muchness--always the look of the sahib about them, the slightly
proud, the slightly stuffy, the slightly weather-beaten, the slightly
affluent sahib. Company Commanders, also on horses, but somehow or
other not quite so much on horses as the Colonels, are the same
all the army through--very confident of themselves, but hoping
against hope that there is nothing about their companies to catch
the Adjutant's eye. The Subaltern walks as he has always done,
lighthearted if purposeful, trusting that all is as it should be, but
feeling that if it isn't that is some one else's trouble. Sergeants,
Corporals, Lance-corporals and men have not altered. The Sergeants
relax on the march into something almost bordering on friendliness
towards their victims; the Corporals thank Heaven that for the moment
they are but men; the Lance-corporals thank Heaven that always they
are something more than men, and the men have the look of having
decided that this is the last kilometre they'll ever footslog for
anybody, but while they are doing it they might as well be cheerful
about it. The regimental transport makes a change from the regularity
of column of route, and the comic relief is provided, as it has always
been and always will be provided whatever the disciplinary martinets
may say or do, by the company cooks.

This was a sight, thought Jones, he could watch for ever. He was sorry
when the battalion came at last to an end; he was glad when another
almost immediately began. He was in luck; doubtless this was a brigade
on the move. He proposed to have his breakfast at the window, when
it came as come it soon must, thus refreshing his hungry body and
his contemplative mind at the same time. The second battalion, as the
first, were fine fellows all, suggesting the might of the Allies and
the futility of the enemy's protracted resistance. Again the comic
relief was provided by the travelling cuisine, reminding Jones of the