ile he ate he talked in his simple
boyish way, making light of his own share in the story, and Captain Bob,
filling in the gaps for himself, beamed like the rising sun which flung
a rosy glow into that dismal mud-hole.

"By Jove! old chap, I congratulate you heartily," he said, grasping his
brother by both shoulders. "If you go on like this you'll either go far,
or you'll be very suddenly nipped in the bud. You mustn't take too many
chances, Dennis, for the sake of the little mater at home. But this is
good news!"

"Some have greatness thrust upon them, and I've had the luck to be one
of those," said Dennis, looking rather ashamed of himself. "I did
nothing at all, old man, that you wouldn't have done, or any of our
crush. It just happened to come my way, and it just happened to come out
all right, but I don't know which was the worst--that ride with poor old
Thompson and that shell that blew us to smithereens, or Hawke's bomb.
They were tight places, both of them! And, I say, Bob, I'll swear on
oath it was Van Drissel or Von Dussel, or whatever he calls himself, who
pitched me down that ladder. I recognised his voice distinctly."

"I should like to recognise his ugly mug," said the captain. "But he
must have gone under, for he certainly wasn't among the prisoners. I saw
them all."

"Well, Bob, I'd rather have a wash now than the Victoria Cross itself,
and I must get into another tunic. Where's our new Little Grey Home on
the western front?"

"Come on," said his brother. "I'll show you."

The Germans had sunk a well deep down through the chalk, and there was a
stand-pipe close to the Dashwoods' new quarters.

Dennis stripped himself to the buff, and sallying out to the pipe,
enjoyed the unexpected luxury of a glorious shower-bath, which he
wanted badly. Then he dressed himself, appropriating the belts and
equipment of a poor youngster named Binks, who had been killed during
the raid, and, emerging from the door, almost ran into the arms of his
father and the Divisional General.

"You are the very man I have been looking for," said the general. "Let
me give you my heartiest congratulations, Mr. Dashwood. I have been in
communication this morning with the G.O.C., and I think there's another
slice of good luck coming your way. I wish I'd paid as much attention to
languages when I was your age."

For a moment Dennis failed to grasp the drift of his words, but the
Divisional Commander soon made himself quite clear