He was "the old soldier," and knew all the ins and outs of army life.
I quickly became entangled in the interest of unravelling his complex
nature. On the one hand he was said to be a desperado and double-dyed
liar. On the other hand, if he respected you, he would always tell you
the naked truth, and would never "let you down." He knew drink was his
ruin, but he could not and would not stop it. Yet his advice to me was
always good. Indeed, although he had the reputation of a bold, bad
blackguard, he never led any one else on the "wrong trail," and his
advice to young soldiers in the barrack-rooms was wonderfully clear
and useful.

If he respected you, you could trust your life with him. If he didn't,
you could "look up" for trouble. He was honest and "square"--if he
liked you--but he could make things disappear by "sleight of hand" in
a manner worthy of a West End conjurer.

He was a miner, and had a sound knowledge of mining and practical
geology which many a science-master might have been proud of. He had
the eyes of a trained observer, and I afterwards discovered he was a
crack shot.

Some months later, when the A.S.C. ambulance drivers were exercising
their horses, he showed himself a good rough-rider, and I recalled his
"galloper" days. And again at Lemnos and Suvla he was a splendid
swimmer. He was an all-round man. Unlike the other men in barracks--
the shop assistants and clerks--Hawk never missed noticing small
things, and it was this which first drew my attention to him.

I remember one night hearing a woman's voice wailing a queer Hindoo