e was an
expert with his Scotch, but he was very game--very game indeed. After
I had put him to bed, I determined to paint my second masterpiece, "St.
George to the Rescue!" I did it--and fell asleep where I sat. When I
woke next morning, imagine my astonishment! I had done both paintings
on the one canvas! The ploughman was toddling along to the left, and
St George was hoofing it to the right, but the effect one got was that
a milk-wagon was going straight up the centre. It gave me an idea. I
waited for my leave, and took the painting to the War Office. I told
them if they would give me enough paint I could so disguise the British
Army that it would all appear to be marching sideways. That tickled
the "brass hats." They could see my argument in a minute. They knew
that if you could only get a whole army going sideways the war was won.
I was put on the Staff and given a free hand, and in a very short time
was placed in complete charge of the super-camouflage policy of the
Allies. The testimonials, my dear chap, have been most gratifying. We
have undisputed evidence of an Australian offering a carrot to a
siege-gun under the impression it was a mule. There was a Staff car
which we painted so that it would appear to be going backwards, and the
only way that a certain Scottish general would ride in it was by
sitting the wrong way, with his knees over the back. In fact, my dear
sir, if the war only lasts another year, I shall reduce the whole thing
to a pastime, blending all the best points of "Blind Man's Buff" with
"Button, button, who's got the button?"'

Having reached this satisfactory climax, the worthy colonel shifted his
cap to the extreme side of his head, and walked jauntily along with his
knees performing a variety of acrobatic wriggles.

'I am most gratified,' said Selwyn, repressing a smile. 'I had no
idea, when I saw you and poor Dick Durwent marching away together, that
you would rise to such fame.'

'Alas, poor Durwent!' cried Smyth, pulling his cap forward to a
dignified angle. 'I never knew who he was until we got to France. You
passed him along as Sherwood, you know. His people are frightfully cut
up about him.'

'They heard of his death, of course?'

'It isn't that, old son; it's the horrible disgrace. It only leaked
out a couple of weeks ago from one of his battalion, but it's common
property now. The old boy was absolutely done in--looked twenty years
older.'

'What has lea