800 |
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diff --git a/59900-h/59900-h.htm b/59900-h/59900-h.htm index e94717a..164becc 100644 --- a/59900-h/59900-h.htm +++ b/59900-h/59900-h.htm @@ -99,39 +99,7 @@ p.quote {text-indent: 4% ; <body> -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mudlarks, by Crosbie Garstin - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Mudlarks - -Author: Crosbie Garstin - -Release Date: July 10, 2019 [EBook #59900] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MUDLARKS *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines - - - - - -</pre> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 59900 ***</div> <h1> @@ -3741,5526 +3709,7 @@ read his card. It ran as follows: </p> -<pre> - OUR HEROES' SUPPLY DEPT. - - Look the part and have your war-yarns believed at home. - Put yourselves in our hands and then watch the girls gather - round. - - LIST OF CHARGES - - Mud-spray (patent mud guaranteed to stick for five days) 1s. - Bullet-holes (punched in cap or tunic) 3d. each. - Blood-stains (indelible) 6d. - Prayer-book (with embedded bullet) 2s. 6. - - We have also a large stock of souvenirs—shell fragments, - bullets, German caps, helmets, etc., at moderate charges. - Call and see us right now. Depot just round the block. -</pre> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -The sixteenth file looked at his chum, fingering his -card uneasily. "Well, Bob, what d'you say? My -lassie is won'erful 'ard to convince." -</p> - -<p> -"I'm with you," said his friend. "Mother is a fair terror too." -</p> - -<p> -They tramped after the little man. -</p> - -<p> -A quarter of an hour later they might have been seen -tramping back down Victoria Street looking like -nothing on earth. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap17"></a></p> - -<h3> -XVII -<br /><br /> -THE PINCH OF WAR -</h3> - -<p> -I came across him on the rim of the bog. He stood -before a whitewashed cabin glaring fiercely over the -brown world. -</p> - -<p> -A coal-black dudeen hung empty and bottom up from -his puckered mouth, a rumpled frieze cap was perilously -balanced atop of a fringe of white hair. His full figure, -upholstered in a worn velvet waistcoat, was thrust well -forward as if daring Fate to hit it another blow. -</p> - -<p> -At the moment he was acting as a scratching-post to -a large white billy-goat, which chafed itself luxuriously -to and fro against his straddled legs. At the sound of -my horse's hoofs he turned his head. At the sight of -my uniform his eyes brightened, he withdrew a smutty -hand from a corduroy pocket and made a travesty of a -salute towards his cap, which almost lost its balance. -</p> - -<p> -"Hey! Good day to ye, Captain!" (I am a second -lieutenant, but in Ireland every lance-corporal has -visionary batons on his shoulder-straps.) -</p> - -<p> -I replied suitably, agreed that the weather was fine -for the second and trusted, if we were good, we might -have an hour of it. -</p> - -<p> -"How is it wid the War this mornin', yer honour?" -</p> - -<p> -I replied that, as far as I knew, it was still there, -had passed a quiet night and was doing nicely, thanks. -</p> - -<p> -"Was you ever at the Front, Captain?" -</p> - -<p> -I nodded, and at that his eyes gleamed. -</p> - -<p> -"Begob!—then 'tis yerself has the luck. Wait till I -tell you a minute. I'm afther wishin' be all the Blessed -Saints I was twinty year younger, 'tis meself would be -the first afther them German Daygoes—I would so, the -dirthy, desthroyin' blagyards! Tell me now, Captain -dear, did you ever kill wan of them at all?" -</p> - -<p> -He hung on my answer to such an extent that the -white billy tore a tatter from his canvas coat and ate -it unrebuked. -</p> - -<p> -I wagged my head. "Don't know—couldn't say." -</p> - -<p> -"Och, shure, no! What would a grand gentleman -like yourself be wantin' wid such dirthy work—'tis a -common private's job, so it is. But was meself twinty -year younger 'twould be a job I would take great delight -in the doin' of it. I would take great delight in landin' -wan o' them blagyards a puck wid a bay'net that would -let the daylight through him. I would have great -courage an' delight in a war wid such as they be, that's -the blessed truth, the dirthy, desthroyin', murdherin' -divils! Arragh! I hate them!" -</p> - -<p> -He shook a grimy fist in the general direction of -America, and the billy, undisturbed, reached up and -ate another ribbon off his coat. -</p> - -<p> -"Beggin' yer pardon, but will yer honour be goin' -back to the War?" -</p> - -<p> -I said I hoped so some day. -</p> - -<p> -"Listen, then—I'm wishin' ye would kill a German, -two Germans, d'ye hear me now? Two Germans I'm -afther wishin' ye." -</p> - -<p> -Again he brandished a trembling fist aloft and again -the billy, fearing naught, grazed its way up his back. -</p> - -<p> -"Thanks, very good of you," said I. "I'll remember. -Good day." -</p> - -<p> -"Good day it is, an' God save yer honour!" -</p> - -<p> -Then with an overwhelming burst of generosity he -promoted me two ranks at once and wished again. -</p> - -<p> -"Colonel," he said solemnly, though shaking with -passion, "I'm afther wishin' ye three—ten—<i>fifteen</i> -Germans!" -</p> - -<p> -"Thanks," I said again, and picked up the reins, -wondering if tragedy had shadowed the bogside that -morning, if some grey-eyed, black-haired boy would -come home no more from Flanders to that whitewashed -cabin. -</p> - -<p> -As I turned a beshawled girl poked her head round -the door lintel and smiled at me. -</p> - -<p> -"Och, faith, don't be noticin' the granda', yer -honour; himself was beyond to the town this mornin', an' -they've riz the price o' porther on him wan ha'penny. -He do be as mad as the Sivinteen Divils!" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap18"></a></p> - -<h3> -XVIII -<br /><br /> -THE REGIMENTAL MASCOT -</h3> - -<p> -When his honour the Colonel took the owld -rigiment to France, Herself came home bringin' the -rigimental mascot with her. A big white long-haired -billy-goat he was, the same. -</p> - -<p> -"I'll not be afther lavin' him at the daypo," says -Herself; "'tis no place for a domestic animal at all, -the language them little drummer-boys uses, the dear -knows," says she. -</p> - -<p> -So me bowld mascot he stops up at the Castle and -makes free with the flower-beds and the hall and the -drawin'-room and the domestic maids the way he'd be -the Lord-Lieutenant o' the land, and not jist a plain -human Angory goat. A proud arrygent crature it is, -be the powers! Steppin' about as disdainy as a Dublin -gerrl in Ballydehob, and if, mebbe, you'd address him -for to get off your flower-beds with the colour of anger -in your mouth he'd let a roar out of him like a Sligo -piper with poteen taken, and fetch you a skelp with -his horns that would lay you out for dead. -</p> - -<p> -And sorra the use is it of complainin' to Herself. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, Delaney, 'tis the marshal sperit widin him," -she'd say; "we must be patient with him for the sake -of the owld rigiment"; and with that she'd start -hand-feedin' him with warmed-up sponge cake and playin' -with his long silky hair. -</p> - -<p> -"Far be it from me," I says to Mikeen, the herd, "to -question the workings o' Providence, but were I the -Colonel of a rigiment, which I am not, and had to have -a mascot, it's not a raparee billy I'd be afther havin', -but a nanny, or mebbe a cow, that would step along -dacently with the rigiment and bring ye luck, and mebbe -a dropeen o' milk for the orficers' tea as well. If it's -such cratures that bring ye fortune may I die a peaceful -death in a poor-house," says I. -</p> - -<p> -"I'm wid ye," says Mikeen, groanin', he bein' spotted -like a leopard with bruises by rason of him havin' to -comb the mascot's silky hair twice daily, and the quick -temper of the baste at the tangles. -</p> - -<p> -The long of a summer the billy stops up at the Castle, -archin' his neck at the wurrld and growin' prouder and -prouder by dint of the standin' he had with the owld -rigiment and the high feedin' he had from Herself. -Faith, 'tis a great delight we servints had of him I'm -tellin' ye! It was as much as your life's blood was -worth to cross his path in the garden, and if the domestic -maids would be meetin' him in the house they'd let him -eat the dresses off them before they dare say a word. -</p> - -<p> -In the autumn me bowld mascot gets a wee trifle -powerful by dint o' the high feedin' and the natural -nature of the crature. Herself, wid her iligant lady's -nose, is afther noticin' it, and she sends wan o' the -gerrls to tell meself and Mikeen to wash the baste. -</p> - -<p> -"There will be murdher done this day," says I to the -lad, "but 'tis the orders. Go get the cart rope and the -chain off the bulldog, and we'll do it. Faith, it isn't all -the bravery that's at the Front," says I. -</p> - -<p> -"That's the true wurrd," says he, rubbin' the lumps -on his shins, the poor boy. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, Delaney," says the domestic gerrl, drawin' a -bottle from her apron pocket. "Herself says will ye -plaze be so obligin' as to sprinkle the mascot wid a -dropeen of this ody-koloney scent—mebbe it will quench -his powerfulness, she says." -</p> - -<p> -I put the bottle in me pocket. We tripped up me -brave goat with the rope, got the bull's collar and chain, -and dragged him away towards the pond, him buckin' -and ragin' between us like a Tyrone Street lady in the -arms of the poliss. To hear the roars he let out of -him would turn your hearts cowld as lead, but we held -on. -</p> - -<p> -The Saints were wid us; in half an hour we had him -as wet as an eel, and broke the bottle of ody-koloney -over his back. -</p> - -<p> -He was clane mad. "God save us all when he gets -that chain off him!" I says. "God save us it is!" says -Mikeen, looking around for a tree to shin. -</p> - -<p> -Just at the minut we heard a great screechin' o' dogs, -and through the fence comes the harrier pack that the -Reserve orficers kept in the camp beyond. ("Harriers" -they called them, but, begob! there wasn't anythin' -they wouldn't hunt from a fox to a turkey, those -ones.) -</p> - -<p> -"What are they afther chasin'?" says Mikeen. -</p> - -<p> -"'Tis a stag to-day, be the newspapers," I says, "but -the dear knows they'll not cotch him this month, be -must be gone by this half-hour, and the breath is from -them, their tongues is hangin' out a yard," I says. -</p> - -<p> -'Twas at that moment the Blessed Saints gave me -wisdom. -</p> - -<p> -"Mikeen," I says, "drag the mascot out before them; -we'll see sport this day." -</p> - -<p> -"Herself——" he begins. -</p> - -<p> -"Hoult your whisht," says I, "and come on." With -that we dragged me bowld goat out before the dogs and -let go the chain. -</p> - -<p> -The dogs sniffed up the strong blast of ody-koloney -and let a yowl out of them like all the banshees in the -nation of Ireland, and the billy legged it for his -life—small blame to him! -</p> - -<p> -Meself and Mikeen climbed a double to see the sport. -</p> - -<p> -"They have him," says Mikeen. "They have not," -says I; "the crature howlds them by two lengths." -</p> - -<p> -"He has doubled on them," says Mikeen; "he is as -sly as a Jew." -</p> - -<p> -"He is forninst the rabbit holes now," I says. "I -thank the howly Saints he cannot burrow." -</p> - -<p> -"He has tripped up—they have him bayed," says -Mikeen. -</p> - -<p> -And that was the mortal truth, the dogs had him. -</p> - -<p> -Oh, but it was a bowld billy! He went in among -those hounds like a lad to a fair, you could hear his -horns lambastin' their ribs a mile away. But they -were too many for him and bit the grand silky hair off -him by the mouthful. The way it flew you'd think it -was a snowstorm. -</p> - -<p> -"They have him desthroyed," says Mikeen. -</p> - -<p> -"They have," says I, "God be praised!" -</p> - -<p> -At the moment the huntsman leps his harse up on -the double beside us; he was phlastered with muck from -his hair to his boots. -</p> - -<p> -"What have they out there?" says he, blinkin' -through the mud and not knowin' rightly what his -hounds were coursin' out before him, whether it would -be a stag or a Bengal tiger. -</p> - -<p> -"'Tis her ladyship's Rile Imperial Mascot Goat," -says I; "an' God save your honour, for she'll have -your blood in a bottle for this day's worrk." -</p> - -<p> -The huntsman lets a curse out of his stummick and -rides afther them, flat on his saddle, both spurs tearin'. -In the wink of an eye he is down among the dogs, -larrupin' them with his whip and drawin' down curses on -them that would wither ye to hear him—he had great -eddication, that orficer. -</p> - -<p> -"Come now," says I to Mikeen, the poor lad, "let -you and me bear the cowld corpse of the diseased back -to Herself, mebbe she'll have a shillin' handy in her -hand, the way she'd reward us for saving the body -from the dogs," says I. -</p> - -<p> -But was me bowld mascot dead? He was not. He -was alive and well, the thickness of his wool had saved -him. For all that he had not a hair of it left to him, -and when he stood up before you, you wouldn't know -him; he was that ordinary without his fleece, he was -no more than a common poor man's goat, he was no more -to look at than a skinned rabbit, and that's the truth. -</p> - -<p> -He walked home with meself and Mikeen as meek as -a young gerrl. -</p> - -<p> -Herself came runnin' out, all fluttery, to look at him. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, but that's not my mascot," she says. -</p> - -<p> -"It is, Marm," says I; and I swore to it by the whole -Calendar—Mikeen too. -</p> - -<p> -"Bah! how disgustin'. Take it to the cowhouse," -says she, and stepped indoors without another word. -</p> - -<p> -We led the billy away, him hangin' his head for -shame at his nakedness. -</p> - -<p> -"Ye'll do no more mascotin' avic," says I to him. -"Sorra luck you would bring to a blind beggar-man the -way you are now—you'll never step along again with -the drums and tambourines." -</p> - -<p> -And that was the true word, for though Herself had -Mikeen rubbing him daily with bear's grease and hair -lotion he never grew the same grand fleece again, and -he'd stand about in the backfield, brooding for hours -together, the divilment clane gone out of his system; and -if, mebbe, you'd draw the stroke of an ash-plant across -his ribs to hearten him, he'd only just look at you, -sad-like and pass no remarks. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap19"></a></p> - -<h3> -XIX -<br /><br /> -WAR VEGETATION -</h3> - -<p> -'Tis her ladyship up at the Castle that has the War -at heart; 'tis no laughin' matter wid her. -</p> - -<p> -She came back from England wid the grandest modern -notions for conductin' the war in the home that ever -ye'd see, an' a foreign domestic maid she had hired in -London. -</p> - -<p> -"'Tis a poor Belgium refuge she is, Delaney," says -Herself to meself. "In the home she is afther lavin' -there is nothing left standin' but the wine-cellar, an' -that full o' German Huns—she is wet wid weepin' yet," -says Herself; "so be kind to her, for we must help -our brave Allies." -</p> - -<p> -So the Belgium refuge walks into the Castle an' becomes -lady's maid. A fine, upstandin' colleen it is, too, -by the same token, wid notions in dhress that turned all -the counthry gurrls contemptjous wid envy, an' a hat -on the head of her that was like a conservatory for the -flowers that was in it. But did Herself's war work -stop at adoptin' our brave Alice? It did not. She gave -the young ladies of the high nobility a powerful organisin', -an' they'd be in at Ballydrogeen every day o' the -week sellin' Frinch, Eyetalian, Rooshan, an' Japan flags -an' makin' a mint o' money at it. The lads that would -be comin' into Ballydrogeen Fair to do a bit of hand -slappin' over a pig, an' mebbe taste a tageen wid the -luckpenny, would dishcover themselves goin' home in -the ass cart, pig an' all, sober as stones an' plasthered -thick wid flags the way you'd think they'd be the winnin' -boat at Galway Regatta. For 'tis a bould bouchal will -stand up to the young ladies of the high nobility whin -they have their best dhresses on an' do be prancin' up -to ye, the smiles an' blarney dhrippin' from them like -golden syrup, wid their "Oh, Mickey, how is your dear -darlint baby? Have ye not the least little shillin' for -me, thin?" or their "Good day to ye, Terry Ryan; -I'm all in love wid that bay colt ye have, an' I will -plague my Da into his grave until he buys him for me. -Will ye not have a small triflin' flag from me, Terry -Ryan?" -</p> - -<p> -But did Herself's war work stop at flag selling? It -did not. Wan mornin' she comes steppin' down the -garden as elegant as a champion hackney, holdin' her -skirts high out of the wet. -</p> - -<p> -"Is that you, Delaney?" says she. -</p> - -<p> -"It is, your ladyship," says I, crawlin' out from -behindt the swate pays. -</p> - -<p> -"Listen to me," says she. "Thim flowers is nothin' -but a luxury these days. I'll have nothin' but war -vigitables in my garden." -</p> - -<p> -Says I, "Beggin' your pardon, but phwat may they -be?" She was puzzled for a moment, an' stands there -scratchin' her ear as ye might say. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, jist ordinary vigitables, only grown under war -conditions," says she at length. "At anny rate I'll have -no flowers, so desthroy thim entirely, an' grow vigitables -in their place—d'you understand?" says she. -</p> - -<p> -"I do, your ladyship," says I. -</p> - -<p> -I wint within to tell Anne Toher, the cook. "Herself -is for desthroyin' the flowers entirely, an' plantin' war -vigitables," says I. -</p> - -<p> -"An' phwat may they be?" says the woman. -</p> - -<p> -"The same as ordinary vigitables, only growed under -war conditions," says I. "Ivvry spud doin' its duty, -ivvry parsnip strugglin' to be two. We will have carrots -an' onions in iwry bed up to the front door, Frinch -beans trained all over the porch. Ye'll jist lane out -of the kitchen winda an' gather in the dinner yourself; -'twill be a great savin' o' labour," says I. -</p> - -<p> -"An' phwat'll ye do for the table decorations whin -the gintry comes callin'?" says Anne Toher. -</p> - -<p> -"Faith," says I, "'tis aisy done; I will jist set a -bookay o' hothouse cabbages in the vases, an' if, mebbe, -the Colonel would be comin' home on lave an' should -ax a nosegay to stick in his coat, begob I'll have a fine -sprig of parsley for him," says I. -</p> - -<p> -"Ye poor man," says she, "'twill sour the heart -within ye." Ah! That was the true word, 'twas like -pullin' me heart's blood out be the roots to desthroy thim -flowers; but it had to be done. War is war. -</p> - -<p> -By June the garden was nothin' but a say of vigitables, -an' divil a touch of colour to take your eye was -there in it, no matter how long you'd look. -</p> - -<p> -Wan day I am up at the yard, seein' if, mebbe, Anne -Toher would have the taste o' tay in the pot, meself -havin' a thirst on me that would face the Shannon by -dint of the hoein' I was afther doin' in the spud -plantations, whin the woman puts her head out of the kitchen -winda. "Whist, Delaney," says she, "there's gintry to -lunch," says she. -</p> - -<p> -"Phwat gintry?" says I. -</p> - -<p> -"Sir Patrick Freebody, o' Michaelstown," says she, -an' at that me blood run cowld. -</p> - -<p> -Sir Patrick Freebody had the grandest garden over -at Michaelstown that ivver you'd see in the nation of -Ireland, an' a cousin to me, John O'Callaghan, was -gardener to him. There was no love betwane us either, -by the same token. I would as soon wake John O'Callaghan -as I would the Divil, an' that's the morthal truth, -for all that he was a cousin to me. -</p> - -<p> -I knew how 'twould be as sure as I was alive in this -worrld. Owld Sir Pat would be into lunch before a -bare board, an' whin he wint home to Michaelstown he -would be tellin' John O'Callaghan, an' I would be -skinned raw wid the jeerin' an' blaggardin' the same -John O'Callaghan would have wid me. -</p> - -<p> -"Whisper, whin will they be atein'?" says I to -Anne Toher. -</p> - -<p> -"In ten minutes, please God, an' the spuds are soft," -says she. -</p> - -<p> -"Begob," says I to meself, "I'll set flowers on -that table or cut my throat across," an' I ran away, not -knowin' where I'd be findin' thim, not within five miles. -But I was not half-way round the laurel bushes whin -the Blessed Saints sent me light. -</p> - -<p> -In sivin minuites I had flowers in the middle bowl, -an' backed away behindt the hat-racks as Herself an' -owld Sir Pat comes out of the drawin'-room an' goes -in to lunch. I set me eye to the kayhole and watched, -me heart like water betwane me teeth. -</p> - -<p> -Owld Sir Pat, he mumbles an' coughs an' talks about -the weather, an' the war, an' the recruitin'. -</p> - -<p> -Herself she talks about the soldiers' shest-protectors -an' her war work, an' how she was scared the Colonel -was sittin' about at the Front wid wet fate. -</p> - -<p> -Presently the owld man notices the flowers in the -bowl an' lanes over the table blinkin' at thim through -his spectacles in his half-blind way. -</p> - -<p> -"Lovely flowers ye have there, Lady Nugent, positive -blaze o' colour. How do you do it? Now, that scamp -of a gardener of mine——" He sits back again, tellin' -Herself how John O'Callaghan had left his chrysanthemums -go to ruination wid blight. Her Ladyship takes -wan look at the flowers, her eyebrows go up, she turns -as red as a bateroot and bites her lip, but says nothin'. -God bless her! I backed away, breathin' aisy once more, -but at that minuite down the stairs comes our brave -Alice, the Belgium refuge, all of a lather, gabbing like -a turkey in the foreign tongue, and runs straight for -the dinin'-room door. -</p> - -<p> -'Tis a mercy I have the quick wit; I pulled down the -Colonel's dhress-sword from where it hung on the wall -and headed her off, wavin' it at her the way I'd draw -the stroke of it across her windpipe. She wint leppin' -back up the stairs like a mountainy hare among the -rocks, thinkin', mebbe, the German Huns was come at -her again out of the wine-cellar. -</p> - -<p> -An hour later I heard owld Sir Pat's car lavin' the -front door, so I sheathed me sword an' let her out of her -bedroom where she had herself locked in. -</p> - -<p> -A strong shindy the gurrl raised, an' Herself forced -me to buy her a new hat out of me wages, seein' that -her owld wan was desthroyed by dint of the soakin' an' -crushin' it had in the flower bowl; but sorra the bit did -I care, for I passed John O'Callaghan beyond in -Michaelstown on Sunday, an' divil a word said he, but -scowled at me in a way that did my heart good to see. