; men of independent
means in their own land. At the outbreak of war they patriotically
combined under their chief, and offered themselves to the French
Government, which gladly accepted their services for work on the
sand-dunes of Flanders. The troop bore the whole cost of their outfit
and transport. They brought their own native transport system with them.
The men obey none but their chief, at whose bidding they would, I
believe, even go through Hell itself. All arguments, quarrels, and
discussions in the troop are brought before the Chief, whose word and
judgment is law.

On the dunes of Northern Flanders they had their own encampment,
conducted in their own native style. They looked after their horses with
as much care as a fond mother does her child. The harness and trappings
were magnificently decorated with beautiful designs in mother-of-pearl
and gold, and the men, when astride their horses and garbed in their
long flowing white _burnouses_, looked the very personification of
dignity. The Chief never handles a rifle, it would be beneath his
position to do so. He is the Head, and lives up to it in every respect
possible.

I filmed him by the side of his horse. It was the first time he had been
photographed.

Returning to the point where the scouts were leaving, I decided to
follow close behind them, on the chance of getting some good scenes.
Strapping my camera on my back, and pushing a tuft of grass under the
strap, to disguise it as much as possible if viewed from the front, I
crawled after them. One may think that crawling on the sand is easy;
well, all I can say to those who think so is, "Try it." I soon found it
was not so easy as it looked, especially under conditions where the
raising of one's body two or three inches above the top of the dune
might be possibly asking for a bullet through it, and drawing a
concentrated fire in one's direction.

I had crawled in this fashion for about 150 yards, when I heard a shell
come shrieking in my direction. With a plunk it fell, and exploded about
forty feet away, choking me with sand and half blinding me for about
five minutes. The acrid fumes, too, which came from it, seemed to
tighten my throat, making respiration very difficult for some ten
minutes afterwards. Cautiously looking round, I tried to locate the
other scouts, but nowhere could they be seen. I crawled for another
thirty yards or so, but still no sign of them. Deciding that if I
continued by mysel