up."

And they had, for they were running back for all they were worth in the
direction of Bierne.

Our men were positively disappointed, and I can honestly say I was
myself, for the possibilities of a wonderful scene had disappeared.

The tension relaxed; most of the men returned to their billets and
quickly made themselves at home with the people.

Noticing people going into church, I went up the hill to investigate. As
I entered the outer gate an officer clattered up on horseback, swung
himself off and walked up to me.

"Hullo," he said, "I am the doctor. Anything doing here?"

"Well," I said, "there might have been just now."

I related the happenings of the last ten minutes.

"Have you been to Bovincourt?"

"Yes, but the poor devils are too ill for me. I haven't sufficient stuff
with me to go round."

Another officer ran up, "I say, Doctor, for Heaven's sake look in the
church here. The place is packed and half of them are ill, God knows
what with, and one or two are dead."

"Well, I will look, but I can do nothing until this evening. I have no
stuff with me."

We went into the church. Heavens! what a sight met our eyes; the
atmosphere was choking. It was like a charnel-house. Crowds of old men,
women, and children of all ages were crowded together with their
belongings. They had been evacuated from dozens of other villages by the
Huns. Women were hugging their children to them. In one corner an old
woman was bathing the head of a child with an old stocking dipped in
water. The child, I could see, was in a high fever. There must have been
at least three hundred people lying about in all directions, wheezing
and coughing, moaning and crying.

The doctor spoke to one old woman, who had hobbled forward and sank down
near a pillar. The doctor bent down and told her that he would bring
medicine in the evening. Everybody there seemed to hear that magic word,
and scrambled forward begging for medicine for themselves, but mostly
for the children. The scene was pitiable in the extreme.

I asked one women where they had come from. She told me from many
villages. The Bosche had turned them all out of their homes, then burnt
their houses and their belongings. They had walked miles exposed to the
freezing cold rains and winds, they had been packed into this church
like a lot of sheep without covering, without fires. She was begging for
medicine for her three-months-old babe.

"She will die, monsieur, she will