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap20"></a></p> - -<h3> -XX -<br /><br /> -A CHANGE OF FRONT -</h3> - -<p> -We fell asleep with goose feathers of snow whirling -against the carriage windows, and woke to see -a shot-silk sea flinging white lace along a fairy coast on -one side and pink and yellow villas nesting among groves -of palm and orange on the other. -</p> - -<p> -"Of course this sort of thing doesn't happen in real -life," said Albert Edward, flattening his proboscis -against the pane. "Either it's all a dream or else those -oranges will suddenly light up; George Grossmith, in -a topper and spats, will trip in from the O.P. side; -girls will blossom from every palm, and all ranks get -busy with song and prance—tra-la-la!" -</p> - -<p> -The Babe kicked his blankets off and sat up. "Nothing -of the sort. We've arrived in well-known Italy, -that's all. Capital—Rome. Exports—old masters, -chianti and barrel-organs. Faces South and is centrally -heated by Vesuvius." -</p> - -<p> -We rattled into a cutting, the sides of which were -decorated with posters: "Good Healt at the England," -"Good Luck at Tommy," and drew up in a flag-festooned -station, on the platform of which was a deputation -of smiling signorinas who presented the Atkinses -with postcards, fruit and cigarettes, and ourselves with -flowers. -</p> - -<p> -"Very <i>bon</i>—eh, what?" said the Babe as the train -resumed its rumblings. "All the same I wish we could -thank them prettily and tell them how pleased we are -we've come. Does anybody handle the patter?" -</p> - -<p> -Albert Edward thought he did. "Used to swot up -a lot of Italian literature when I was a lad; technical -military stuff about the divisions of Gaul by one -J. Cæsar." -</p> - -<p> -"Too technical for everyday use," I objected. "A -person called D'Annunzio is their best seller now, I -believe." -</p> - -<p> -"Somebody'd better hop off the bus at the next -stop and buy a book of the words," said the Babe. -</p> - -<p> -At the next halt I dodged the deputation and -purchased a phrase-book with a Union Jack on the cover, -entitled <i>The English Soldier in Italy</i>, published in -Milan. -</p> - -<p> -Among military terms, grouped under the heading -of "The Worldly War," a <i>garetta</i> (sentry-box) is -defined as "a watchbox," and the machine-gunner will be -surprised to find himself described as "a -grapeshot-man." It has also short conversations for current -use. -</p> - -<p> -"Have you of any English papers?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, sir, there's <i>The Times</i> and <i>Tit-Bits</i>." -</p> - -<p> -(Is it possible that the land of Virgil, of Horace and -Dante knows not <i>The Daily Mail</i>?) -</p> - -<p> -"Give me, please, many biscuits." -</p> - -<p> -"No, sir, we have no biscuits; the fabrication of -them has been avoided by Government." -</p> - -<p> -"Waiter, show me a good bed where one may sleep -undisturbated." -</p> - -<p> -<i>In the train</i>:— -</p> - -<p> -"Dickens! I have lost my ticket." -</p> - -<p> -"Alas, you shall pay the price of another." -</p> - -<p> -A jocular vein is recommended with cabbies:— -</p> - -<p> -"Coachman, are you free?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Then long live liberty." -</p> - -<p> -Very young subalterns with romantic notions may -waste good beer-money on foreign phrase-books and get -themselves enravelled in hopeless international tangles, -but not old Atkins. The English soldier in Italy will -speak what he has always spoken with complete success -in Poperinghe, Amiens, Cairo, Salonika, Dar-es-Salaam, -Bagdad and Jerusalem, to wit, English. -</p> - -<p> -But to return to our train. At nightfall we left the -fairy coast behind, its smiling <i>signorinas</i>, flags, flowers -and fruit, and swarmed up a pile of perpendicular -scenery from summer to winter. During a halt in the -midst of moonlit snows our carriage door was opened -and we beheld outside an Italian officer, who saluted and -gave us an exhibition of his native tongue at rapid fire. -</p> - -<p> -"He's referring to us," said the Babe. "Answer -him, somebody; tell him we're on his side and all that." -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Viva l' Italia</i>," William exclaimed promptly. -</p> - -<p> -The Italian countered with a "Viva l'Inghilterra" -and swept on with his monologue. -</p> - -<p> -"Seems to want something," said Albert Edward. -"Wonder if Cæsar is too technical for him." -</p> - -<p> -"Read him something from <i>The English Soldier in -Italy</i>," I suggested. -</p> - -<p> -The Babe thumbed feverishly through the handbook. -"'Let us get in; the guard has already cried'—No, -that won't do. 'Give me a walk and return ticket, -please'—That won't do either. 'Yes, I have a trunk -and a carpet-bag'—Oh, this is absurd." He cast the -book from him. -</p> - -<p> -At that moment the engine hooted, the trucks gave a -preliminary buck and started to jolt forward. The -Italian sprang upon the running board and, clinging -to the hand-rail, continued to declaim emotionally -through the window. William became alarmed. "This -chap has something on his mind. Perhaps he's trying -to tell us that a bridge has blown up, or that the train -is moving without a movement order, or the chauffeur -is drunk. For Heaven's sake somebody do -something—quick!" -</p> - -<p> -Thereupon Babel broke loose, each of us in his panic -blazing off in the foreign language which came easiest -to his tongue. -</p> - -<p> -William called for a bath in Arabic. The Babe -demanded champagne in French. Albert Edward -declined <i>mensa</i>, while I, by the luckiest chance, struck a -language which the Italian recognised with a glad yelp. -In a moment explanations were over and I had swung -him into the carriage and slammed the door. -</p> - -<p> -The new-comer was a lieutenant of mountain artillery. -He was returning from leave, had confided himself -to the care of a Railway Transport Officer, had in -consequence missed every regular train and wanted a -lift to the next junction. That was all. I then set -about to make him as comfortable as possible, wrapping -him in one of the Babe's blankets and giving him his -maiden drink of whisky out of William's First Field -Dressing. With tears streaming down his cheeks he -vented his admiration of the British national beverage. -</p> - -<p> -In return he introduced me to the Italian national -smoke, an endless cigar to be sucked up through a straw. -Between violent spasms I implored the name and -address of the maker. We were both very perfect -gentlemen. -</p> - -<p> -We then prattled about the War; he boasting about -the terrific depths of snow in which he did his battling, -while I boasted about the Flanders mud. We broke -about even on that bout. He gained a bit on mountain -batteries, but I got it all back, and more, on tanks. He -had never seen one, so I had it all my own way. Our -tanks, after I had finished with them, could do pretty -nearly anything except knit. -</p> - -<p> -Defeated in the field, he turned home to Rome for -something to boast about. I should see St. Peter's, he -said. It was magnificent, and the Roman art treasures -unsurpassable. -</p> - -<p> -I replied that our cathedral at Westminster was far -newer, and that the art in our National Cold Storage -had cost an average of £5473 19s. 154d. per square foot. -Could he beat it? -</p> - -<p> -That knocked him out of his stride for a moment, -but he struggled back with some remark about seeing -his Coliseum by moonlight. -</p> - -<p> -I replied that at ours we had modern electric light, -Murphy and Mack, Vesta Tilley and the Bioscope. -</p> - -<p> -Whether he would have recovered from that I know -not, for at this moment the lights of the junction -twinkled in at the frosted windows and he took his -departure, first promising to call in at our Mess and -suffer some more whisky if in return I would crawl up -his mountain and meet the chamois and edelweiss. -</p> - -<p> -Later on, as I was making up my bed for the night, -Albert Edward poked his head out of the cocoon of -horse-blankets in which he had wound himself. -</p> - -<p> -"By the way, what ungodly jargon were you and -that Italian champing together so sociably?" -</p> - -<p> -"German," I whispered; "but for the Lord's sake -don't tell anybody." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap21"></a></p> - -<h3> -XXI -<br /><br /> -ANTONIO GIUSEPPE -</h3> - -<p> -Our squadron is at the present moment billeted in -what the house-agents would describe as a "unique -old-world property," a ramshackle pile which looks like -a palace from the south and a workhouse from the north. -</p> - -<p> -It commenced its career, back in the long ago, as a -glorified week-end bungalow for Doges. In course of -time it became a monastery. -</p> - -<p> -When the pious monks took over they got busy with -whitewash and obliterated most of the Doges' sportive -mural decorations. Most, but not all. -</p> - -<p> -Methinks the Abbot had tripped the boulevards in -his youth and he spared some of the brighter spots of the -more sportive frescoes in memory of old times and to -keep his heart up during Lent. Anyhow they are still -there. -</p> - -<p> -To-day our long-faced chums champ their feeds in -cloisters where once the good monks told their beads, -and our bold sergeant boys quaff their tonics beneath -a painted ceiling whereon Rackham satyrs are depicted -chivvying Kirchner nymphs across a Leader landscape. -</p> - -<p> -A small portion of one immense wing is inhabited by -a refugee lady, who had retired in good order, haling -the whole menagerie along with her, calves, fowls, -children, donkey, piebald pig and all. -</p> - -<p> -When first we came into residence here we heard -strange nocturnal swishings and shufflings overhead, -where none should be, and attributed them to the ghost -of the Abbot, who had returned from Purgatory with a -bucket of lime and was striving to wash out his former -lapses. Later on we discovered it was the calves, who -from inscrutable motives of their own prefer living in -the attics. How Mrs. Refugee hoisted them up there in -the first place and how she proposes to get them down -again when they ripen are questions she alone can -answer, but will never do so because we haven't enough -Italian to ask her. -</p> - -<p> -The piebald pig is supported entirely by voluntary -contributions, and, like many other such institutions, -keeps frequent fasts. When he retreated here there -was no sty to accommodate him; but Mrs. Refugee, with -the practical originality that distinguishes her, routed -out a retired dog-kennel from somewhere and anchored -him to it. This has had the effect of creating in him a -dual personality. -</p> - -<p> -Sometimes he thinks he is just fat old Dolce F. Niente -the pig, and behaves as such, and one can tread -all over him without disturbing his melodious slumbers. -At others the collar and chain prey on his mind and he -imagines he is Patrise Defensor the trusty watch-dog, -and mows down all comers. -</p> - -<p> -The children and fowls are doing nicely. They -speedily discover what innumerable fowls and children -all the world over had discovered before them, namely, -that the turtling dove is a wild beast compared with the -British warrior and his war-horse, and they victimise -the defenceless creatures accordingly. -</p> - -<p> -The result is that the Atkinses get only what husks -of their rations the children have neglected, and the -fowls only allow the hairies what oats they cannot -possibly stagger away with. -</p> - -<p> -Antonio Giuseppe the donkey was also a war profiteer. -Commerce might stagnate, armies clash and struggle, -nations bleed to death, he did not care. "<i>Viva la -guerra!</i>" said Antonio Giuseppe. "As long as there is -a British unit handy to dine out with I'm all for -it." These sentiments, though deplorable, were not without -reason, for until we came I very much doubt if he had -ever had a full meal—a real rib-straining blow-out—in -his life. -</p> - -<p> -He was a miserable little creature, standing about a -yard high by six inches broad. By tucking in his tail -he could have passed for a rabbit at any fancy-dress ball. -His costume was a patch-work affair of hairy tufts -and bare spaces. I think he must have been laid away -in a drawer without camphor at one time and been -mauled by a moth. -</p> - -<p> -A disreputable ragamuffin person was Antonio Giuseppe -the donkey, but for all that he had a way with him, -and was in his day the Light-weight Champion Diner-out -of all Italy—probably of the world. -</p> - -<p> -At night he reposed in the kitchen along with -Mrs. Refugee, the bambini and fowls. The day he spent in -his observation post, lurking behind a screen of -mulberries and vines, keeping a watchful eye on the horses. -</p> - -<p> -As soon as their nosebags were on he commenced to -move stealthily towards the lines, timing himself to -arrive just as the nosebags came off and the hay-nets -went up. He then glided softly between the horses -and helped himself. Being tiny and very discreet he -frequently passed unobserved, but should the line-guard -spot him he had his plan of action. -</p> - -<p> -Oft-times have I seen a perspiring and blasphemous -trooper pursuing the winged Antonio Giuseppe round -the lines with a stable broom; but when the broom -descended Antonio Giuseppe was not there to receive it. -He would nip under the breast-rope, slip in under one -horse's belly and out between the legs of another, -dodging through and round the astounded animals like a -half-back through a loose scrum or a greased pig at a -fair, snatching a generous contribution from each -hay-net as he passed. Under this method Antonio throve -and throve; but the tale of splintered brooms grew and -grew and the Quartermaster loved me not. -</p> - -<p> -Yesterday the General intimated that he'd like to -inspect us. Always eager to oblige, we licked, polished, -brushed and burnished ourselves, pipeclayed our -head-ropes, pomaded our moustaches, powdered our noses -and paraded. -</p> - -<p> -We paraded to-day in regimental column in a field -west of our palace-workhouse and sat stiff in our saddles, -the cheerful sunshine glowing on leather-work, glinting -on brass and steel, conscious that we could give any -Beauty Chorus a run for its money. -</p> - -<p> -There sounded a shrill fanfaronade of trumpets, tootling -the salute, and a dazzle of gold and scarlet like a -Turner sunset, blazed into view—the General and his -Staff. -</p> - -<p> -At the same moment Antonio Giuseppe espied us -from his observation post and, getting it into his head -that we were picnicing out (it was about lunch-time), -hastened to join us. As the General reached the -leading squadron Antonio Giuseppe reached the near -squadron and, sliding unobtrusively into its ranks, looked -about for the hay-nets. -</p> - -<p> -However the Second in Command noticed his arrival -and motioned to his trumpeter. The trumpeter spurned -forward and pinked Antonio Giuseppe in the hindquarters -with his sword-point as a hint to him to move on. -Antonio, thinking the line-guards were upon him and -with a new type of broom, loosed a squeal of agony and -straightway commenced his puss-in-the-corner antics in -and out and round about the horses' legs. They didn't -like it at all; it tickled and upset them; they changed -from the horizontal to the vertical, giggled and pawed -the air. -</p> - -<p> -Things were becoming serious. A hee-hawing tatterdemalion -donkey, playing "ring o' roses" with a squadron -of war-horses, tickling them into hysterics, -detracts from the majesty of such occasions and is no fit -spectacle for a General. A second trumpeter joined in -the chase and scored a direct prick on the soft of Antonio -Giuseppe's nose as he dived out under the tail of a -plunging gun-mare. Antonio whipped about and fled -towards the centre squadron, ears wobbling, braying -anguished S.O.S.'s. The two trumpeters, young and -ardent lads, thundered after him, swords at the engage, -racing each other, knee to knee for first blood. They -scored simultaneously on the butt of his tail, and -Antonio, stung to the quick, shot clean through (or rather -under) the centre squadron into the legs of the General's -horse, tripping up that majestic animal and bringing -the whole stately edifice down into a particularly muddy -patch of Italy. -</p> - -<p> -Tremendous and awful moment! As my groom and -countryman expressed it, "Ye cud hear the silence for -miles." The General did not break it. I think his -mouth was too full of mud and loose teeth for words. -He arose slowly out of the ooze like an old walrus -lifting through a bed of seaweed black as death, slime -dripping from his whiskers, and limped grimly from -the field, followed by his pallid staff proffering -handkerchiefs and smelling-salts. But I understand he -became distinctly articulate when he got home, and the -upshot of it is that we are to be put in the forefront of -the nastiest battle that can be arranged for us. -</p> - -<p> -And Antonio Giuseppe the donkey, author of all the -trouble, what of him? you ask. -</p> - -<p> -Antonio Giuseppe the donkey will never smile again, -dear reader. With his edges trimmed and "Welcome" -branded across his back he may serve as a mangy -door-mat for some suburban maisonette, but at the present -moment he lies in the mud of the parade-ground, as -flat as a sole on a sand-bank, waiting for someone to -roll him up and carry him away. -</p> - -<p> -When a full-fed Major-General falls he falls heavily. