time."

Here those who were not so badly wounded were marched on, but there
were ten of us so badly hit we had to go very slowly. Percy Weller,
one of the boys from Trail who enlisted when I did, was with us, and
when we began the march I was behind him and noticed three holes
in the back of his coat; the middle one was a horrible one made by
shrapnel. He staggered painfully, poor chap, and his left eye was
gone!

We passed a dead Canadian Highlander, whose kilt had pitched forward
when he fell, and seemed to be covering his face.

In the first village we came to, they halted us, and we saw it was
a dressing-station. The village was in ruins--even the town pump
had had its head blown off!--and broken glass, pieces of brick, and
plaster littered the one narrow street. The dressing was done in
a two-room building which may have been a store. The walls were
discolored and cracked, and the windows broken.

On a stretcher in the corner there lay a Canadian Highlander, from
whose wounds the blood dripped horribly and gathered in a red pool
on the dusty floor. His eyes were glazed and his face was drawn with
pain. He talked unceasingly, but without meaning. The only thing I
remember hearing him say was, "It's no use, mother--it's no use!"

Weller was attended to before I was, and marched on. While I sat
there on an old tin pail which I had turned up for this purpose, two
German officers came in, whistling. They looked for a minute at the
dying Highlander in the corner, and one of them went over to him. He