us patient in Number X bed? Obviously a
gentleman from the colour of his pyjamas, his identity disc proclaimed
him to be Private Smithlord of the Qth Blankshires. There was something
strange about him. Only that morning he had received the V.C. from Sir
Douglas Haig, the R.S.V.P. from General Petain, the Order of the Golden
Elephant from our Japanese Allies, the Order of the Split Haddock from
the President of Nicaragua, and the Order of the Neutral Nut from Brazil.
Yet he cared for none of these things; he only murmured, "Rosamund!" Who
was Private Smithlord?

Though so little was known of him, the story of his prowess was on every
lip. An officer from his regiment who had gone out alone to an
observation post had been surrounded and cut off by the enemy. Threatened
on all sides by guns and bombs of every calibre, he had prepared to sell
his life dearly. To attempt a rescue would have been madness; even the
most reckless Town Major would have blenched at the idea; and the
Regiment, in the comparative safety of their trench, could only look on
helplessly.

All but Private Smithlord. Hastily borrowing the Colonel's horse, he
urged the gallant animal up the trench and away over the top. And then
began a race such as had never been seen at Epsom or Melton Mowbray.

"Gad," said a sporting subaltern, who in peace days had frequently
entered for a Derby sweepstake at the National Liberal Club, "the beggar
can ride--what?"

An answering cheer rang out from all ranks.

Over wire entanglements and across shell holes dashed Private Smithlord,
firing rapidly with his revolver all the while. Nearer to the ill-fated
officer he drew, and then suddenly he was in the midst of the enemy.
Lashing out right and left, he fought his way to the man he had come to
rescue, pulled him up behind him and, amidst a hurricane of bullets,
charged back to the British lines. Nor did he pause till he arrived at
the Colonel's dug-out.

"I have brought him back, sir," he said, and fainted. When he awoke it
was to find himself in the Xth bed of the Yth Base Hospital.

And who is it in the next bed? It is the officer whom he rescued. Do we
recognize him? Alas, no. Although unwounded by the enemy, the exposure of
that terrible day had brought on a severe attack of mumps. We cannot
recognize him. But the nurse assures us that it is our old friend, Major
Murgatroyd.

"A visitor to see you," said the nurse, coming in and waking Private
Smithlord up.