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap22"></a></p> - -<h3> -XXII -<br /><br /> -"I SPY" -</h3> - -<p> -I put my head into the Mess and discovered Albert -Edward alone there cheating himself at Patience. -</p> - -<p> -"My leave warrant has come and I'm off!" said I. -"If Foch should ring up tell him he'll have to struggle -along by himself for a fortnight. Cheeroh!" -</p> - -<p> -"Cheeroh!" said Albert Edward. "Give my regards -to Nero, Borgia and all the boys." -</p> - -<p> -I shut the door upon him and took the road to Rome. -</p> - -<p> -Arrived there I attempted to shed a card on the Pope, -but was repulsed by a halbardier in fancy dress; visited -the catacombs (by the way, in the art of catacombing -we latter-day sinners have nothing to learn from the -early saints. Why, at Arras in 1917 we—— Oh, well, -never mind now!); kept a solemn face while bands -solemnly intoned Tipperary (under the impression it -was the British National Anthem); bought a bushel of -mosaic brooches and several million picture postcards -and acted the perfect little tripper throughout. -</p> - -<p> -Then one day while stepping into a hotel lift I -bumped full into Wilfrid Wilcox Wilbur, stepping -forth. -</p> - -<p> -You have all of you read the works of Wilfrid Wilcox -Wilbur (<i>Passion Flowers</i>, <i>Purple Patches</i>, etc. Boost -and Boom. 6s.); if you haven't you should, for Wilfrid -is the lad to handle the soul-sob and the heart-throb and -warm up cold print generally. -</p> - -<p> -In pre-war days he was to be met with in London -drawing-rooms about tea-time wearing his mane rather -longer than is done in the best menageries, giving a very -realistic imitation of a lap-dog. And now behold him -in military disguise parading the Eternal City! -</p> - -<p> -"What are you doing here?" I gasped. -</p> - -<p> -He put a finger to his lips. "Psst!" Then pushing -me into the lift, he ejected the attendant, turned a -handle and we shot aloft. Half-way between heaven and -earth he stopped the conveyance and having made -quite sure we were not being overheard by either men -or angels, leaned up against my ear and whispered, -"Secret Service!" -</p> - -<p> -I was amazed. "Not really!" -</p> - -<p> -Wilbur nodded. "Yes, really! That's why I have -to be so careful; they have their agents everywhere -listening, watching, taking notes." -</p> - -<p> -I felt for my pocket-case momentarily fearful that -They (whoever They were) might have taken mine. -</p> - -<p> -"And do you have agents also, listening, noting, -taking watches?" I asked. -</p> - -<p> -Wilbur said he had and went on to explain that so -perfect was his system that a cat could hardly kitten -anywhere between the Yildiz Kiosk and Wilhelmstrasse -without his full knowledge and approval. I was very -thrilled, for I had previously imagined all the cloak -and dagger spy business to be an invention of the -magazine writer, yet here was little Wilbur, according to -himself, living a life of continuous yellow drama, more -Queuxrious than fiction, rich beyond dreams of -Garavice. (Publisher—"Tut-tut!" Author—"Peccavi!") -</p> - -<p> -I thrilled and thrilled. "Look here," I implored, -"if you are going to pull off a coup at any time, do -let me come too!" -</p> - -<p> -Wilbur demurred, the profession wasn't keen on -amateurs, he explained; they were too impetuous, lacked -subtlety—still if the opportunity occurred he -might—perhaps—— I wrung his hand, then, seeing that bells -on every landing had been in a state of uproar for -some fifteen minutes and that the attendant was -commencing to swarm the cable after his lift, we dropped -back to earth again, returned it to him and went out -to lunch. -</p> - -<p> -"And now tell me something of your methods," said -I, as we sat down to meat. -</p> - -<p> -Wilbur promptly grabbed me by the collar and -dragged me after him under the table. -</p> - -<p> -"What's the matter now?" I gulped. -</p> - -<p> -"Fool!" he hissed. "The waiter is a Bulgarian spy." -</p> - -<p> -"Let's arrest him then," said I. -</p> - -<p> -Wilbur groaned. "Oh, you amateurs, you would -stampede everything and ruin all!" -</p> - -<p> -I apologised meekly and we issued from cover again -and resumed our meal, silently because (according to -Wilbur) the peroxide blonde doing snake-charming -tricks with spaghetti at the next table was a Hungarian -agent, and there was a Turk concealed in the potted -palms near by. -</p> - -<p> -I thrilled and thrilled and thrilled. -</p> - -<p> -Then followed stirring days. Rome at that time, I -gathered, was the centre of the spy industry and at the -height of the sleuthing season, for they hemmed us in -on every hand—according to Wilbur. I was continually -being dragged aside into the shadow of dark arcades to -dodge Austrian Admirals disguised as dustmen, rushed -up black alleys to escape the machinations of Bolshevick -adventuresses parading as parish priests, and submerged -in fountains to avoid the evil eyes of German diplomats -camouflaged as flower girls—according to Wilbur. -</p> - -<p> -I thrilled and thrilled and thrilled and thrilled, -bought myself a stiletto and a false nose. -</p> - -<p> -However, after about a week of playing trusty Watson -to Wilbur's Sherlock without having effected a single -arrest, drugged one courier, stilettoed a soul, or being -allowed to wear my false nose once, my thrillings became -less violent, and giving Wilbur the slip one afternoon, -I went on the prowl alone. About four of the clock -my investigations took me to Latour's. At a small -marble table lapping up ices as a kitten laps cream, I -beheld Temporary Second Lieut. Mervyn Esmond. -</p> - -<p> -You all of you remember Mervyn Esmond, he of the -spats, the eyeglass and grey top-hat, the Super-Knut -of the Frivolity Theatre who used to gambol so -gracefully before the many "twinkling toes" of the -Super-Beauty Chorus, singing "Billy of Piccadilly." You -must remember Mervyn Esmond! -</p> - -<p> -But that was the Esmond of yore, for a long time -past he has been doing sterling work in command of -an Army Pierrot troupe. -</p> - -<p> -I sat down beside him, stole his ice and finished it -for him. -</p> - -<p> -"And now what are you doing here?" I asked. -</p> - -<p> -"I've come down from the line to get some new -dresses for Queenie," he replied. "She—he, that is—is -absolutely in rags, bursts a pair of corsets and a pair -of silk stockings every performance, very expensive -item." -</p> - -<p> -I had better explain here and now that Queenie is -the leading lady in Mervyn's troupe. She—he, that -is—started her—his—military career as an artillery -driver, but was discovered to be the possessor of a very -shrill falsetto voice and dedicated to female -impersonations forthwith. -</p> - -<p> -"She—he—is round at the dressmaker's now," -Mervyn went on, "wrestling with half a dozen <i>hysterical</i> -mannequins. I'm getting her—him, I should say—up -regardless. Listen. Dainty ninon georgette outlined -with chenile stitching. Charmeuse overtunic, -embroidered with musquash and skunk pom-poms. Crêpe -de Chine undies interwoven with blue baby ribbon, -camis——" -</p> - -<p> -"Stop!" I thundered. "Do you want me to blush -myself to death? I am but a rough soldier." -</p> - -<p> -Mervyn apologised, wrapped himself round another -ice and asked me how I was amusing myself in Tiber-town. -</p> - -<p> -Having first ascertained that there were no enemy -agents secreted under the table or among the potted -palms, I unburdened my soul to him concerning Wilbur -and the coups that never came off. -</p> - -<p> -He stared at me for a few moments, his eyes twinkling, -then he leaned over the table. -</p> - -<p> -"My active brain has evolved a be-autiful plan," -said he. "It's yours for another ice." -</p> - -<p> -I bought it. -</p> - -<p class="t3"> -* * * * * * * * -</p> - -<p> -I found Wilbur sleuthing the crowd from behind a -tall tumbler in the Excelsior lounge, and dragging him -into the lift, hung it up half-way between here and -hereafter, and whispered my great news. -</p> - -<p> -"Where, when?" he cried, blench-blanching. -</p> - -<p> -"In my hotel at midnight," I replied. "I hid in a -clothes-basket and heard all. We will frustrate their -knavish tricks, thou and I." -</p> - -<p> -Wilbur did not appear to be as keen as I had expected, -he hummed and hawed and chatted about my amateurishness -and impetuosity; but I was obdurate, and taking -him firmly by the arm led him off to dinner. -</p> - -<p> -I hardly let go of his arm at all for the next five -hours, judging it safer so. -</p> - -<p> -Five minutes before midnight I led him up the stairs -of my hotel and tip-toeing into a certain room, clicked -on the light. -</p> - -<p> -"See that door over there?" I whispered, pointing, -"'tis the bathroom. Hide there. I shall be concealed -in the wardrobe. In five minutes the conspirators will -appear. The moment you hear me shout, 'Hands up, -Otto von Schweinhund, <i>le jeu est fait</i>,' or words to that -effect—burst out of the bathroom and collar the -lady." -</p> - -<p> -I pushed Wilbur into the bathroom (he was trembling -slightly, excitement no doubt) and closed the door. -</p> - -<p> -I had no sooner shut myself into the wardrobe when -a man and a woman entered the room. They were both -in full evening dress, the man was a handsome rascal, -the woman a tall, languid beauty, gorgeously dressed. -She flung herself down in a chair and lit a cigarette. -The man carefully locked the door and crossed the room -towards her. -</p> - -<p> -"Hansa," he hissed, "did you get the plans of the -fortress?" -</p> - -<p> -She laughed and taking a packet of papers from the -bosom of her dress, flung it on the table. -</p> - -<p> -"'Twas easy, <i>mon cher</i>." -</p> - -<p> -He caught it and held it aloft. -</p> - -<p> -"Victory!" he cried. "The Vaterland is saved!" -</p> - -<p> -He passed round the table and stood before her, his -eyes glittering. -</p> - -<p> -"You beautiful devil," he muttered, through clenched -teeth. "I knew you could do it. I knew you would -bewitch the young attaché. All men are puppets in -your hands, beautiful, beautiful fiend!" -</p> - -<p> -The moment had come. Hastily donning my false -nose, I flung open the wardrobe, shouted the signal and -covered the pair with my stiletto. The woman screamed -and flung herself into the arms of her accomplice. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, ha, foiled again! Curse you!" He snarled -and covered me with the plans of the fortress. -</p> - -<p> -I grappled with him, he grappled with me, the -beautiful devil grappled with both of us; we all -grappled. -</p> - -<p> -There was no movement from the bathroom door. -</p> - -<p> -We grappled some more, we grappled all over the -table, over the washstand and a brace of chairs. The -villain lost his whiskers, the villainess lost her lovely -golden wig, the hero (me) lost his false nose. I shouted -the signal once more, the villain shouted it, the villainess -shouted it, we all shouted it. -</p> - -<p> -There was no movement from the bathroom door. -</p> - -<p> -We grappled some more, we grappled over the chest -of drawers, under the carpet and in and out of the -towel-horse. -</p> - -<p> -A muffled report rang out from somewhere about the -beautiful devil. -</p> - -<p> -"For God's sake, go easy!" she wheezed in my left -ear. "My corsets have went!" -</p> - -<p> -Then, as there was still no movement from the bathroom -door, and we none of us had a grapple left in us, -we called "time." -</p> - -<p> -Mervyn sat up on the edge of the bed sourly regarding -the bedraggled Queenie. -</p> - -<p> -"In rags once more, twenty pounds' worth of -georgette, charmeuse and ninon whatisname torn to shreds!" -he groaned. "Oh, you tom-boy, you!" -</p> - -<p> -"Come and dig these damn whalebones out of my -ribs," said she. -</p> - -<p> -I staggered across the room and opening the bathroom -door, peered within. -</p> - -<p> -"Any sign of our friend Sherlock, the spy-hound?" -Mervyn enquired. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," said I. "He's tumbled in a dead faint into -the bath!" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap23"></a></p> - -<h3> -XXIII -<br /><br /> -A FAUX PAS -</h3> - -<p> -When we have finished slaying for the day, have -stropped our gory sabres, hung our horses up to -dry and are sitting about after mess, girths slackened -and pipes aglow, it is a favourite pastime of ours to -discuss what we are going to do after the War. -</p> - -<p> -William, our mess president and transport officer, -says frankly, "Nothing." Three years' continuous -struggle to keep the mess going in whiskey and soda and -the officers' kit down to two hundred and fifty pounds -per officer has made an old man of him, once so full of -bright quips and conundrums. The moment Hindenburg -chucks up the sponge off goes William to Chelsea -Hospital, there to spend the autumn of his days pitching -the yarn and displaying his honourable scars gained in -many a bloody battle in the mule lines. -</p> - -<p> -So much for William. The Skipper, who is as -sensitive to climate as a lily of the hot-house, prattles -lovingly during the summer months of selling ice-creams -to the Eskimos, and during the winter months of -peddling roast chestnuts in Timbuctoo. MacTavish and the -Babe propose, under the euphonious noms de commerce -of Vavaseur and Montmorency, to open pawn-shops -among ex-munition-workers, and thereby accumulate old -masters, grand pianos and diamond tiaras to export to -the United States. For myself I have another plan. -</p> - -<p> -There is a certain historic wood up north through -which bullets whine, shells rumble and no bird sings. -After the War I am going to float a company, purchase -that wood and turn it into a pleasure-resort for the -accommodation of tourists. -</p> - -<p> -There will be an entrance fee of ten francs, and -everything else will be extra. -</p> - -<p> -Tea in the dug-out—ten francs. Trips through -trenches, accompanied by trained guides reciting -selected passages from the outpourings of our special -correspondents—ten francs. At night grand S.O.S. rocket -and Very light display—ten francs. While for -a further twenty francs the tourist will be allowed to -pick up as many souvenirs in the way of rolls of barbed -wire, dud bombs and blind crumps as he can stagger -away with. By this means the country will be cleared -of its explosive matter and I shall be able to spend my -declining years in Park Lane, or, anyway, Tooting. -</p> - -<p> -Our Albert Edward has not been making any plans -as to his future lately, but just now it looks very much -as if his future will be spent in gaol. It happened this -way. He had been up forward doing some O. Pipping. -While he was there he made friends with a battery and -persuaded the poor fools into doing some shooting under -his direction. He says it is great fun sitting up in your -O. Pip, a pipe in your teeth, a telescope clapped to -your blind eye, removing any parts of the landscape -that you take a dislike to. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't care for that tree at A 29.b.5.8"," you say -to the telephone. "It's altogether too crooked (or too -straight). Off with its head!" and, hey presto! the -offending herb is not. Or, "That hill at C 39.d.7.4" -is quite absurd; it's ridiculously lop-sided. I think we'll -have a valley there instead." And lo! the absurd -excrescence goes west in a puff of smoke. -</p> - -<p> -Our Albert Edward spent a most enjoyable week -altering the geography of Europe to suit his taste. Then -one morning he made a trifling error of about thirty -degrees and some few thousand yards and removed the -wrong village. -</p> - -<p> -"One village looks very much like another, and -what are a few thousand yards this way or that in a war -of world-wide dimensions? Gentlemen, let us not be -trivial," said our Albert Edward to the red-hatted -people who came weeping to his O. Pip. Nevertheless -some unpleasantness resulted, and our Albert Edward -came home to shelter in the bosom of us, his family. -</p> - -<p> -The unpleasantness spread, for twenty-four hours -later came a chit for our Albert Edward, saying if he -had nothing better to do would he drop in and swop -yarns with the General at noon that day? Our Albert -Edward made his will, pulled on his parade boots, drank -half a bottle of brandy neat, kissed us farewell and -rode off to his doom. As he passed the borders of the -camp The O'Murphy uncorked himself from a drain, -and, seeing his boon-companion faring forth a-horse, -abandoned the ratstrafe and trotted after him. -</p> - -<p> -A word or two explaining The O'Murphy. Two years -ago we were camped at one end of a certain damp dark -gully up north. Thither came a party of big marines -and a small Irish terrier, bringing with them a long -naval gun, which they covered with a camouflage of -sackcloth and ashes and let off at intervals. Whenever -the long gun was about to fire the small dog went mad, -bounced about behind the gun-trail like an indiarubber -ball, in an ecstasy of expectation. When the great gun -boomed he shrieked with joy and shot away up the gully -looking for the rabbit. The poor little dog's hunt up -and down the gully for the rabbit that never had been -was one of the most pathetic sights I ever saw. That -so many big men with such an enormous gun should -miss the rabbit every time was gradually killing him -with disgust and exasperation. -</p> - -<p> -Meeting my groom one evening I spoke of the matter -to him, casually mentioning that there was a small -countryman of ours close at hand breaking his heart -because there never was any rabbit. I clearly explained -to my groom that I was suggesting nothing, dropping -no hints, but I thought it a pity such a sportsman should -waste his talents with those sea-soldiers when there -were outfits like ours about, offering all kinds of -opportunities to one of the right sort. I again repeated that -I was making no suggestions and passed on to some other -subject. -</p> - -<p> -Imagine my astonishment when, on making our -customary bi-weekly trek next day, I discovered the -small terrier secured to our tool-limber by a piece of -baling-wire, evidently enjoying the trip and abusing the -limber-mules as if he had known them all his life. Since -he had insisted on coming with us there was nothing -further to be said, so we christened him "The -O'Murphy," attached him to the strength for rations and -discipline, and for two years he has shared our joys -and sorrows, our billets and bully-beef, up and down -the land of Somewheres. -</p> - -<p> -But it was with our Albert Edward he got particularly -chummy. They had the same dislike of felines and the -same taste in biscuits. Thus when Albert Edward rode -by, ears drooping, tail tucked in (so to speak), <i>en route</i> -to the shambles, The O'Murphy saw clearly that here -was the time to prove his friendship, and trotted along -behind. On arriving at H.Q. the comrades shook paws -and licked each other good-bye. Then Albert Edward -stumbled within and The O'Murphy hung about outside -saucing the brass-collared Staff dogs and waiting to -gather up what fragments remained of his chum's body -after the General had done with it. His interview with -the General our Albert Edward prefers not to describe; -it was too painful, too humiliating, he says. That a man -of the General's high position, advanced age and -venerable appearance could lose his self-control to such a -degree was a terrible revelation to Albert Edward. "Let -us draw a veil over that episode," he said. -</p> - -<p> -But what happened later on he did consent to tell us. -When the General had burst all his blood vessels, and -Albert Edward was congratulating himself that the -worst was over, the old man suddenly grabbed a Manual -of Military Law off his desk, hurled it into a corner -and dived under a table, whence issued scuffling sounds, -grunts and squeals. "See that?" came the voice of -the General from under the table. "Of all confounded -impudence!