ion,
and came to me for assistance.

"Excuse me," he said, "but were you in charge of the train last
night?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry to say I was."

"Well, what does one have to do?"

"Nothing."

"Well, but how does one keep order?"

"One doesn't keep order. But they've given me a pile of printed
instructions, and I don't see how they can possibly be carried out.
How can I keep order in a train half a mile long with men I know
nothing about?"

He was getting worried. I knew the feeling.

"Do you want a tip," I said.

"Yes, if you can give me one."

"Well, just walk along the train until you find a very comfortable
compartment marked, 'O.C. train.' Get inside, lock the door, pull down
the blinds and go to sleep."

"Thanks, awfully. I think I'll take that tip."

"By the way," I shouted after him, "what is our destination?"

"Haven't the faintest idea."

"Does anybody know?"

"I don't think so."

"Thanks, awfully."

The train journey was uneventful, save for alternatively eating and
sleeping, and two days later I reported at battalion headquarters.

The battalion was in rest billets at St. Amand; and I was posted as
second in command to B Company.

The officers of B Company were just about to begin their midday meal
when I put in an appearance at the company mess.

Captain George commanded the company. He was a splendid type of the
fighting man of the present day--young, active, and clear-cut, boyish,
yet serious. Captain George was made of the right stuff, and we became
chums on the spot.

The other officers of the company were Second Lieutenant Farman, who
had just received his commission in the field, Second Lieutenant
Chislehirst, and Second Lieutenant Day.

They were all splendid fellows, the type you meet and take to at once;
all as keen as ginger when there is serious work to be done; and when
work is over are as light-hearted as schoolboys.

The mess consisted of a dilapidated kitchen, with a stone floor, and
ventilated by the simple method of broken windows and a door removed
from the hinges.

In those northern farmhouses of France it is purely a matter of
opinion as to whether ventilation is really an advantage; for from the
yard in front of the house the odour from the refuse and manure of
the farm, piled up in a heap outside your window, becomes very acute
when the wind is in the wrong direction, as it usually is.

CHAPTER VIII

EARLY IMPRESSIONS

BILLETS. A STARTLING