of its unassuming name.

So they planned, and it seemed a small and unimportant thing to them
that as they clattered the governments of half the world and more were
drifting into war. About midday they became aware of the first of
the evening-paper placards shouting to them across the street:--
-----------------------------------------------

THE WAR-CLOUD DARKENS-----------------------------------------------

Nothing else but that.

"Always rottin' about war now," said Bert.

"They'll get it in the neck in real earnest one of these days, if they
ain't precious careful."

4

So you will understand the sudden apparition that surprised rather than
delighted the quiet informality of Dymchurch sands. Dymchurch was one of
the last places on the coast of England to be reached by the mono-rail,
and so its spacious sands were still, at the time of this story, the
secret and delight of quite a limited number of people. They went there
to flee vulgarity and extravagances, and to bathe and sit and talk and
play with their children in peace, and the Desert Dervishes did not
please them at all.

The two white figures on scarlet wheels came upon them out of the
infinite along the sands from Littlestone, grew nearer and larger and
more audible, honk-honking and emitting weird cries, and generally
threatening liveliness of the most aggressive type. "Good heavens!" said
Dymchurch, "what's this?"

Then our young men, according to a preconcerted plan, wheeled round from
file to line, dismounted and stood it attention. "Ladies and gentlemen,"
they said, "we beg to present ourselves--the Desert Dervishes." They
bowed profoundly.

The few scattered groups upon the beach regarded them with horror for
the most part, but some of the children and young people were interested
and drew nearer. "There ain't a bob on the beach," said Grubb in an
undertone, and the Desert Dervishes plied their bicycles with comic
"business," that got a laugh from one very unsophisticated little boy.
Then they took a deep breath and struck into the cheerful strain of
"What Price Hair-pins Now?" Grubb sang the song, Bert did his best to
make the chorus a rousing one, and it the end of each verse they danced
certain steps, skirts in hand, that they had carefully rehearsed.

"Ting-a-ling-a-ting-a-ling-a-ting-a-ling-a-tang...
What Price Hair-pins Now?"

So they chanted and danced their steps in the sunshine on Dymchurch
beach, and the children