—did you see that?" -</p> - -<p> -Albert Edward made noises in the negative. "A -rat, by golly!" boomed the venerable warrior, "big as -a calf, came out of his hole and stood staring at me. -Damn his impudence! I cut off his retreat with the -manual and he's somewhere about here now. Flank -him, will you?" -</p> - -<p> -As Albert Edward moved to a flank there came sounds -of another violent scuffle under the table, followed by -a glad whoop from, the General, who emerged rumpled -but triumphant. -</p> - -<p> -"Up-ended the waste-paper basket on him," he -panted, dusting his knees with a handkerchief. "And -now, me lad, what now, eh?" -</p> - -<p> -"Fetch a dog, sir," answered Albert Edward, mindful -of his friend The O'Murphy. The General sneered, -"Dog be blowed! What's the matter with the old-fashioned -cat? I've got a plain tabby with me that has -written standard works on ratting." He lifted up his -voice and bawled to his orderly to bring one Pussums. -"Had the old tabby for years, me lad," he continued; -"brought it from home—carry it round with me everywhere; -and I don't have any rat troubles. Orderly! -</p> - -<p> -"Fellers come out here with St. Bernard dogs, shotguns, -poison, bear-traps and fishing-nets and never get -a wink of sleep for the rats, while one common cat like -my old Pussums would—— Oh, where is that -confounded feller?" -</p> - -<p> -He strode to the door and flung it open, admitting, -not an orderly but The O'Murphy, who nodded pleasantly -to him and trotted across the room, tail twinkling, -love-light shining in his eyes, and deposited at Albert -Edward's feet his offering, a large dead tabby cat. -</p> - -<p> -Albert Edward remembers no more. He had swooned. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap24"></a></p> - -<h3> -XXIV -<br /><br /> -MON REPOS -</h3> - -<p> -Albert Edward and I are on detachment just -now. I can't mention what job we are on because -Hindenburg is listening. He watches every move made -by Albert Edward and me and disposes his forces -accordingly. Now and again he forestalls us, now and -again he don't. On the former occasions he rings up -Ludendorff, and they make a night of it with beer and -song; on the latter he pushes the bell violently for the -old German God. -</p> - -<p> -The spot Albert Edward and I inhabit just now is -very interesting; things happen all round us. There -is a tame balloon tied by a string to the back garden, -an ammunition column on either flank and an infantry -battalion camped in front. Aeroplanes buzz overhead -in flocks and there is a regular tank service past the -door. One way and another our present location fairly -teems with life; Albert Edward says it reminds him of -London. To heighten the similarity we get bombed -every night. -</p> - -<p> -Promptly after Mess the song of the bomb-bird is -heard. The searchlights stab and slash about the sky -like tin swords in a stage duel; presently they pick up -the bomb-bird—a glittering flake of tinsel—and the -racket begins. Archibalds pop, machine guns chatter, -rifles crack, and here and there some optimistic -sportsman browns the Milky Way with a revolver. As Sir -I. Newton's law of gravity is still in force and all that -goes up must come down again, it is advisable to wear -a parasol on one's walks abroad. -</p> - -<p> -In view of the heavy lead-fall Albert Edward and I -decided to have a dug-out. We dug down six inches -and struck water in massed formation. I poked a finger -into the water and licked it. "Tastes odd," said I, -"brackish or salt or something." -</p> - -<p> -"We've uncorked the blooming Atlantic, that's -what," said Albert Edward; "cork it up again quickly -or it'll bob up and swamp us." That done, we looked -about for something that would stand digging into. The -only thing we could find was a molehill, so we delved our -way into that. We are residing in it now, Albert -Edward, Maurice and I. We have called it "<i>Mon Repos</i>," -and stuck up a notice saying we are inside, otherwise -visitors would walk over it and miss us. -</p> - -<p> -The chief drawback to "<i>Mon Repos</i>" is Maurice. -Maurice is the proprietor by priority, a mole by nature. -Our advent has more or less driven him into the hinterland -of his home and he is most unpleasant about it. -He sits in the basement and sulks by day, issuing at -night to scrabble about among our boots, falling over -things and keeping us awake. If we say "Boo! Shoo!" -or any harsh word to him he doubles up the backstairs -to the attic and kicks earth over our faces at -three-minute intervals all night. -</p> - -<p> -Albert Edward says he is annoyed about the rent, -but I call that absurd. Maurice is perfectly aware that -there is a war on, and to demand rent from soldiers -who are defending his molehill with their lives is the -most ridiculous proposition I ever heard of. As I said -before, the situation is most unpleasant, but I don't see -what we can do about it, for digging out Maurice means -digging down "<i>Mon Repos</i>," and there's no sense in -that. Albert Edward had a theory that the mole is a -carnivorous animal, so he smeared a worm with carbolic -tooth-paste and left it lying about. It lay about -for days. Albert now admits his theory was wrong; -the mole is a vegetarian, he says; he was confusing it -with trout. He is in the throes of inventing an -explosive potato for Maurice on the lines of a percussion -grenade, but in the meanwhile that gentleman remains -in complete mastery of the situation. -</p> - -<p> -The balloon attached to our back garden is very tame. -Every morning its keepers lead it forth from its abode -by strings, tie it to a longer string and let it go. All -day it remains aloft, tugging gently at its leash and -keeping an eye on the War. In the evening the keepers -appear once more, haul it down and lead it home for -the night. It reminds me for all the world of a huge -docile elephant being bossed about by the mahout's -infant family. I always feel like giving the gentle -creature a bun. -</p> - -<p> -Now and again the Boche birds come over disguised -as clouds and spit mouthfuls of red-hot tracer-bullets -at it, and then the observers hop out. One of them -"hopped out" into my horse lines last week. That is to -say his parachute caught in a tree and he hung swinging, -like a giant pendulum, over my horses' backs until -we lifted him down. He came into "<i>Mon Repos</i>" to -have bits of tree picked out of him. This was the sixth -plunge overboard he had done in ten days, he told us. -Sometimes he plunged into the most embarrassing -situations. On one occasion he dropped clean through a -bivouac roof into a hot bath containing a Lieutenant-Colonel, -who punched him with a sponge and threw soap -at him. On another he came fluttering down from the -blue into the midst of a labour company of Chinese -coolies, who immediately fell on their faces, worshipping -him as some heavenly being, and later cut off all his -buttons as holy relics. An eventful life. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap25"></a></p> - -<h3> -XXV -<br /><br /> -"FLY, GENTLE DOVE" -</h3> - -<p> -We were told off for a job of work over the bags not -long ago. The Staff sent us some pigeons with -their love, and expressed the hope that we'd drop them -a line from time to time and let them know how the -battle was raging, and where. (The Staff live in -constant terror that one day the War will walk completely -away from them and some unruly platoon bomb its way -up Unter den Linden without their knowing a thing -about it.) -</p> - -<p> -Next morning we duly pushed off, and in the course -of time found ourselves deep in Bocheland holding a -sketchy line of outposts and waiting for the Hun to do -the sporting thing and counter. More time passed, and -as the Hun showed no signs of getting a move on we -began to look about us and take stock. -</p> - -<p> -Personally I felt that a square meal might do something -towards curing a hollow feeling that was gnawing -me beneath the belt. As I was rummaging through my -haversack the pigeon-carrier approached and asked for -the book of rules. -</p> - -<p> -Now to the uninitiated, I have no doubt, pigeon-flying -sounds the easiest game in the world. You just take -a picture-postcard, mark the spot you are on with a cross, -add a few words, such as, "Hoping this finds you in the -pink, as it leaves me at present—I don't think," insert it -in the faithful fowl's beak, say, "Home, John," and in -a few minutes it is rattling into the General's letter-box. -This is by no means the case. Pigeons are the kittlest -of cattle. If you don't treat them just so they will -either chuck up the game on the spot or hand your note -to Hindenburg. To avoid this a book of the rules is -issued to pigeon-carriers, giving instructions as to when -and how the creatures should be fed, watered, exercised, -etc. -</p> - -<p> -On this occasion I felt through my pockets for the -book of the rules and drew blank. "What's the matter -with the bird, anyhow?" I asked. -</p> - -<p> -"Looks a bit dahn-'earted," said the carrier; -"dejected-like, as you might say." -</p> - -<p> -"Seeing you've been carrying it upside down for the -last twenty-four hours it isn't to be wondered at," said -my Troop Sergeant; "blood's run to its head, that's -what." -</p> - -<p> -"Turn it the other way up for a bit and run the blood -back again," I suggested. -</p> - -<p> -"Exercise is what it wants," said my sergeant firmly. -</p> - -<p> -"By all means exercise it, then," said I. -</p> - -<p> -The carrier demurred. "Very good, sir—but how, sir?" -</p> - -<p> -"Ask the sergeant," said I. "Sergeant, how do -you exercise a pigeon? Lunge it, or put it through -Swedish monkey motions?" -</p> - -<p> -The sergeant rubbed his chin stubble. -</p> - -<p> -"Can't say I remember the official method, sir; -one might take it for a walk at the end of a string, -or——" -</p> - -<p> -"These official pigeons," I interposed, "have got -to be treated in the official manner or they won't work; -their mechanism becomes deranged. We had a pigeon -at the Umpteenth Battle of Wipers and upset it -somehow. Anyway, when we told it to buzz off and fetch -reinforcements, it sat on a tree licking its fluff and -singing, and we had to throw mud at it to get it to shift. -Where it went to then goodness only knows, for it has -never been seen since. I am going to do the right thing -by this bird." -</p> - -<p> -I thereupon sent a galloper to the next outpost, -occupied by the Babe and Co., asking him the official -recipe for exercising pigeons. The answer came back as -follows:— -</p> - -<p> -"Ask Albert Edward. All I know about 'em is that -you mustn't discharge birds of opposite sex together as -they stop and flirt. -</p> - -<p> -P.S.—You haven't got such a thing as a bit of cold -pudden about you, guv'nor, have you? I'm all in." -</p> - -<p> -I sent the galloper galloping on to Albert Edward's -post. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't discharge birds after sunset," ran his reply; -"they're afraid to go home in the dark—that's all I -recollect. Ask the Skipper. -</p> - -<p> -P.S.—Got a bit of bully beef going spare? I'm -tucked up something terrible." -</p> - -<p> -I sighed and sent my messenger on to the Skipper, -inquiring the official method of exercising pigeons. -Half an hour later his answer reached me— -</p> - -<p> -"Don't know. Try eating 'em. That's what I'm -doing with mine." -</p> - -<p> -While on the subject of carrier-pigeons, I may -mention that one winter night I was summoned to Corps -H.Q. Said a Red Hat: "We are going to be rude to -the Boche at dawn and we want you to go over with -the boys. When you reach your objectives just drop -us a pigeon to say so. Here's a chit, take it to the -pigeon loft and get a good nippy fowl. Good night and -good luck." -</p> - -<p> -I found the pigeon-fancier inside an old London -omnibus which served for a pigeon-loft, spoon-feeding -a sick bird. A dour Lancastrian, the fancier studied -my chit with a sour eye, then, grumbling that he didn't -know what the army was coming to turning birds out of -bed at this hour, he slowly climbed a ladder and, poking -his head through a trap in the roof, addressed himself -to the pigeons. -</p> - -<p> -"That you, Flossie? No, you can't go with them tail -feathers missing to the General's cat. Jellicoe—no, you -can't go neither, you've 'ad a 'ard day out with them -tanks. Nasty cough you've got, Gaby; I'll give you a -drop of 'ot for it presently. You're breathin' very -'eavy, Joffre; been over-eatin' yourself again, I -suppose—couldn't fly a yard. Eustace, you're for it." -</p> - -<p> -He backed down the ladder, grasping the unfortunate -Eustace, stuffed it in a basket and handed it to me. -</p> - -<p> -"I hope this is a good bird," said I, "nippy and all -that?" -</p> - -<p> -The fancier snorted, "Good bird? Nothing can't -stop 'im, barrages, smoke, nothing. 'E's deserved the -V.C. scores of times over; 'e's the best bird in the army, -an' don't you forget it, sir." -</p> - -<p> -I promised not to, caught up the basket and fled. -</p> - -<p> -I reached the neighbourhood of the line at about -2 a.m. It was snowing hard and the whole front was -sugared over like a wedding-cake, every track and -landmark obliterated. For some hours I groped about -seeking Battalion H.Q., tripping over hidden wire, -toboganning down snow-masked craters into icy shell-holes, the -inimitable Eustace with me. Finally I fell head-first -into a dug-out inhabited by three ancient warriors, who -were sitting round a brazier sucking cigarettes. They -were Brigade Scouts, they told me, and were going over -presently. They were also Good Samaritans, one of -them, Fred, giving me his seat by the fire and a mug -of scalding cocoa, while his colleagues, Messrs. Alf and -Bert, attended to Eustace, who needed all the attention -he could get. I caught snatches of their conversation -here and there: "Shall us toast 'im over the brazier a -bit, Alf?" "Wonder if a drop o' rum would 'earten -'im?" "Tip it into his jaws when 'e yawns, Bert." -</p> - -<p> -At length Eustace's circulation was declared restored -and the three set about harnessing themselves for the -war, encasing their legs in sand-bags, winding endless -mufflers round their heads and donning innumerable -odd overcoats, so that their final appearance was more -that of apple-women than scouts. -</p> - -<p> -We then set out for the battle, Bert leading the way -towards the barrage which was cracking and banging -away in yellow flashes over the Boche lines. -</p> - -<p> -Presently we heard a muffled hail ahead. -</p> - -<p> -"Wazzermatter, Bert?" Alf shouted. -</p> - -<p> -"They've quit—slung their 'ook," came the voice. -</p> - -<p> -Fifty yards brought us bumping up against Bert, -who was prodding through the débris of a German post -with the point of his bayonet. -</p> - -<p> -"So the swines have beat it?" said Fred. "Any -soovenirs?" -</p> - -<p> -"Nah!" said Bert, spitting, "not a blinkin' 'am-sandwich." -</p> - -<p> -"Is this really our objective?" I asked. -</p> - -<p> -"It is, sir," Bert replied. "Best sit down and keep -quiet; the rest of the boys will be along in a jiffy, and -they'd bomb their own grandmothers when they're -worked up." -</p> - -<p> -I put my hand in the basket and dragged Eustace -forth. He didn't look up to V.C. form. Still I had -explicit orders to release him when our objective was -reached, and obedience is second nature with me. -</p> - -<p> -I secured my message to his leg, wished him luck and -tossed him high in the air. A swirl of snow hid him -from view. -</p> - -<p> -I didn't call at H.Q. when I returned. I went -straight home to bed and stayed there. As they did not -send for me and I heard no more about it I conjectured -that the infallible Eustace had got back to his bus and -all was well. Nevertheless I had a sort of uneasy -feeling about him. I heard no more of it for ten days, and -then, out walking one afternoon, I bumped into the -pigeon-fancier. There was no way of avoiding the man; -the lane was only four feet wide, bounded by nine-foot -walls with glass on top. So I halted opposite him, -smiled my prettiest and asked after Eustace. "So glad -he got home all right," said I; "a great bird that." -</p> - -<p> -The fancier glared at me, his sour eyes sparkling, his -fists opening and shutting. I felt that only bitter -discipline stood between them and my throat. -</p> - -<p> -"Ay, sir," said he, speaking with difficulty, "he's a -great bird, but not the bird he was. He got home all -right yesterday, but very stiff in the legs from walking -every step o' the way." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap26"></a></p> - -<h3> -XXVI -<br /><br /> -THERE AND BACK -</h3> - -<p> -My batman is a man with a grievance. He squats -outside my tent all day moodily burnishing my -buttons and swears and sighs, sighs and swears. In the -words of my groom and countryman, "Ye'd think -there'd be a black dog atin' the hearrt in his shest the -way he is, the poor scut." -</p> - -<p> -I learn that he has given out that if he sees a crump -coming he'll "Blinkin' well wait for it," that he -presented his bosom chum with a black eye gratis, and is -declining beer. All this sounds like love, but isn't. -This is the way of it. -</p> - -<p> -Last week after nineteen months' undetected misbehaviour -in the tented field, he was granted ten days' -leave. He departed radiant as a May morn, groomed -and glittering from spurs to cap badge. -</p> - -<p> -Within three days he was back again. -</p> - -<p> -According to his version of the affair, he reached the -coast in good order and was given a hearty meal by some -ladies in a canteen but lost it in mid-Channel. Owing -to mines, air raids, and things both boat and train were -scandalously late, but in the end he arrived at Victoria -at 6 a.m. still in good order. Outside the station were -a number of civilians waiting for soldier relatives. One -of them, a small sandy man in a black bowler and tie, -very respectable (connected with the retail undertaking -trade, my batman says) accosted him and inquired -whether anything had been seen of his brother Charlie, -a territorial bombardier who was supposed to be coming -by that train, but had not materialized. -</p> - -<p> -My batman could give no information and they fell -into a discussion as to what could have happened to -Charlie: whether he might have missed the train or -fallen off the boat. My batman favoured the latter -theory, he had felt very like it himself, he said. One -thing led to another and presently the sandy man said: -</p> - -<p> -"Well, what about it?" lifting his elbow -suggestively, and winking. -</p> - -<p> -My batman said he didn't mind if he did, so they -adjourned to a little place near by that the sandy man -knew of, and had one or two, the sandy man behaving -like a perfect gentleman throughout, standing drink for -drink, cigar for cigar. -</p> - -<p> -At 7 a.m. or thereabouts, the sandy man excused -himself on the plea of business (which he explained was -very healthy owing to the inclemency of the weather) -and betook himself off, my batman returning to Victoria -to retrieve his pack. -</p> - -<p> -By this time his order was not so good as it had been, -owing, he thinks, to (a) the excitement of being home -again, hearing civilians all talking English and seeing -so many intact houses at once; (b) the bereaved state -of his stomach. Whatever it was he navigated to the -station with difficulty and "comin' over all dizzy like," -reclined on a platform bench and closed his eyes. -</p> - -<p> -When he opened them again it was to see the white -cliffs of Albion rapidly disappearing over the stern rail -of a trooper. He closed his eyes again and told himself -he was dreaming, but not for long—he might deceive -his reason but not his stomach. -</p> - -<p> -He soon saw that he was in mid-Channel going back -to France. He sat up on deck and shouted for someone -to stop the ship. -</p> - -<p> -"'E's come to, Bill," said a familiar voice at his -side, and turning, he beheld the cheerful countenances -of Frederick Wilkes and William Buck, two stalwarts -of "ours" who were returning from leave. -</p> - -<p> -My batman asked Frederick Wilkes what he thought -he was doing of. -</p> - -<p> -"Saving you from six months in clink for over-staying -your leaf, ol' dear!" Frederick replied cheerfully. -"Me and Bill found you on the station, blind to the -world, so we loaded you on the train and bringed you -along. Pretty job we had of it, too, getting you past -the red-caps, you slopping about like a lu-natic." -</p> - -<p> -"Clink! Overstayin' my leaf!" shrilled my batman. -"Gor-blimy! I ain't 'ad no leaf—I only just landed!" -</p> - -<p> -"Delerious again, Bill," said Frederick, and Bill -nodded. "Of course you've had your leaf, an' a wonderful -good leaf, too, by the looks of you—blind to the -world from start to finish, not knowin' dark from -daylight." -</p> - -<p> -"I'll tell the first R.T.O. I see all about it when I -land—you perishin' kidnappers!" foamed my batman. -</p> - -<p> -"Ho no, you won't!" said Frederick, complacently. -"We aren't going to 'ave you runnin' about in your -light-'eaded condition disgracin' the regiment—are we, -Bill?