ing. Not a sound was audible. In case anyone was there I
thought of a little ruse. The door was close to me and it opened
outwards, so picking up a stone I flung it over the roof, intending it
to fall the other end and so create a diversion. With a sudden pull I
opened the door alongside me, but with no result. I peered round the
door; nobody there. I entered and found the building had been used as a
stable. Straw was lying all over the place; feed-bags had been hastily
thrown down, halters were dotted here and there, and a Uhlan lance was
lying on the ground, which, needless to say, I retained as a souvenir.
The rearguard of the enemy had evidently taken shelter there during the
previous night and had made a hasty exit owing to the close proximity of
our boys.

Evening was drawing on apace, so I decided to make my way back to the
car. The "still" man was awaiting my return.

At Bovincourt I met an Intelligence Officer and told him of my
experiences. He seemed highly amused and thanked me for the information
brought. I told him that wishing to be on the spot if anything
interesting happened during the night or early next morning I had
decided to sleep in my car in the village. I was going to hunt up a
place to cook some food.

"I will take you somewhere," he said. "There is the old Mayor of Bierne
here. He has been evacuated by the Bosche. He's an interesting old
fellow and you might have a chat with him. He is in a house close by
with his wife. Come along."

We found the old man in one of the half-dozen remaining houses left
intact by the Huns.

We entered the kitchen and my friend introduced us to Paul Andrew, a
tall stately French farmer of a type one rarely sees. He had dark curly
hair, a shaggy moustache and beard, blue eyes and sunken cheeks, sallow
complexion and a look of despair upon his face, which seemed to brighten
up on our entrance.

I asked him if his good wife would cook a little food for us, as we
wished to stay the night in the village.

"Monsieur," he said, "what we have is yours. God knows it's little
enough--the Bosche has taken it all. But whatever monsieur wishes he
has only to ask. Will monsieur sit down?"

I bade adieu to the officer who had brought us there, had the car run
into the yard, and then returned to the cosy kitchen, and sat by the
fire whilst the old lady prepared some hot coffee.

"These are more comfortable quarters than we expected to-night," I said.
"I must make a not