ctors or caterpillar engines for hauling heavy
guns.

The day was sunny and cold. The rain of the day before had turned to
snow in the night, and the fields were dazzling.

"In the east," said the officer with me, "where there is always snow
in the winter, the Germans have sent out to their troops white helmet
covers and white smocks to cover the uniforms. But snow is
comparatively rare here, and it has not been considered necessary."

At a small bridge ten miles from Bethune he pointed out a house as
marking the farthest advance of the German Army, reached about the
eleventh of October. There was no evidence of the hard fighting that
had gone on along this road. It was a peaceful scene, the black
branches of the overarching trees lightly powdered with snow. But the
snowy fields were full of unmarked mounds. Another year, and the
mounds will have sunk to the level of the ground. Another year, and
only history will tell the story of that October of 1914 along the
great Bethune road.

An English aeroplane was overhead. There were armoured cars on the
road, going toward the front; top-heavy machines that made
surprisingly little noise, considering their weight. Some had a sort
of conning tower at the top. They looked sombre, menacing. The driving
of these cars over slippery roads must be difficult. Like the vans,
they keep as near the centre of the road as possible, allowing lighter
traffic to turn out to pass them. A van had broken down and was being
repaired at one of the wayside repair shops maintained everywhere
along the roads for this war of machinery. Men in khaki with leather
aprons were working about it, while the driver stood by, smoking a
pipe.

As we went on we encountered the Indian troops again. The weather was
better, and they thronged the roads, driving their tiny carts,
cleaning arms and accoutrements in sunny doorways, proud and haughty
in appearence even when attending to the most menial duties. From the
little ammunition carts, like toy wagons, they gazed gravely at the
car, and at the unheard of spectacle of a woman inside. Side by side
with the Indians were Scots in kilts, making up with cheerful
impudence for the Indians' lack of curiosity.

There were more Ghurkas, carrying rifles and walking lightly beside
forage carts driven by British Tommies. There were hundreds of these
carts taking hay to the cavalry divisions. The Ghurkas looked more
Japanese than ever in the clear light. Their broad-