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not likely," William Buck replied. "We're going -to take you back with us, safe and sound if we 'ave to -break your neck to do it, an' don't you forget it, ol' -man!" -</p> - -<p> -I think it is extremely improbable that my batman -ever will. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap27"></a></p> - -<h3> -XXVII -<br /><br /> -HOT AIR -</h3> - -<p> -The scene is a base camp behind the Western Front. -In the background is a gravel pit, its brow fringed -with pines. On the right-hand side is a black hut; -against one wall several cast-iron cylinders are leaning; -against another several stretchers; behind it a squad of -R.A.M.C. orderlies are playing pitch and toss for profit -and pleasure. On the left-hand side is a cemetery. -</p> - -<p> -On the turf in the centre of the stage are some two -hundred members of the well-known British family, -Atkins. The matter in hand being merely that of life -and death those in the rear ranks are whiling away the -time by playing crown and anchor. Their less fortunate -comrades in the prominence of the front ranks are -"havin' a bit o' shut eye"—in other words are fast -asleep sitting up, propped the one against the other. -</p> - -<p> -Before them stands a Bachelor of Science disguised -as a Second Lieutenant. From the green and black -brassard about his arm and the <i>attar de chlorine</i> and -<i>parfum de phosgene</i> which cling about him in a murky -aureole one would guess him to be connected with the -Gas Service. And one would be quite correct; he is. -</p> - -<p class="t3"> -* * * * * * * * -</p> - -<p> -Lecturer: "Ahem! Pay attention to me, please; I -am going to give you a little chat on Gas. When you go -up the line one of two things must inevitably happen -to you; you will either be gassed or you will not. If -you are not gassed strict attention to this lecture will -enable you to talk as if you had been. On the other -hand, if you are gassed it will enable you to distinguish -to which variety you succumbed, which will be most -instructive. -</p> - -<p> -"There are more sorts of gas than one. There is the -Home or Domestic Gas, which does odd jobs about the -house at a bob a time, and which out here is fed to -observation balloons to get them off the earth. There is -Laughing Gas, so called from the fun the dentist gets -out of his victims while they are under its influence; -and lastly there is Hun Gas, which is not so amusing. -</p> - -<p> -"Three varieties of gas are principally employed by -the Hun. The first of these is Chlorine. Chlorine -smells like a strong sanitary orderly or weak chloride -of lime. The second on our list is Mustard Gas, so -called because it smells like garlic. Everything that -smells of garlic is not Mustard Gas, however, as a certain -British Division which went into the line alongside some -of our brave Southern allies regretfully discovered after -they had been sweltering in their masks for thirty-six -long, long hours. -</p> - -<p> -"The third and last is Phosgene. Phosgene has a -greenish whitish yellowish odour all its own, reminiscent -of decayed vegetation, mouldy hay, old clothes, wet hides, -burnt feathers, warm mice, polecats, dead mules, boiled -cabbage, stewed prunes, sour grapes, or anything else -you dislike. -</p> - -<p> -"As all these gases have a depressing effect on the -consumer if indulged in too freely the War Office has -devised an effective counter-irritant, the scientific -wonder of the age, the soldier's friend and <i>multum in -parvo</i>—in short, the Respirator-Box. Here you will -observe I have a respirator-box as issued to the -troops. -</p> - -<p> -"There are other kinds with lace trimmings and -seasonable mottoes worked in coloured beads for the use -of the Staff; but they do not concern us. Let us now -examine the ordinary respirator-box. What do we -discover? A neat canvas satchel, knapsack or what-not, -which will be found invaluable for the storage of -personal knick-knacks, such as soap, knives and forks, socks, -iron rations, mouth-organs, field-marshal's batons, etc. -Within the satchel (what-not or knapsack) we discover -a rubber sponge-bag pierced with motor goggles, a -clothes-peg, a foot of garden hose, a baby's teether -(chewers among you will find this a comforting -substitute for gum), a yard or two of strong twine -(first-aid to the braces), a tube of Anti-Dimmer (use it as -tooth-paste, your smile will beam more brightly), and -a record card, on which you are invited to inscribe your -name, age, vote and clubs; your golf, polo and ludo -handicaps; complaints as to the cooking or service and -any sunny sentiments or epigrams that may occur to -you from time to time. -</p> - -<p> -"Should you be in the line and detect the presence of -hostile gas in large numbers your first action should -be to don your respirator-box and your second to give -the alarm. The donning of the respirator is done in -five motions by the best people:— -</p> - -<p> -"1. Remove the cigarette, chewing-gum or false -teeth from the mouth and place it (or them) behind the -ear (or ears). -</p> - -<p> -"2. Tear the sponge-bag out of the knapsack (what-not -or satchel) and slap it boldly on the face as you -would a mustard-plaster. -</p> - -<p> -"3. Pin it to your nose by means of the clothes-peg. -</p> - -<p> -"4. Work the elastics well into the back hair. -</p> - -<p> -"5. Swallow the teether and carry on with deep -breathing exercises, as done by Swedes, sea-lions and -such-like. -</p> - -<p> -"The respirator once in position, pass the good news -on to your comrades by performing <i>fortissimo</i> on one -of the numerous alarums with which every nice front -line is liberally provided. But please remember that -gas alarms are for gas only, and do not let your natural -exuberance or love of music carry you away, as it is -liable to create a false impression; witness the case of -some of our high-spirited Colonials, who, celebrating a -national festival (the opening of the whippet -racing-season in New South Wales) with a full orchestra of -Klaxon and Strombos horns, rattles, gongs, shell-cases, -tin-cans, sackbuts, psalteries and other instruments of -musick, sent every living soul in an entire army area -stampeding into their smell-hats, there to remain for -forty-eight hours without food, drink or benefit of -clergy. -</p> - -<p> -"Having given you full instructions as to the correct -method of entering your respirators I will now tell -you how to extricate yourselves. You must first be -careful to ascertain that there is no gas left about. -Tests are usually made (1) with a white mouse, (2) -with a canary. -</p> - -<p> -"If the white mouse turns green there is gas present; -if it don't there ain't. If the canary wags his tail and -whistles 'Gee! ain't it dandy down in Dixie!' all is -well, but if it wheezes 'The End of a Perfect Day' -and moults violently, beware, beware! If through the -negligence of the Quartermastering Department you -have not been equipped with either mice or canaries do -not start sniffing for gas yourselves, but remember that -your lives are of value to your King and country and -send for an officer. To have first sniff of all gas is one -of an officer's privileges; he hasn't many, but this is one -of them and very jealously guarded as such. If an -officer should catch you snuffing up all the gas in the -neighbourhood he will be justifiably annoyed and peevish. -</p> - -<p> -"Now; having given you all the theory of anti-gas -precautions, we will indulge in a little practice. When -I shout the word 'Gas!' my assistants will distribute -a few smoke bombs among you, and every man will don -his respirator in five motions and wend his way towards -the gas-chamber, entering it by the south door and -leaving it by the north. Is that quite clear? Then get -ready. Gas!" -</p> - -<p class="t3"> -* * * * * * * * -</p> - -<p> -Four or five N.C.O. Instructors suddenly pop up -out of the gravel pit and bombard the congregation with -hissing smoke grenades. The front ranks wake up, -spring to their feet in terror and leg it for safety at a -stretched gallop, shedding their respirators for lightness' -sake as they flee. The rear ranks, who, in spite of -themselves, have heard something of the lecture, burrow -laboriously into their masks. Some wear them as hats, -some as ear-muffs, some as chest-protectors. -</p> - -<p> -The smoke rolls over them in heavy yellow billows. -</p> - -<p> -Shadow shapes, hooded like Spanish inquisitors, may -be seen here and there crouched as in prayer, struggling -together or groping blindly for the way out. One -unfortunate has his head down a rabbit-hole, several -blunder over the edge of the gravel pit and are seen no -more. -</p> - -<p> -There is a noise of painful laboured breathing as of -grampuses in deep water or pigs with asthma. -</p> - -<p> -The starchy N.C.O. Instructors close on the helpless -mob and with muffled yelps and wild waving of arms -herd them towards the south door of the gas-chamber, -push them inside and shoot the bolts. -</p> - -<p> -The R.A.M.C. Orderlies are busy hauling the bodies -out of the north door, loading them on stretchers and -trotting them across to the cemetery, at the gates of -which stands the Base Burial Officer beaming welcome. -</p> - -<p> -The lecturer, seeing the game well in progress, lights -a pipe and strolls home to tea. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap28"></a></p> - -<h3> -XXVIII -<br /><br /> -THE CONVERT -</h3> - -<p> -I found No. 764, Trooper Hartley, W.J., in the -horse lines, sitting on a hay-bale perusing a letter -which seemed to give him some amusement. On seeing -me he arose, clicked his spurs and saluted. I returned -the salute, graciously bidding him carry on. We go -through the motions of officer and man very punctiliously, -William and I. In other days, in other lands, -our relative positions were easier. -</p> - -<p> -The ceremonies over I sat down beside him on the -hay-bale, and we became Bill and Jim to each other. -</p> - -<p> -"Did you ever run across Gustav Müller in the old -days?" William inquired, thumbing a fistful of dark -Magliesburg tobacco into his corn-cob incinerator. -"'Mafoota,' the niggers called him, a beefy man with -an underdone complexion." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," I said, "he turned up in my district on the -Wallaby in 1913 or thereabouts, with nothing in the -world but a topee, an army overcoat and a box of parlour -magic. Set up as a wizard in Chala's kraal. Used to -produce yards of ribbon out of the mouths of the -afflicted, and collapsible flower-pots out of their -nostrils—casting out devils, you understand. Was scratching -together a very comfortable practice; but he began to -dabble in black politics, so I moved him on. An -entertaining old rogue; I don't know what became of him." -</p> - -<p> -William winked at me through a cloud of blue -tobacco smoke. "I do. He went chasing a rainbow's -end North of the Lakes, and I went along with him. -You see, Gustav's great-aunt Gretchen appeared to him -in a dream and told him there was alluvial gold in a -certain river bed, tons of it, easy washing, so we went -after it. We didn't find it; but that's neither here nor -there; a man must take a chance now and again, and -this was the first time Gustav's great-aunt had let him -down. She'd given him the straight tip for two -Melbourne Cups and a Portugoose lottery in her time. -Some girl, great-aunt Gretchen! Anyway there was -Gustav and me away up at the tail-end of Nowhere, -with the boys yapping for six months' back pay, and we -couldn't have bought a feed of hay for a nightmare -between us. We just naturally had to do something, -so——" -</p> - -<p> -"So you just naturally took to poaching ivory," said -I. "I know you. Go on." -</p> - -<p> -William grinned. "Well, a man must live, you -know. How'msodever we struck a bonanza vein of -<i>m'jufu</i> right away and piled up the long white nuggets -in a way that would drive you to poetry. A Somali -Arab took the stuff from us on the spot, paying us in -cattle at a fifty-per-cent discount, which was reasonable -enough, seeing that he ran ninety per cent of the risks. -Everything sailed along like a beautiful dream. The -elephants was that tame they'd eat out of your hand, -and you could stroll out and bowl over a dozen of the -silly blighters before breakfast if you felt in the mood. -The police hadn't got our address as yet. The only -competitor that threatened got buckshot in his breeches, -which changed his mind and direction for him very -precipitous. The industry boomed and boomed. -</p> - -<p> -"'Another year of this,' says I to myself, 'and I'll -retire home and grow roses, drive a pony-trap and be a -churchwarden.' -</p> - -<p> -"Then one day the Arab headman blows into camp, -and squatting outside our tent, commences to lamentate -and pipe his eye in a way that would make you think -he'd ate a skinful of prickly pears. -</p> - -<p> -"'What's biting you, Bluebell?' I asked. -</p> - -<p> -"'<i>Allah akbar</i>! God is good but business is rotten,' -says he, and pitches a woeful yarn how that columns of -Askaris was marching thither and thence, poking their -flat noses in where they wasn't invited; Inglische -gunboats were riding every wave, scaring seven bells out of -the coast dhows, and consequently commerce was sent to -blazes and a poor man couldn't get an honest living -no-how. The long and short of it was that ivory smuggling -was off for the period of the War. -</p> - -<p> -"'What war, you scum?' says Gustav, pricking his -freckled ears. 'Who's warring?' -</p> - -<p> -"'The Inglische and Germans, of course,' says the -Arab. 'Didn't the B'wana know?' -</p> - -<p> -"'No, the B'wana doesn't,' says I; 'our private -Marconi outfit is broke down owing to the monkeys -swinging on the wires. Now trot home, you barbarous -ape, while me and my colleague throws a ray of pure -intellect on the problem. <i>Bassi</i>.' -</p> - -<p> -"So he soon dismisses at the double and is seen no -more in them vicinities. -</p> - -<p> -"'Well, partner,' says I to Gustav, 'this is a fair -knock-out—what?' -</p> - -<p> -"But Gustav, he grumbles something I couldn't -catch and walks off into the bush with his head down, -afflicted with thought. -</p> - -<p> -"He didn't come in for supper, so I scoffed his share -and turned in. -</p> - -<p> -"At moonrise I thought I heard a bull elephant -trumpeting like he was love-sick, but it wasn't. It was -Gustav coming home singing the <i>Wacht am Rhein</i>. He -brings up opposite my bed. -</p> - -<p> -"'Oh, give over and let the poor lions and leopards -snatch some sleep,' says I. -</p> - -<p> -"'I was born in Shermany,' says he. -</p> - -<p> -"'Don't let that keep you awake, ole man,' says I. -'What saith the prophet? "If a cat kittens on a -fish-plate they ain't necessarily herrings."' -</p> - -<p> -"'I'm a Sherman,' says he. -</p> - -<p> -"'You've been so long with white men that nobody'd -know it,' says I. 'Forget it, and I won't tell on you. -Why, you ain't seen Shermany these thirty years, and -you wouldn't know a squarehead if you was to trip over -one. Go to bed, Mr. Caruso.' -</p> - -<p> -"'Well, I'm going to be a mighty good Sherman -now, to make up for lost time,' says he grim-like, 'and -in case you got any objections I'll point out that you've -the double express proximitous to your stomach.' -</p> - -<p> -"He had me bailed up all right. Arguments weren't -no use with the cuss. 'I'm a Sherman' was all he'd -say; and next day we starts to hoof it to Germany -territory, me promenading in front calling Gustav every -name but his proper one, and him marching behind, -prodding me in the back with the blunderbuss. He -disenjoyed that trip even more than I did; he had to step -behind me all day for fear I'd dodge him into the bush; -and he sat up all night for fear the boys would rescue -me. He got as red-eyed as a bear and his figure dropped -off him in bucketfuls. -</p> - -<p> -"At the end of a month we crossed the border and hit -the trail of the Deutscher—burnt villages everywhere, -with the mutilated bodies of women and picaninnies -lying about, stakes driven through 'em, Waugh! -</p> - -<p> -"'Are you still a Sherman?' I asks; but Gustav -says nothing; he'd gone a bit white about the gills all -the same. Then one morning we tumbles into one of -their columns and the game is up. I was given a few -swipes with a <i>kiboko</i> for welcome and hauled before the -Commander, a little short cove with yellow hair, a -hand-carved jaw and spectacles. He diagnosed my case as -serious, prescribed me some more <i>kiboko</i>, and I was -hove into a grass hut under guard, pending the obsequies. -</p> - -<p> -"The Officers called Gustav a good sport, gave him -a six-by-four cigar and took him off to dinner. I noticed -he looked back at me once or twice. So I sits down in -the hut and meditates on some persons' sense of humour, -with a big Askari buck padding it up and down outside, -whiling away the sunny hours with a bit of disembowelling -practice on his bayonet. -</p> - -<p> -"A couple of days flits by while the column is away -spreading the good word with fire and stake. Then on -the third night I hears a scuffle outside the hut, and -the Askari comes somersaulting backwards through the -grass wall like as if an earthquake had butted him in the -brisket. He gave a couple of kicks and stretched out -like as if he was tired. -</p> - -<p> -"'Whist! Is that you, Bill?' comes a whisper -through the hole. -</p> - -<p> -"'What's left of me,' says I. 'Who are you?' -</p> - -<p> -"'Me—Gustav,' says the whisperer. -</p> - -<p> -"'What's the antic this time? Capturing me -again?' says I. -</p> - -<p> -"'No, I'm rescuing you now,' says he. -</p> - -<p> -"'The devil you are,' says I, and with that I glided -out through the hole and followed him on my stomach. -A sentry gave tongue at the scrub-edge, but Gustav rose -up out of the grass and bumped him behind the ear and -we went on. -</p> - -<p> -"'Well, you're a lovely quick-change artist, -capturing a bloke one moment and rescuing him the next,' -says I presently. 'What's come over you? Ain't you -a Sherman no more?' -</p> - -<p> -"Gustav groans as if his heart was broke. 'I've -been away thirty years. I didn't know they was like -that; I'd forgotten. Oh, my Gawd, what swine!' He -spits like a man that has bit sour beer, and we ran on -again." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"Didn't they chase you?" I asked. -</p> - -<p> -William nodded. -</p> - -<p> -"But they couldn't catch two old bush-bucks like us, -and the next day we fell in with a British column that -was out hunting them. 