_m-map_ reference, but I can give you the _area_ roughly."

"Barmy!" was the word he heard spoken to a bystander at the other end.

"Look here, old man," they said kindly, "we know you're all very tired
and worried, but just try to _think_ a moment. Never mind dumps now.
You can't be making all that noise moving a dump--what?" (Specimen of
Divisional joke--very rare.) "Tell us, is the Bosch shelling?"

"No. They've stopped."

"Good. Then it's all over?"

"No. It's still going on."

"But you just said that it had stopped."

"Yes, it has. But the dump hasn't. It keeps m-moving."

"Poor old bird," they said, "his nerve's gone at last. All right,"
they shouted, "don't you worry. The storeman will look after the dump.
You go to bed and have a good sleep."

"Have a g-good sleep!" muttered the B.M., "that's just like the
Divis--Oh!" and he sat down as a torpedo flopped into his bedroom a
few doors away and made a hole of it.

Then he sat up. The storeman of the Brigade dump was not two hundred
yards away from the active one. The poor fellow was to have gone on
leave that night. Presently it occurred to him that, instead of trying