it was his duty. Anyway, the Mess dined gloriously off the chickens he
caught, and as a couple of hayricks had been dismantled and distributed,
everybody spent a tolerably comfortable night.




CHAPTER XVII

THE ADVANCE BEGINS


Although they stood to arms at the first flush of daylight on the
following day, they did not march off until nearly eleven o'clock. The
men were moved into the leafy grounds of the château to keep them out of
the sun, and beyond the observation of hostile aircraft.

The regimental butchers slew one or two sheep during the wait; but the
meat subsequently proved to be abominably tough, and the fat collected
to oil the bolts of the men's rifles only served to make them stiffer
than ever.

The Subaltern had entertained fond hopes that owing to his recent
unusually long hours of sleep he would not be attacked by the same
nauseating sensations of fatigue; but his hopes were vain. The sleep
seemed to have made things worse. A little rest had developed an
overwhelming desire for more, and he felt worse than ever.

He longed as he had never longed before for long cool drinks and clean
white sheets. He imagined himself at home. What would he do? He pictured