'Twas a merry meeting. Gustav -enlisted with the Britishers on the spot." -</p> - -<p> -William tapped the travel-soiled letter in his hand. -"This is from him. He's down in Nairobi, wounded. -He says he's sitting up taking nourishment, and that -great-aunt Gretchen has appeared to him again and -showed him a diamond pipe in the Khali Hari, which -will require a bit of looking into <i>après la guerre</i>—if -there ever is any <i>après</i>." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap29"></a></p> - -<h3> -XIX -<br /><br /> -A REST CURE -</h3> - -<p> -Not long ago a notice appeared in Part II Orders -to the effect that our Army had established a Rest -Home at X where invalid officers might be sent for a -week's recuperation. -</p> - -<p> -Now X is a very pleasant place, consisting of a crowd -of doll's-house châlets set between cool pine-woods and -the sea. -</p> - -<p> -The châlets are labelled variously "Villa des Roses," -"Les Hirondelles," "Sans Souci," and so on, and in -the summertimes of happier years swarmed with -comfortable bourgeois, bare-legged children and Breton -nannas; but in these stern days a board above the gate -of "Villa des Roses" announces that the Assistant-Director -of Agriculture may be found within meditating -on the mustard-and-cress crop, while "Les Hirondelles" -and "Sans Souci" harbour respectively the Base Press -Censor (whose tar-brush hovered over this perfectly -priceless article) and a platoon of the D.L.O.L.R.R.V.R. -(Duchess of Loamshire's Own Ladies' Rabbit Rearing -Volunteer Reserve). -</p> - -<p> -X, as I said before, is an exceedingly pleasant place; -you may lean out of the window o' mornings and watch -the D.L.O.L.R.R.V.R.'s Sergeant-Majoress putting her -platoon through Swedish monkey motions, and in the -afternoons you can recline on the sands and watch them -sporting in the glad sea-waves (telescopes protruding -from the upper windows of "Villa des Roses" and -"Sans Souci" suggesting that the A.D.A. and the -B.P.C. are similarly employed). -</p> - -<p> -The between-whiles may be spent lapping up ozone -from the sea, resin from the pine-woods, and champagne -cocktails which Marie-Louise mixes so cunningly in the -little café round the corner; and what with one thing -and another the invalid officer goes pig-jumping back to -the line fit to mince whole brigades of Huns with his -bare teeth. -</p> - -<p> -X, you will understand, is a very admirable institution, -and when we heard about this Rest Home we -were all for it and tried to cultivate fur on the tongue, -capped hocks and cerebral meningitis; but the Skipper -hardened his heart against us and there was nothing -doing. -</p> - -<p> -Then one morning MacTavish came over all dithery-like -in the lines, fell up against a post, smashed his -wrist-watch and would have brained himself had that -been possible. -</p> - -<p> -He picked himself up, apologised for making a fool -of himself before the horses, patched his scalp with -plaster from his respirator, borrowed my reserve watch -"Pretty Polly," and carried on. -</p> - -<p> -"Pretty Polly" can do two laps to any other -watch's one without turning a hair-spring. Externally -she looks very much like any other mechanical pup the -Ordnance sells you for eleven francs net; her secret -lies in her spring, which, I imagine, must have been -intended for "Big Ben," but sprang into the wrong chassis -by mistake. -</p> - -<p> -At all events as soon as it is wound up it lashes out -left and right with such violence that the whole machine -leaps with the shock of its internal strife and hops about -on the table after the manner of a Mexican dancing -bean, clucking like an ostrich that has laid twins. -</p> - -<p> -It will be gathered that my "Pretty Polly" is not -the ultimate syllable in the way of accuracy, but as -MacTavish seemed to want her and had been kind to me in -the way of polo-sticks, I handed her over without a -murmur. -</p> - -<p> -The same afternoon MacTavish came over dithery -again, dived into a heap of bricks and knocked himself -out for the full count. -</p> - -<p> -We put him to bed and signalled the Vet. The Vet -reported that MacTavish's temperature was well above -par and booming. He went on to state that MacTavish -was suffering from P.U.O. (which is Spanish for -"flu") and that he probably wouldn't weather the -night. -</p> - -<p> -The Skipper promptly 'phoned O.C. Burials, inviting -him to dine next evening, and Albert Edward wired his -tailor, asking what was being worn in headstones. -</p> - -<p> -William, our Mess President, took up a position by -the sick man's side in hopes he would regain consciousness -for long enough to settle his mess-bill, and the rest -of us spent the evening recalling memories of poor old -Mac, his many sterling qualities, etc. -</p> - -<p> -However, next morning a batman poked his head -into the Mess and said could Mr. MacTavish have a -little whisky, please, he was fancying it, and anyway -you couldn't force none of that there grool down him -not if you was to use a drenching bit. -</p> - -<p> -At noon the batman was back to say that Mr. MacTavish -was fancying a cigarette now, also a loan of the -gramophone and a few cheerful records. -</p> - -<p> -The Skipper promptly 'phoned postponing O.C. Burials, -and Albert Edward wired his tailor, changing -his order to that of a canary waistcoat. -</p> - -<p> -That evening MacTavish tottered into the Mess and -managed to surround a little soup, a brace of cutlets -and a bottle of white wine without coming over dithery -again. -</p> - -<p> -But for all that he was not looking his best; he -weaved in his walk, his eye was dull, his nose hot, his -ear cold and drooping, and the Skipper, gazing upon -him, remembered the passage in Part II Orders and -straightway sat down and applied that MacTavish be -sent to X at once, adding such a graphic pen-picture of -the invalid (most of it copied from a testimonial to -somebody's backache pills) as to reduce us to tears and -send MacTavish back to his bed badly shaken to hear -how ill he'd been. -</p> - -<p> -The Skipper despatched his pen-picture to H.Q. and -forgot all about it, and so did H.Q. apparently, for we -heard nothing further, and in due course forgot all about -it ourselves, and in the meanwhile MacTavish got back -into form, and MacTavish in form is no shrinking lily -be it said. -</p> - -<p> -He has a figure which tests every stitch in his Sam -Browne, a bright blue eye and a complexion which an -external application of mixed weather and an internal -application of tawny port has painted the hue of the -beetroot. -</p> - -<p> -Then suddenly, like a bomb from the blue, an ambulance -panted up to the door and presented a H.Q. chit -to the effect that the body of MacTavish be delivered -to it at once to bear off to X. -</p> - -<p> -The Skipper at the time was out hacking and Albert -Edward was in charge; he sent an orderly flying to -MacTavish, who rolled in from his tent singing "My -Friend John" at the top of his voice and looking more -like an over-fed beetroot than ever. -</p> - -<p> -"Dash it all, I don't want to go to their confounded -mortuary," he shouted; "never felt fitter in my life. I -can't go; I won't go!" -</p> - -<p> -"You'll have to," said Albert Edward; "can't let the -Skipper down after that pen-picture he wrote; the Staff -would never believe another word he said. No, -MacTavish, my son, you'll have to play the game and go." -</p> - -<p> -"But, you ass, look at him," wailed the Babe; "look -at his ruddy, ruby, tomato-ketchup, plum-and-apple -complexion. What are you going to do about that?" -</p> - -<p> -"I'll settle his complexion," replied Albert Edward -grimly; "tell his man to toss his tooth-brush into the -meat-waggon; and you, Mac, come with me." -</p> - -<p> -He led the violently protesting MacTavish into the -kitchen. The cook tells me Albert Edward pounded two -handfuls of flour into MacTavish's complexion and -filled his eye-sockets up with coal-dust, and I quite -believe the cook, for in five minutes' time I came on Albert -Edward dragging what I at first took to be the body of -a dead Pierrot down the passage towards the waiting -ambulance, at the same time exhorting it to play the -game and wobble for the Skipper's sake. -</p> - -<p> -The wretched MacTavish, choking with flour and -blinded with coal-dust, wobbled like a Clydesdale with -the staggers. -</p> - -<p> -I saw a scared R.A.M.C. orderly bound out of the -car and assist Albert Edward to hoist MacTavish -aboard, trip him up and pin him down on a stretcher. -Then the ambulance coughed swiftly out of sight. -</p> - -<p> -The allotted week passed but no MacTavish came -bounding back to us like a giant refreshed with great -draughts of resin, and we grew anxious; which anxiety -did not abate when, in reply to the Skipper's inquiries, -the Rest Home authorities wired denying all knowledge -of him. -</p> - -<p> -Goodness knows what we should have done if a letter -from MacTavish himself had not arrived next morning, -to say that he had lain on his back in the ambulance -digging coal-dust out of his eyes and coughing up flour till -the car stopped, not, to his surprise, at the Rest Home, -but at a Casualty Clearing Station. -</p> - -<p> -Some snuffling R.A.M.C. orderlies bore him tenderly -to a tent and a doctor entered, also snuffling. -MacTavish is of the opinion that the whole of the medical -staff had P.U.O., and the doctor was the sickest of the -lot and far from reliable. -</p> - -<p> -At all events, on seeing MacTavish's face, he -ejaculated a bronchial "Good Lord!" and tearing MacTavish's -tunic open, stuck a trumpet against his tummy and -listened for the ticks. -</p> - -<p> -Apparently he heard something sensational, for he -wheezed another "Good Lord!" and decorated -MacTavish with a scarlet label. -</p> - -<p> -Within an hour our hero found himself on board a -Red Cross train <i>en route</i> for the coast. -</p> - -<p> -There were a lot of cheerful wounded on the bus, -getting all the soup and jelly they wanted; but -MacTavish got only lukewarm milk and precious little of -that. From scraps of hushed conversation he caught -here and there he gathered that his life hung by a thread. -</p> - -<p> -He was feeling very bewildered and depressed, he -said, but, remembering his duty to the Skipper, played -the game and kept body and soul together on drips of -jelly surreptitiously begged from the cheerful wounded. -</p> - -<p> -Next morning he found himself in hospital in -England, where he still remains. He says he has been -promoted from warm milk to cold slops, but is still -liable to die at any moment, he understands. -</p> - -<p> -He has discovered that he was sent home with "galloping -heart disease," but nobody in the hospital can get -even a trot out of it, and boards of learned physicians -sit on him all day long, their trumpets planted on his -tummy listening for the ticks. -</p> - -<p> -MacTavish says he thinks it improbable that they -ever will hear any ticks now, for the excellent reason -that he threw the cause thereof—my "Pretty Polly," -to wit—out of the window the day he arrived. -</p> - -<p> -In a postscript he adds that he considers he has played -the game far enough, and that if the Skipper doesn't -come and bail him out soon he'll bite the learned -physicians, kiss the nurses, sing "My Friend John" and -disgrace the Regiment for ever. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap30"></a></p> - -<h3> -XXX -<br /><br /> -THE HARRIERS (I) -</h3> - -<p> -The Boche having lately done a retreat—"strategic -retirement," "tactical adjustment," "elastic -evasion," or whatever Ludendorff is calling it this -week—in plain words the Boche, having gloriously trotted -backwards off a certain slice of France, Albert Edward -and I found ourselves attached to a Corps H.Q. operating -in a wilderness of grass-grown fields, ruined villages -and smoking châteaux. -</p> - -<p> -One evening Albert Edward loitered up to the hen-house -I was occupying at the time and chatted to me -through the wires as I shaved. -</p> - -<p> -"Put up seventeen hares and ten covey of partridges -visiting outposts to-day—take my advice and scrap that -moustache while you're about it, it must be a heavy -drain on your system—and twenty hares and four covey -riding home. Do you find lathering the ears improves -their growth, or what?" -</p> - -<p> -"The country is crawling with game," said I, ignoring -his personalities, "and here we are hanging body -and soul together on bully and dog biscuit." -</p> - -<p> -"Exactly," said Albert Edward, "and in the meanwhile -the festive <i>lapin</i> breeds and breeds. Has it ever -occurred to you that, if something isn't done soon, we'll -have Australia's sad story over again here in Picardy? -Give the rabbits a chance and in no time they'll have -eaten off all the crops in France. Why, on the Burra -I've seen——" -</p> - -<p> -"One moment," said I; "if I listen to your South -Australian rabbit story again you've got to listen to -my South African locust yarn; it's only fair." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, shut up," Albert Edward growled; "can't you -understand this question is deadly serious?" -</p> - -<p> -"Best put the Tanks on to 'em then," I suggested; -"they'd enjoy themselves, and the Waterloo Cup -wouldn't be in it—Captain Monkey-Wrench's brindled -whippet, 'Sardine Tin,' 6 to 4; Major Spanner's 'Pig -Iron,' 7 to 2; even money the field." -</p> - -<p> -"Your humour is a trifle strained," said Albert Edward; -"if you're not careful you'll crack a joke at the -expense of a tendon one of these days." -</p> - -<p> -"Look here," said I, wiping the blood off my safety-razor, -"you're evidently struggling to give expression -to some heavy brain wave; out with it." -</p> - -<p> -"What about a pack of harriers?" said Albert Edward. -"There must be swarms of sportive tykes about, -faithful Fidos that have stuck to the dear old homestead -through thick and thin, also refugee animals that follow -the sweet-scented infantry cookers. I've got my old -hunting-horn; you've got your old crop; between the two -we ought to be able to mobilize 'em a bit and put the -wind up these darn hares. I'm going to try anyway. -I may say I look on it as a duty." -</p> - -<p> -"Looked on in that light it's a sacred duty," said -I; "and—er—incidentally we might reap a haunch of -hare out of it now and again, mightn't we?" -</p> - -<p> -"Incidentally, yes," said Albert Edward, "and a -trifle of sport into the bargain—incidentally." -</p> - -<p> -So we set about collecting a pack there and then by -offering our servants five francs per likely dog and no -questions asked. -</p> - -<p> -No questions were asked, but I have a strong suspicion -that our gentlemen were up all night and that there -were dark deeds done in the dead of it, for the very next -evening my groom and countryman presented us with a -bill for forty-five francs. -</p> - -<p> -The dogs, he informed us, were kennelled "in a little -shmall place the like of an ice-house" at the northern -extremity of the château grounds, and that "anyway a -blind man himself couldn't miss them wid the screechin' -an' hollerin' they are afther raisin' be dint of the -confinement." -</p> - -<p> -I had an appointment with the Q. Staff (to explain -why I had indented for sixty-four horse rations while -only possessing thirty-two horses, the excuse that they -all enjoyed very healthy appetites apparently not -sufficing), so Albert Edward went forth to inspect the -pack alone. -</p> - -<p> -He came into Mess very late, looking hot and dishevelled. -</p> - -<p> -"My word, they've looted a blooming menagerie," -he panted in my ear; "still, couldn't expect to pick -Pytchley puppies off every bush, I suppose." -</p> - -<p> -"What have they got, actually?" I inquired. -</p> - -<p> -"Two couple of Belgian light-draught dogs—you -know, the kind they hitch on to any load too heavy for -a horse—an asthmatic beagle, an anæmic bloodhound, -a domesticated wolf, an unfrocked poodle, and a sort -of dropsical pug." -</p> - -<p> -"What on earth is the pug for?" I asked. -</p> - -<p> -"Luck," said Albert Edward. "Your henchman -says 'them kind of little dogs do be bringing ye luck,' -and backs it up with a very convincing yarn of an -uncle of his in Bally-something who had a lucky dog—'as -like this wan here as two spits, except maybe for -the least little curliness of the tail'—which provided -complete immunity from ghosts, witches' evil and -ingrowing toe-nails. I thought it cheap at five francs." -</p> - -<p> -"But, good Lord, that lot'll never hunt hares," I -protested. -</p> - -<p> -"Won't they?" said Albert Edward grimly. "With -the only meal they'll ever see prancing along in front -of them, and you and me prancing along behind scourging -'em with scorpions, I rather fancy they will. By -the way, I know you won't mind, but I've had to shift -your bed out under the chestnut-tree; it's really quite a -good tree as trees go." -</p> - -<p> -"But why can't I stop in my hen-house?" I objected. -</p> - -<p> -"Because I've just moved the pack there," said he. -</p> - -<p> -"But why?" I went on. "What's the matter with -the ice-house?" -</p> - -<p> -"That's just it," he hissed in my ear; "it isn't an -ice-house—never was; it's the De Valcourt family -vault." -</p> - -<p> -The next day being propitious, we decided to hold our -first meet that evening, and issued a few invitations. -The Veterinary Bloke and the Field Cashier promised -to show up, likewise the Padre, once the sacredness of -our cause had been explained to him. -</p> - -<p> -At noon "stables" Albert Edward reported the pack -in fine fettle. "Kicking up a fearful din and look -desperate enough to hunt a holy angel," said he. "At -five o'clock, me lad, Hard forrard! Tally-ho! and -Odds-boddikins!" -</p> - -<p> -However at 4.45 p.m., just as I was mounting, he -appeared in my lines wearing slacks and a very -downcast expression. -</p> - -<p> -"Wash-out," he growled; "they've been fed and -are now lying about, blown up and dead to the -world." -</p> - -<p> -"But who the devil fed them?" I thundered. -</p> - -<p> -"They fed themselves," said Albert Edward. "They -ate the blooming lucky dog at half-past four." -</p> - -<p> -We therefore postponed the hunt until the morrow; -but cannibalism (so cannibals assure me), once indulged -in, becomes as absorbing as morphia or jig-saws, and -at two-fifteen the next afternoon my groom reported the -beagle to have gone the way of the pug, and the pack -once more dead to the world. -</p> - -<p> -There was nothing for it but to postpone the show -yet again, and tie up each hound separately as a -precaution against further orgies. -</p> - -<p> -However it seemed to have become a habit with -them, for the moment they were unleashed on the -evening of the third day they turned as one dog upon the -poodle. -</p> - -<p> -I wiped the bloodhound's nose for him with a deft -swipe of my whip lash, and Albert Edward's charger -anchored the domesticated wolf by treading firmly on its -tail, all of which served to give the fugitive a few -seconds' start; and then a wave of mad dog dashed -between our horses' legs and was on his trail screaming -for gore. -</p> - -<p> -The poodle heard the scream and did not dally, but -got him hence with promptitude and agility. He -streaked across the orchard, leading by five lengths; but -the good going across the park reduced his advantage. -He dived through the fence hard pressed and, with the -bloodhound's hot breath singeing his tail feathers, leaped -into the back of a large farm-cart which happened, -providentially for him, to be meandering down the broad -highway. -</p> - -<p> -In the shafts of the cart was a sleepy fat Percheron -mare. On the seat was a ponderous farmeress, -upholstered in respectable black and crowned with a bead -bonnet. They were probably making a sentimental -excursion to the ruins of their farm. I know not; but I -do know that the fat mare was suddenly shocked out of a -pleasant drowse to find herself the centre of a frenzied -pack of wolves, bloodhounds and other dog-hooligans, -and, not liking the look of things, promptly bolted. -</p> - -<p> -Albert Edward and I dropped over the low hedge -to see the cart disappearing down the road in a whirl -of dust pursued by our vociferous harriers. -</p> - -<p> -The fat farmeress, her bonnet wobbling over one ear, -was tugging manfully at the reins and howling to Saint -Lazarus of Artois to put on the brakes. Over the tail-board -protruded the head of the poodle, yelping derision -at his baffled enemies. -</p> - -<p> -People will tell you Percherons cannot gallop; can't -they? Believe me that grey mare flitted like a startled -gazelle. At all events she was too good for our pack, -whom we came upon a mile distant, lying on their backs -in a ditch, too exhausted to do anything but put their -tongues out at us, while far away we could see a small -cloud of dust careering on towards the horizon. -</p> - -<p> -"God help the Traffic Controlman at the next -corner," Albert Edward mused; "he'll never know -what struck him. Well, that was pretty cheery while -it lasted, what? To see that purler the Padre took over -the garden-wall was alone worth the money." