flown to the head of the column, drawn his revolver, and emptied it in
the face of that General. He positively enjoyed picturing the results of
such a crime. He chortled over the idea of the plump figure falling from
the comfortable saddle to the hard, hot road. He imagined the neat red
cap lying in the grey dust. And his boots, he knew what they would be
like--glossy mahogany! Why should any one have shining boots, when his
own were dull and bursting? Why should any one be clean and shaven when
his own face was smeared with dirt and stubble? He exulted inwardly at
the thought of the death and mutilation of some one who had never done
him the slightest harm, and whose efficiency had probably saved his
life.

Such is human nature!




CHAPTER IX

SIR JOHN FRENCH


A few miles south of La Fère, the Brigade was halted in an orchard for
its midday rest. Taking from his pockets the various parts of his safety
razor, the Subaltern screwed them together, and with the help of a bit
of soap, from which the biscuit crumbs and chocolate dust of his
haversack had first to be carefully scraped, he shaved. As he was
returning, lovingly fingering his once more smooth cheeks, he saw three
large Daimler limousines draw up opposite the lines, and recognised them
immediately as the authorised pattern of car for the use of the higher