walking slowly towards him. Suddenly he jumped up and there was an
exchange of words which we could not hear, although we tried hard to do
so. The Sergeant came over to us, looking rather disconcerted, so we
were able to guess the nature of the conversation.

We felt greatly encouraged and worked with renewed vigour. The stacks
vanished one by one. Time appeared to slip by with gathering speed. A
kind of common rhythm seemed to pervade our movements as we plodded to
and fro with mechanical regularity.

The officer went up to the stacks from which we were removing the
sleepers and made a mental calculation. "Only four hundred sleepers left
now, boys--that's five apiece or ten to each pair. You'll soon be
finished, and I've ordered lorries to take you home!"

His kindness did us good and we worked with a kind of grim
determination. My partner was coming to the end of his strength. His
knees were bent and from time to time he staggered, jerking the sleeper
so as to make me wince with pain. But he kept up obstinately. We counted
the sleepers as we received them--one, two, three and so on. This
occupied our minds and the time passed all the more quickly. Eight ...
nine ... ten! At last our work was done! "Thank God," said my partner
with deep conviction. We rested against one of the newly erected stacks,
but it was not long before Sergeant Hyndman came striding up and
addressed us angrily. He had evidently been snubbed by the officer and
was giving relief to his mortification by bullying us.

"What yer doin' there? Swingin' it on yer mates, are yer? Call yerselves
sportsmen, do yer? Get back an' bloody well do yer bit!"