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, well, I suppose we'd best herd these perishers -home to kennels while they're still too weak to protest. -Come on." -</p> - -<p> -"And in the meanwhile the festive <i>lapin</i> breeds and -breeds," said Albert Edward. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap31"></a></p> - -<h3> -XXXI -<br /><br /> -THE HARRIERS (II) -</h3> - -<p> -Albert Edward and I were seated on a log -outside the hen-house which kennelled our pack when -we perceived Algy, the A.D.C., tripping daintily -towards us. Albert Edward blew a kiss. "Afternoon, -Algy. How <i>chit</i> he looks in his pink and all! Tell me, -do people ever mistake you for a cinema attendant and -give you pennies?" -</p> - -<p> -"Afternoon, Algy," said I. "Been spending a -strenuous morn carrying the old man's respirator—with -his lunch inside?" -</p> - -<p> -For answer Algy tipped me backwards off the log, -and sitting down in my place, contemplated our hounds -for some seconds. -</p> - -<p> -"And are these the notorious Hare-'em Scare-'ems?" -he inquired. -</p> - -<p> -I nodded. "Yessir; absolutely the one and only pack -of harriers operating in the war zone. Guaranteed -gun-broke, shell-shocked, shrapnel-pitted and bullet-bitten." -</p> - -<p> -Algy sniffed. "What's that big brute over in the -corner, he of the crumpled face and barbed smile? -Looks like a bloodhound." -</p> - -<p> -"Is a bloodhound," said Albert Edward. "If you -don't believe me step inside and behave like raw rump -steak for a moment." -</p> - -<p> -Algy pointed his cane. "And that creature -industriously delousing itself? That's a wolf, of -course?" -</p> - -<p> -"Its wolfery is only skin-deep," said I. "A grey -gander all but annihilated it yesterday. In my opinion -it's a sheep in wolf's clothing." -</p> - -<p> -Algy wagged his cane, indicating the remaining two -couples. -</p> - -<p> -"And these? What breed would you call them?" -</p> - -<p> -Albert Edward grunted. "You could call them any -breed you like and be partly right. We've named them -'The Maconochies,' which, being interpreted, meaneth a -little of everything." -</p> - -<p> -"And how many hares have you killed?" Algy inquired. -</p> - -<p> -"We haven't exactly killed any as yet," said I, -"but we've put the breeze up 'em; their <i>moral</i> is very -low." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, my bold Nimrods," said Algy, "I'm sorry -to say the game is up." -</p> - -<p> -"What do you mean by 'game'?" objected Albert -Edward. "I've told you before that this is a serious -attempt to avert a plague of rodents. Why, in Australia -I've seen——" -</p> - -<p> -Algy held up his hand. -</p> - -<p> -"I know, I know. But some people who have not -enjoyed your harrowing Colonial experience are a trifle -sceptical. Listen. Last evening, as I was driving home -with the old man through Vaux-le-Tour, whom should I -see but you two sportsmen out on the hillside riding -down a hare, followed at some distance by three mounted -bargees——" -</p> - -<p> -"The Padre, the Field Cashier and O.C. Bugs," -Albert Edward explained. "We're making men of -'em. Go on." -</p> - -<p> -—"followed at a still greater distance," continued -Algy, "by a raging band of mongrels. By the way, -don't you get your hunt the wrong way round, the cart -before the horse, so to speak? I always thought it -customary for the hounds to go first." -</p> - -<p> -"In some cases the hare wouldn't know it was being -hunted if they did," said I. "This is one of them. -Forge ahead." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, so far so good; the old gent was drowsing in -his corner and there was no harm done." -</p> - -<p> -"So you gave him a dig in the ribs, I suppose, and -bleated, 'Oh, look at naughty boys chasing ickle bunny -wabbit!'" sneered Albert Edward. -</p> - -<p> -Algy wagged his head. "Not me. You woke him -up yourself, my son, by tootling on your little tin -trumpet. He heard it through his dreams, shot up -with a 'Good Lord, what's that?' popped his head -out of the window and saw the brave cavalcade -reeling out along the sky-line like a comic movie. -He drank in the busy scene, then turned to me and -said——" -</p> - -<p> -Albert Edward interrupted. "I know exactly what -he said. He said, 'Algy, me boy, that's the spirit. -<i>Vive le sport</i>! How it reminds us of our young days in -the Peninsular! Oft-times has our cousin of Wellington -remarked to us how Waterloo was won on the playing——'" -</p> - -<p> -Algy cut off the flow and continued with his piece. -"He said to me, 'God bless my soul, if those young -devils aren't galloping a hare!' I said, 'Sir, they -maintain that they are doing good work by averting a -threatened plague of rodents, a state of affairs which has -proved very detrimental to the Anti-podes.' -</p> - -<p> -"'Threatened plague of grandmothers!' replied the -old warrior. 'They're enjoying themselves, that's what -they're doing—having a splendid time. Mind you, -I've no objection to you young chaps amusing yourselves -<i>in secret</i>, but this is too damn flagrant altogether. -Just imagine the hullabaloo in the House if word of -these goings-on got home. "B.E.F. enjoying themselves! -Don't they know there's a war on? <i>Cherchez -le général</i> and off with his head!" Trot round and see -your dog-fancying friends and tell 'em that if they're -fond of good works I recommend crochet.' Thus the -General. I must be off now, got to take the old bird up -to have a peep at the War. Good-byee." -</p> - -<p> -Algy tripped daintily off home again, twirling his -cane and whistling cheerfully. Sourly we watched him -depart. -</p> - -<p> -"I believe that youth positively revels in spreading -gloom," Albert Edward growled. "Oh, well, I suppose -we'll have to get rid of the dogs now. Orders is -orders." -</p> - -<p> -"But do you think they'll go?" I asked. "We've -been feeding 'em occasionally of late." -</p> - -<p> -"We'll herd 'em down to where they can get wind -of the infantry cookers," said Albert Edward; "once -they sniff the rare old stew they'll forget all about us." -</p> - -<p> -Accordingly an hour later we released our pack from -the hen-house for the last time. They immediately gave -chase to an errant tabby kitten, which threw off a noise -like many siphons and shot up a tree, baffling them -completely. We speedily herded them out of the -château grounds, Albert Edward ambling in front, -wringing mournful music out of his horn, and I -bringing up the rear, snapping my whip-cracker under the -sterns of the laggards. We had no sooner left the park -for the open grass country beyond when up jumped a -buck hare, right from under our feet, and away went -the pack rejoicing, bass and falsetto. -</p> - -<p> -Albert Edward tugged his excited mare to a standstill. -"Look at those blighters!" he shouted. "Hunting noses -down in pukka style for the first time, just because they -know we can't follow them. Oh, this is too much!" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't see why we shouldn't follow them at a -distance," said I. "We can pretend there's no -connection—there is no connection really, we didn't lay -'em on. They're hunting on their own. We're just out -for a ride." -</p> - -<p> -Albert Edward winked an eye at me and gave his -mare her head. The pack by this time was well across -the plain, the wolf leading, noisily supported by the -Maconochies and the bloodhound. Thrice the hare -turned clear and squatted, but, thanks to the blood dog's -infallible nose, he was ousted each time and pushed on, -failing visibly. He made a sharp curve towards the -windmill, and Albert Edward and I topped the miller's -fence in time to see the Maconochies roll him over among -the weeds. We also saw something on the highway -behind the mill which we had not previously noticed, -namely a grey Limousine. On a fallen tree by the wayside -sat the General, his face as highly coloured as his -hat. Towards us down the garden-path tripped Algy, -twirling his cane and whistling cheerily. Albert -Edward groaned. -</p> - -<p> -"Something in the demeanour of yon youth tells -me he beareth our death-warrants. Here, you hold the -horses while I feed the guillotine. This is by far, far -the best thing that I have ever done." -</p> - -<p> -He slung his reins and tottered to his doom. I -watched him approach within five yards of the old man -when a strange thing happened. The General suddenly -uttered a loud cry and, leaping to his feet, commenced -to dance up and down the road, tearing and belabouring -himself and swearing so outrageously that I had -difficulty in holding the horses. His chauffeur and Algy -rushed to his side, and they and Albert Edward grouped -in a sympathetic circle while he danced and raved and -beat himself in their midst. Presently the air seemed -to be full of flying tunics, shirts, camisoles, etc., and a -second later I beheld the extraordinary spectacle of a -Lieutenant-General dancing practically nude (expecting -for his cap and boots) in the middle of a French -highway, while two subalterns and a private smacked him -all over, and most heartily. For nearly a minute it -continued, and then he seemed to get himself under -control and was led away by Algy to his car, the chauffeur -following, retrieving apparel off trees and bushes. -Albert Edward, one quivering smirk, wobbled up and -took his reins. "By Jove! saved again. He can't very -well bite the hand that spanked him, can he?" -</p> - -<p> -"But what on earth was the matter?" I asked. "A -fit, religious mania, a penance—what?" -</p> - -<p> -"He sat on a waspodrome," said Albert Edward, -"and they got on his tail." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap32"></a></p> - -<h3> -XXXII -<br /><br /> -THE CAMERA CANNOT LIE -</h3> - -<p> -When I was young I was extremely handsome. -I have documentary evidence to prove as much. -There is in existence a photograph of a young gentleman -standing with his back to a raging seascape, one -hand resting lightly on a volume of Shakespeare, which -in turn is supported by a rustic table. The young -gentleman has wide innocent eyes, a rosebud mouth -and long golden curls (the sort poor dear old Romney -used to do so nicely). For the rest he is tastefully -upholstered in a short-panted velvet suit, a lace collar -and white silk socks. "<i>Little Lord Fauntleroy</i>," you -murmur to yourself. No, Sir (or Madam), it is ME—or -was me, rather. When I was young no girl thought -herself properly married unless I was present at the -ceremony, got up like a prize rabbit and tethered to the -far end of her train. Nowadays I am not so handsome. -True, you can urge a horse past me without blindfolding -it and all that, but nobody ever mistakes me for Maxine -Elliott. -</p> - -<p> -Personally I was quite willing to be represented at -the National Portrait Gallery by a coloured copy of the -presentment described above, but my home authorities -thought otherwise, and when last I was in England on -leave—shortly after the Battle of Agincourt—they -shooed me off to Valpré. "Go to Valpré," they said; -"he is so artistic." So to Valpré I went, and -was admitted by a handmaid who waved a white hand -vaguely towards a selection of doors, murmuring, "Wait -there, please." I opened the nearest door at a venture -and entered. -</p> - -<p> -In the waiting-room three other handmaids were at -work on photographs. One was painting dimples on a -lady's cheek; one filling in gaps in a Second-Lieutenant's -moustache; one straightening the salient of a stockbroker's -waistcoat. Presently the first handmaid reappeared -and somewhat curtly (I was waiting in the -wrong room, it seemed) informed me that the Master -was ready. So I went upstairs to the operating theatre. -After an impressive interval a curtain was thrust aside -and the Master entered. He was not in the least like the -artist of my first photograph, who had chirruped and -done tricks with an indiarubber monkey to make me -prick my ears and appear sagacious. This man had the -mane of a poodle, a plush smoking-jacket with rococo -trimmings, satin cravat, rings and bangles like the lads -in <i>La Bohème</i>, and I knew myself to be in the presence -of True Art, and bowed my head. -</p> - -<p> -At the sight of me he winced visibly; didn't seem to -like my looks at all. However he pulled himself together -and advanced to reconnoitre. He pushed me into a -chair, manipulated some screws at the back, and I found -my head fast in a steel clamp. I pleaded for gas or -cocaine, but he took no notice and prowled off to the -far end of the theatre to observe if distance would lend -any enchantment. Apparently it would not. The more -he saw of me the less he seemed to admire the view. -</p> - -<p> -Suddenly the fire of inspiration lit his eye and he -came for me. I struggled with the clamp, but it clave -like a bull-terrier to a mutton chop. In a moment -he had me by the head and started to mould it -nearer to his heart's desire with plump powerful hands. -He crammed half my lower jaw into my breast pocket, -pinned my ears back so tightly that they wouldn't wag -for weeks, pressed my nose down with his thumb as -though it were the button of an electric bell and -generally kneaded my features from the early Hibernian to -the late Græco-Roman. Then, before they could -rebound to their normal positions, he had sprung back, -jerked the lanyard and fired the camera. -</p> - -<p> -Some weeks later the finished photographs arrived. -The handmaids had done their bit, and the result was a -pleasing portraiture, an <i>objet d'art</i>, an ornament to -anybody's family album. The man Valpré was an artist -all right. -</p> - -<p> -A few days ago the Skipper whistled me into the -orderly room. His table was littered with parade states, -horse-registers and slips of cardboard, all intermingled. -The Skipper himself appeared to be undergoing some -heavy mental disturbance. His forehead was furrowed, -his toupet rumpled, and he sucked his fountain-pen, -unconsciously imbibing much dark nourishment. -</p> - -<p> -"Identification cards," he explained, indicating the -slips. "Got to carry 'em now. Comply with Italian -regulations. Been trying to describe you. Napoo." -He prodded the result towards me. I scanned it and -decided he had got it mixed with horse-registers. It -read as follows:— -</p> - -<pre> - Born . . . . . . . Yes. - Height . . . . . . 17 hands. - Hair . . . . . . . Bay. - Eyes . . . . . . . Two. - Nose . . . . . . . Undulating. - Moustache . . . . Hogged. - Complexion . . . . Natural. - Special Marks . . -</pre> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -The Skipper pointed to the blank space. "That's -what I want to know—special marks. Got any? Snip, -blaze, white fetlock, anything?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yessir," said I. "Strawberry patch on off gaskin." -</p> - -<p> -He sucked thoughtfully at his fountain-pen. -"Mmph," he said, "shouldn't mention it if I were you. -Don't want to have to undress in the middle of the -street every time you meet an Intelligence, do you?" I -agreed that I did not—not before June, anyhow. The -Skipper turned to the card again and frowned. -</p> - -<p> -"Couldn't call it a speaking likeness exactly, this -little pen-picture of you, could one? If you only had -a photograph of yourself now." -</p> - -<p> -"I have, Sir," said I brightly. -</p> - -<p> -"Good Lord, man, why didn't you say so before? -Here, take this and paste the thing in. Now trot away." -</p> - -<p> -I trotted away and pasted Valpré's <i>objet d'art</i> on to -the card. -</p> - -<p> -Yesterday evening Albert Edward and I were riding -out of a certain Italian town (no names, no pack drill). -Albert Edward got involved in a right-of-way argument -between five bullock wagons and two lorries, and I -jogged on ahead. On the fringe of the town was a -barrier presided over by a brace of Carabinieri caparisoned -with war material, whiskers and cocked hats of the style -popularised by Bonaparte. Also an officer. As I moved -to pass the barrier the officer spied me and, not liking -my looks (as I hinted before, nobody does), signed to -me to halt. Had I an identification card, please? I -had and handed it to him. He took the card and ran a -keen eye over the Skipper's little pen-picture and -Valpré's "Portrait Study," then over their alleged -original. "Lieutenant," said he grimly, "these don't -tally. This is not you." -</p> - -<p> -I protested that it was. He shook his head with great -conviction, "Never! The nose in this photograph is -straight; the ears retiring; the jaw, normal. While with -you—— [Continental politeness restrained him]. -Lieutenant, you must come with me." -</p> - -<p> -He beckoned to a Napoleonic corporal, who approached, -clanking his war material. I saw myself -posed for a firing squad at grey dawn and shivered all -over. I detest early rising. -</p> - -<p> -By this time the corporal had outflanked me, clanking -more munitions, and I was on the point of being -marched off to the Bastille, or whatever they call it, -when Albert Edward suddenly insinuated himself into -the party and addressed himself to the officer. "Half -a minute, Mongsewer [any foreigner is Mongsewer to -Albert Edward]. The photograph is of him all right, -but it was taken before his accident." -</p> - -<p> -"His accident?" queried the officer. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," said Albert Edward; "sad affair, shell-shock. -A crump burst almost in his face, and shocked it all out -of shape. Can't you see?" -</p> - -<p> -The Italian leaned forward and subjected my flushed -features to a piercing scrutiny; then his dark eyes -softened almost to tears, and he handed me back my -card and saluted. -</p> - -<p> -"Sir, you have my apologies—and sympathy. Good -evening." -</p> - -<p> -"Albert Edward," said I, as we trotted into the -dusk, "you may be a true friend but you are no -gentleman." