asked us to mark down petrol stations. Those marks mean
that's where you can buy petrol."

The head-waiter breathed deeply. With an assured and happy
countenance, he departed and, for the two-hundredth time that
day, looked from the windows of the dining-room out over the
tumbling breakers to the gray stretch of sea. As though
fearful that his face would expose his secret, he glanced
carefully about him and then, assured he was alone, leaned
eagerly forward, scanning the empty, tossing waters.

In his mind's eye he beheld rolling tug-boats straining
against long lines of scows, against the dead weight of
field-guns, against the pull of thousands of motionless,
silent figures, each in khaki, each in a black leather
helmet, each with one hundred and fifty rounds.

In his own language Carl Schultz reproved himself.

"Patience," he muttered; "patience! By ten to-night all will
be dark. There will be no stars. There will be no moon. The
very heavens fight for us, and by sunrise our outposts will
be twenty miles inland!"

At lunch-time Carl Schultz carefully, obsequiously waited
upon the three strangers. He gave them their choice of soup,
thick or clear, of gooseberry pie or Half-Pay pudding. He
accepted their shillings gratefully, and when they departed
for the links he bowed them on their way. And as their car
turned up Jetty Street, for one instant, he again allowed his