that the sector was bounded on one side by Père Popeau's turnip field and
on the other by a duck-pond, and he showed a tactical knowledge of the
value of cover in getting us into a trench out of view of certain stakes
and pickets that were obviously used by Mère Popeau as a drying-ground. To
divert attention he gave a vivid demonstration of bombing along a C.T. with
clods of earth, with myself as bayonet-man nipping round traverses and
mortally puncturing sand-bags with a walking-stick. It must have been a
pretty nervy business for the Major, for any minute we might have come
across a notice-board about the hours of working parties knocking off for
dinner that would have given the whole show away. But he displayed fine
qualities of leadership and presence of mind at critical moments, notably
when Gwennie showed a disposition to explore a particular dug-out.

"I shouldn't advise you to go in there, Miss Gwennie," he said gravely.

"Why?" asked Gwennie apprehensively.

"Not a pleasant sight for a lady," said the Major gruffly. "It upset _me_
one day when I looked in."

This was probable enough, for the Mess steward used it as a store for empty
bottles.

Gwennie shuddered and passed on.

The Major mopped his forehead with relief and set the ladies souveniring
among old water-tin stoppers, which he alleged to be the plugs of
hand-grenades.

Taking it all round, it was a successful morning's show, which did credit