rching
troops, and then down at the steaming manure heap, and remarked with a
little quirk to his lips: "We did not think then that we should hold our
first good conversation in a place like this, did we?" He smiled in a
sad way, but there was a lot more sadness than mirth in what he said.

Guy d'Oultremont came up and said something that I did not understand,
and we started back toward the headquarters. We stopped opposite the
inn, and the two colonels were called up for a little more talk.

Just then a crowd of priests, with Red Cross brassards on their arms,
came down the road on their way to the battlefield to gather up the
wounded. With his usual shyness the King withdrew a few steps to seek
shelter behind a motor that was standing near by. As we talked, we edged
back a little, forcing him to come forward, so that he was in plain
sight of the priests, who promptly broke out in a hearty "_Vive le
roi!_" He blushed and waved his hand at them, and, after they had passed
by, shook hands with us and followed them on foot out onto the field. In
modern warfare a King's place is supposed to be in a perfectly safe
spot, well back of the firing line, but he does not play the game that
way. Every day since the war began, he has gone straight out into the
thick of it, with the shells bursting all around and even within range
of hostile rifle fire. It is a dangerous thing for him to do, but it
does the troops good, and puts heart into them for the desperate
fighting they are called upon to do. They are all splendidly devoted to
him.

The rain stopped as we got into the motors and started back toward
Malines, with the idea of locating the other battery of _obusiers_.
There was a sharp volley of three toots on Colonel DuCane's horn, and we
came to a sudden stop, with the emergency brakes on, to receive the
information that it was two o'clock and time for lunch. None of us had
kept any track of time, and all were ready to go sailing along
indefinitely without food. As soon as we had noticed the time, however,
we all became instantly hungry, and moved along, looking for a good
place for lunch. I had the happy idea of suggesting the convent where we
had taken refuge on Thursday, and thither we repaired to be most warmly
greeted by all the nuns, and most particularly by the little Irish
sister who was overjoyed to see British uniforms and hear some war news
that she could believe. She hailed me with, "Oh! and it's the
riprisintiti