batman trembled and faded into the darkness _à pas de loup_. By the
time the old gentleman had halted his command and cursed them "good
night" his resourceful retainer had found a sheet or two of corrugated
iron somewhere and assembled them into some sort of bivouac for the
reception of his lord. His lord fell inside, kicked off his boots and
slept instantly, slept like a wintering bear.

At 2 A.M. three Canadian privates blundered against our village and
tripped over it. They had lost their way, were mud from hoofs to
horns, dead beat, soaked to the skin, chilled to the bone, fed up
to the back teeth. They were not going any further, neither were
they going to be deluged to death if there was any cover to be had
anywhere. They nosed about, and soon discovered a few sheets of
corrugated iron, bore them privily hence and weathered the night out
under some logs further down the valley. My batman trod me underfoot
at seven next morning, "Goin' to be blinkin' murder done in this camp
presently, Sir," he announced cheerfully. "Three officers went to
sleep in bivvies larst night, but somebody's souvenired 'em since an'
they're all lyin' hout in the hopen now, Sir. Their blokes daresent
wake 'em an' break the noos. All very 'asty-tempered gents, so I'm
told. The Colonel is pertickler mustard. There'll be some fresh faces
on the Roll of Honour when 'e comes to."

I turned out and took a look at the scene of impending tragedy. The
three unconscious officers on three camp-beds were lying out in the
middle of a sea of mud like three lone islets. Their shuddering
subordinates were taking cover at long range, whispering among
themselves and crouching in attitudes of dreadful expectancy like
men awaiting the explosion of a mine or the cracking of Doom. As
explosions of those dimensions are liable to be impartial in their