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap33"></a></p> - -<h3> -XXXIII -<br /><br /> -LIONEL TRELAWNEY -</h3> - -<p> -Lionel Trelawney Molyneux-Molyneux -was of the race of the Beaux. Had he -flourished in the elegant days, Nash would have taken -snuff with him, D'Orsay wine—no less. As it was, -the high priests of Savile Row made obeisance before -him, the staff of the <i>Tailor and Cutter</i> penned leaders -on his waistcoats, and the lilies of the field whined -"Kamerad" and withered away. -</p> - -<p> -When war broke out Lionel Trelawney issued from -his comfortable chambers in St. James's and took a -hand in it. He had no enthusiasm for blood-letting. -War, he maintained from the first, was a vulgar pastime, -a comfortless revolting state of affairs which bored one -stiff, forced one to associate with all sorts of impossible -people and ruined one's clothes. Nevertheless the -West-end had to be saved from an invasion of elastic-sided -boots, celluloid dickeys, Tyrolese hats and musical -soup-swallowing. That was <i>his</i> war-aim. -</p> - -<p> -Through the influence of an aunt at the War Office -he obtained a commission at once, and after a month's -joining-leave (spent closeted with his tailor) he -appeared, a shining figure, in the Mess of the Loamshire -Light Infantry and with them adventured to Gallipoli. -It is related that during the hell of that first landing, -when boats were capsizing, wounded men being dragged -under by tentacles of barbed wire, machine-guns -whipping the sea to bloody froth, Lionel Trelawney was -observed standing on a prominent part of a barge, his -eye-glass fixed on his immaculate field boots, petulantly -remarking, "And now, damn it, I suppose I've got to get -wet!" -</p> - -<p> -After the evacuation the battalion went to France, -but not even the slush of the salient or the ooze of -Festubert could dim his splendour. Whenever he got -a chance he sat down, cat-like, and licked himself. -Wherever he went his batman went also, hauling a -sackful of cleaning gear and changes of raiment. On one -occasion, hastening to catch the leave train, he spurred -his charger into La Bassée Canal. He emerged, like -some river deity, profusely decorated in chick-weed, his -eyeglass still in his eye ("Came up like a blinking -U-boat," said a spectator, "periscope first"), footed it -back to billets and changed, though it cost him two days -of his leave. -</p> - -<p> -He was neither a good nor a keen officer. He was -not frightened—he had too great a contempt for war -to admit the terror of it—but he gloomed and brooded -eternally and made no effort to throw the faintest -enthusiasm into his job. Yet for all that the Loamshires -suffered him. He had his uses—he kept the men -amused. In that tense time just before an attack, when -the minute hand was jerking nearer and nearer to zero, -when nerves were strung tight and people were sending -anxious inquiries after Lewis guns, S.A.A., stretchers, -bombs, etc., Lionel Trelawney would say to his batman, -"Have you got the boot and brass polish, the Blanco, -the brushes? Sure?" (a sigh of relief). "Very well, -now we'll be getting on," and so would send his lads -scrambling over the parapet grinning from east to west. -</p> - -<p> -"Where's ole Collar and Cuffs?" some muddy warrior -would shout after a shrieking tornado of shell had -swept over them. "Dahn a shell-hole cleanin' his -teef," would come the answer, and the battered platoon -chuckled merrily. "'E's a card, 'e is," said his -Sergeant admiringly. "Marched four miles back to billets -in 'is gas-mask, perishin' 'ot, all because he'd lost 'is -razor an' 'adn't shaved for two days. 'E's a nut 'e is -and no error." -</p> - -<p> -It happened that the Loamshires were given a job -of crossing Mr. Hindenburg's well-known ditch and -taking a village on the other side. A company of tanks, -which came rolling out of the dawn-drizzle, spitting fire -from every crack, put seven sorts of wind up the -Landsturmer gentlemen in possession; and the Loamshires, -getting their first objectives with very light casualties, -trotted on for their second in high fettle, sterns up and -wagging proudly. The tanks went through the village -knocking chips off the architecture and pushing over -houses that got in the way; and the Loamshires followed -after, distributing bombs among the cellars. -</p> - -<p> -The consolidation was proceeding when Lionel -Trelawney sauntered on the scene, picking his way -delicately through the débris of the main street. He -lounged up to a group of Loamshire officers, yawned, -told them how tired he was, cursed the drizzle for -dimming his buttons and strolled over to a dug-out with the -object of sheltering there. He got no further than the -entrance, for as he reached it a wide-eyed German came -scrambling up the steps and collided with him, bows on. -For a full second the two stood chest to chest gaping, -too surprised to move. Then the Hun turned and -bolted. But this time Lionel Trelawney was not too -bored to act. He drew his revolver and rushed after him -like one possessed, firing wildly. Two shots emptied a -puddle, one burst a sandbag, one winged a weather-cock -and one went just anywhere. His empty revolver caught -the flying Hun in the small of the back as he vaulted -over a wall; and Lionel Trelawney vaulted after him. -</p> - -<p> -"Molly's gone mad," shouted his amazed brother-officers -as they scrambled up a ruin for a better view -of the hunt. The chase was proceeding full-cry among -the small gardens of the main street. It was a stirring -spectacle. The Hun was sprinting for dear life, Lionel -Trelawney hard on his brush, yelping like a frenzied -fox-terrier. They plunged across tangled beds, crashed -through crazy fences, fell head over heels, picked -themselves up again and raced on, wheezing like punctured -bagpipes. -</p> - -<p> -Heads of Atkinses poked up everywhere. "S'welp -me if it ain't ole Collar and Cuffs! Go it, Sir, that's -the stuff to give 'em!" A Yorkshireman opened a book -and started to chant the odds, but nobody paid any -attention to him. The Hun, badly blown, dodged inside -a shattered hen-house. Lionel Trelawney tore up -handfuls of a ruined wall and bombed him out of it with -showers of brickbats. Away went the chase again, -cheered by shrill yoicks and cat-calls from the spectators. -</p> - -<p> -Suddenly there was an upheaval of planks and brick-dust, -and both runners disappeared. -</p> - -<p> -"Gone to ground, down a cellar," exclaimed the -brother-officers. "Oh, look! Fritz is crawling out." -</p> - -<p> -The white terrified face of the German appeared on -the ground level, then with a wriggle (accompanied by -a loud noise of rending material) he dragged his body -up and was on his way once more. A second later -Lionel Trelawney was up as well, waving a patch of grey -cloth in his hand. "Molly's ripped the seat out of his -pants," shouted the grand-stand. "Yow, tear 'm, -Pup!" "Good ole Collar and Cuffs!" chorused the -Loamshire Atkinses. -</p> - -<p> -Lionel Trelawney responded nobly; he gained one -yard, two yards, five, ten. The Hun floundered into a -row of raspberry canes, tripped and wallowed in the -mould. Trelawney fell on him like a Scot on a three-penny -bit and they rolled out of sight locked in each -other's embrace. -</p> - -<p> -The Loamshires jumped down from their crazy -perches and doubled to see the finish, guided by the -growlings, grunts, crashing of raspberry canes and jets -of garden mould flung sky-high. They were too late, -however. They met the victor propelling the remains of -the vanquished up a lane towards them. His fawn -breeches were black with mould, his shapely tunic -shredded to ribbons; his sleek hair looked like a -bird's-nest; his nose listed to starboard; one eye bulged like -a shuttered bow-window; his eye-glass was not. But the -amazing thing about it was that he didn't seem to mind; -he beamed, in fact, and with a cheery shout to his -friends—"Merry little scamper—eh, what?"—he drop-kicked -his souvenir a few yards further on, exclaiming, -"That'll teach you to slop soup over my shirt-front, -you rude fellow!" -</p> - -<p> -"Soup over your shirt-front!" babbled the -Loamshires. "What are you talking about?" -</p> - -<p> -"Talking about?" said Lionel Trelawney. "Why, -this arch-ruffian used to be a waiter at Claritz's, and he -shed mulligatawny all over my glad-rags one night three -years ago—aggravated me fearfully." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap34"></a></p> - -<h3> -XXXIV -<br /><br /> -THE BOOBY TRAP -</h3> - -<p> -A generous foe, the soul of chivalry, I am -always ready to admit that the Boche has many -good points. For instance, he is—er—er—oh, well, I -can't think of any particular good point just for the -moment. On the other hand, it must be admitted that -he has his bad ones also, and one of these is that he -cannot stand success; he is the world's worst winner. -</p> - -<p> -Never does he pull off one of these "victorious -retreats" of his but he needs must spoil the effect by -leaving behind all sorts of puerile booby traps, -butter-slides, etc., for the annoyance of the on-sweeping -vanquished, displaying a state of mind which is usually -slippered out of one at a dame school. -</p> - -<p> -Most of his practical jokes are of the fifth of -November order and detonate by means of a neat arrangement -of springs, wire and acid contained in a small metal -cylinder. -</p> - -<p> -You open a door and the attached house blows away -all round it, leaving the door in your damaged hand. -You step on a duckboard; something goes bang! and the -duckboard ups and hits you for a boundary to -leg—and so on, all kinds of diversions. -</p> - -<p> -Of course you don't really open doors and prance -on duckboards; that's only what he (Jerry) in his -simple faith imagines you will do. In reality you revive -memories of the days when as a small boy you tied -trip-strings in dark passages and balanced water-jugs on -door-tops; and all the Boche's elementary parlour-tricks -immediately become revealed unto you. -</p> - -<p> -Not long ago the Hun, thirsting for yet more -imperishable laurels, made a sudden masterly manoeuvre -towards the East. Our amateur Staff instantly fell into -the trap, and when battle joined again we found we -had been lured twenty miles nearer Germany. -</p> - -<p> -The Hun had not left things very comfortable for -us; most of the cover had been blown up, and there was -the usual generous provision of booby traps lying about -dumbly pleading to be touched off. However, we -sheltered in odd holes and corners, scrounged about for -what we could "souvenir" and made ourselves as snug -as possible. -</p> - -<p> -It was while riding out alone on one of these souveniring -expeditions that our William came upon a chaff-cutter -standing in what had once been the stable yard of -what had once been a château. Now to a mounted unit -a chaff-cutter is a thing of incredible value. It is to us -what a mincing-machine is to the frugal housewife. -</p> - -<p> -Our own cutter was with the baggage, miles away in -the rear, and likely to remain there. -</p> - -<p> -William slipped off his horse and approached the -thing gingerly. It was a Boche engine, evidently quite -new and in excellent trim. This was altogether too -good to be true; there must be a catch somewhere. -William withdrew twenty yards and hurled a brick at -it—two, three, four bricks. Nothing happened. He -approached again and tying one end of a wrecked telephone -wire to it, retired behind a heap of rubble and -tugged. -</p> - -<p> -The chaff-cutter rocked to and fro and finally fell -over on its side without anything untoward occurring. -William, wiping beads from his brow, came out of cover. -There was no catch in it after all. It was a perfectly -genuine bit of treasure-trove. The Skipper would pat -his curly head, say "Good boy," and exalt him above -all the other subalterns. <i>Bon</i>—very <i>bon</i>! -</p> - -<p> -But how to get it home? For you cannot carry full-grown -chaff-cutters about in your breeches pockets. For -one thing it spoils the set of your pants. He must get -a limber. Yes, but how? -</p> - -<p> -The country was quick with other cavalrymen all -in the souvenir business. If he left the chaff-cutter in -order to fetch a limber, one of them would be sure to -snap it up. On the other hand, if he waited for a limber -to come trotting up of its own sweet will he might -conceivably wait for the rest of the War. Limbers -(G.S. Mule) are not fairy coaches. -</p> - -<p> -Our William was up against it. He plunged his -hands into his tunic-pockets and commenced to stride -up and down, thinking to the best of his ability. -</p> - -<p> -In pocketing his right hand he encountered some hard -object. On drawing the object forth he discovered it -to be his mother's gift. William's mother, under the -impression that her son spends most of his time lying -wounded and starving out in No-man's land, keeps him -liberally supplied with tabloid meals to sustain him on -these occasions—herds of bison corralled into one -lozenge, the juice of myriad kine concentrated in a -single capsule. This particular gift was of peppermints -(warranted to assuage thirst for weeks on end). But -it was not the peppermints that engaged William's young -fancy; it was the container, small, metal, cylindrical. -</p> - -<p> -His inspiration took fire. He set the tin under the -chaff-cutter, chopped off a yard of telephone wire, buried -one end in peppermints, twisted the other about the -leg of the cutter, mounted his horse and rode for dear -life. -</p> - -<p> -When he returned with the limber an hour later, he -found three cavalrymen, two horse-gunners and a -transporteer grouped at a respectful radius round the -chaff-cutter, daring each other to jerk the wire. -</p> - -<p> -When William stepped boldly forward and jerked -the wire they all flung themselves to earth and covered -their heads. When nothing happened and he coolly -proceeded to load the cutter on the limber they all sat up -again and took notice. -</p> - -<p> -When he picked up the tin and offered them some -peppermints they mounted their horses and rode away. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap35"></a></p> - -<h3> -XXXV -<br /><br /> -THE PHANTOM ARMY -</h3> - -<p> -I can readily believe that war as performed by -Messieurs our ancestors was quite good fun. You -dressed up in feathers and hardware—like something -between an Indian game-cock and a tank—and caracoled -about the country on a cart-horse, kissing your hand to -balconies and making very liberal expenses out of -any fat (and unarmed) burgesses that happened along. -</p> - -<p> -With the first frost you went into winter quarters—i.e. you -turned into the most convenient castle and -whiled away the dark months roasting chestnuts at a -log fire, entertaining the ladies with quips, conundrums -and selections on the harpsichord and vying with the -jester in the composition of Limericks. -</p> - -<p> -The profession of arms in those spacious days was -both pleasant and profitable. Nowadays it is neither; -it is a dreary <i>mélange</i> of mud, blood, boredom and -blue-funk (I speak for myself). -</p> - -<p> -Yet even it, miserable calamity that it is (or was), -has produced its piquant situations, its high moments; -and one manages to squeeze a sly smile out of it all, -here and there, now and again. -</p> - -<p> -I have heard the skirl of the Argyll and Sutherland -battle-pipes in the Borghese Gardens and seen a -Highlander dance the sword-dance before applauding Rome. -I have seen the love-locks of a matinée idol being -trimmed with horse-clippers (weep, O ye flappers of -Suburbia!) and a Royal Academician set to whitewash -a pig-sty. I have seen American aviators in spurs, -Royal Marines a-horse, and a free-born Australian -eating rabbit. All these things have I seen. -</p> - -<p> -And of high moments I have experienced plenty of -late, for it has been my happy lot to be in the front -of the hunt that has swept the unspeakable Boche back -off a broad strip of France and Belgium, and the -memory of the welcome accorded to us, the first British, by -the liberated inhabitants will remain with us until the -last "Lights Out." The procedure was practically the -same throughout. -</p> - -<p> -There would come a crackle of wild rifle-fire from the -front of a village; then, as we worked round to the flank, -a dozen or so blue-cloaked Uhlans would scamper out of -the rear and disappear at a non-stop gallop for home. -In a second the street would be full of people, emptying -out of houses and cellars, pressing about us, shaking -hands, kissing us and our horses even, smothering us -with flowers, cheering "<i>Vivent les Anglais!</i>", "<i>Vive -la France!</i>" clamouring, laughing, crying, mad with joy. -</p> - -<p> -<i>Grandmères</i> would appear at attic windows waving -calico tricolours (hidden for four long years) while -others plastered up tricolour hand-bills—"<i>Hommage à -nos Liberateurs</i>," "God's blessing unto Tommy." -</p> - -<p> -However, touching and delightful though it all might -be, it was not getting on with the war; this <i>embarras des -amis</i> was saving the Uhlans' hide. -</p> - -<p> -Furthermore, though I can bring myself to bear with -a certain amount of embracing from attractive young -things, I do not enjoy the salutations of unshorn old -men; and when Mayors and Corporations got busy my -native modesty rebelled, and I would tear myself loose -and, with my steed decorated from ears to croup with -flowers, so that I looked more like a perambulating -hot-house than a poor soldier-man, take up the pursuit once -more. -</p> - -<p> -In due course we came to the considerable town of X. -All happened as before. As we popped in at one flank -the bold Uhlan popped out at the other, and the -townsfolk flooded the streets. I was dragged out of the -saddle, kissed, pump-handled and cheered while my -bewildered charger was led aside and festooned with -pink roses. Tricolours appeared at every window; -handbills of welcome were distributed broadcast. The Mayor -and Corporation arrived at the double, and we struggled -together for some moments while they rasped me with -their stubbly beards. When the first ecstasies had -somewhat abated I gathered my troop and prepared to -move again. -</p> - -<p> -"Whither away?" the Mayor enquired, a fine old -veteran he, wearing two 1870 medals and the ribbon of -the Legion. -</p> - -<p> -"To Z.," said I. -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Ecoutez, donc</i>," he warned. "They are waiting for -you there in force, machine-guns and cannon." -</p> - -<p> -I intimated that nevertheless I must go and have a -look-see, at any rate, and so rode out of town, the vast -crowd accompanying us to the outskirts, cheering, shouting -advice, warnings and blessings. In sight of Z. we -shed our floral tributes and, debouching off the -highway into the open, worked forwards on the look-out -for trouble. -</p> - -<p> -It came. A dozen pip-squeaks shrilled overhead to -cause considerable casualties among some neighbouring -cabbages, and shortly afterwards rifle-fire opened from -outlying cottages. I swung round and tried for an -opening to the north, but a couple of machine-guns promptly -gave tongue on that flank. Another flock of pip-squeaks -kicked up the mould in front of us and some fresh rifles -and machine-guns joined in. Too hot altogether. -</p> - -<p> -I was just deciding to give it best and cut for cover -when all hostile fire suddenly switched off, and a few -minutes later I beheld light guns on lorries, machine-guns -in motor-cars and Uhlans on horses stampeding out -of the village by all roads east. -</p> - -<p> -The day was mine. Yip, Yip! Bonza! Skoo-kum! -Hurroosh! Nevertheless I was properly bewildered, for -it was absurd to suppose that an overwhelming force of -heavily-armed Huns could have been bluffed out of a -strong position by the merest handful of unsupported -cavalry. Manifestly absurd! -</p> - -<p> -I turned about, and in so doing my eye lit on the -poplar-lined highway from X., and I understood. -Along the road poured the hordes of an advancing army, -advancing in somewhat irregular column of route, with -banners flying. The head of the column was not a -mile distant. The Infantry must be on my heels, -thought I. Stout marching! I grabbed up my glasses, -took a long look and bellowed with laughter. It was -not the Infantry at all; it was the liberated population -of X., headed by the Mayor and Corporation, come out -to see the fun, the <i>grandmères</i> and <i>grandpères</i>, the girls -and boys, the dogs and babies, marching, hobbling, -skipping, toddling down the pave, waving their calico -tricolours and singing the <i>Marseillaise</i>. I thought of the -Boche fleeing eastward with the fear of God in his -soul, and rolled about in my saddle drunk with joy. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mudlarks, by Crosbie Garstin - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MUDLARKS *** - -***** This file should be named 59900-h.htm or 59900-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/9/9/0/59900/ - -Produced by Al Haines -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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