sailor on horseback (Ha, ha, ha!).

He set his jaw and was determined that he would not be caught tripping
again; there should be no more reminiscences. Once clear of Ireland he
would bury his past.

All this happened years ago.

When I came back from leave the other day I asked for Albert Edward.
"He and MacTavish are up at Corpse H.Q.," said the skipper; "they're
helping the A.P.M. straighten the traffic out. By the way you'd
better trickle up there and relieve them, as they're both going on
leave in a day or so."

I trickled up to Corpse and eventually discovered Albert Edward alone,
practising the three-card trick with a view to a career after the War.
"You'll enjoy this Mess," said he, turning up "the Lady" where he
least expected her; "it's made up of Staff eccentrics--Demobilizing,
Delousing, Educational, Laundry and Burial _wallahs_--all sorts, very
interesting; you'll learn how the other half lives and all that. Oh,
that reminds me. You know poor old MacTavish's secret, don't you?"

"Of course," said I; "everybody does. Why?"

Albert Edward grinned. "Because there's another bloke here with a dark
past, only this is t'other way about; he's a bumpkin turned sailor,
Blenkinsop by name, you know, the Shropshire hackney breeders. He's
Naval Division. Ever rub against those merchants?"

I had not.