in the sky. Shafto, a machine-gun officer attached
to the Blanks, had been granted twenty-four hours' leave, and made a
muddy and dangerous journey of fifteen miles to visit his old
schoolfellow, now on the staff of a General commanding a division. He
was challenged and so was his companion; their faces expressed the long
strain of a terrible war; both looked years older than their actual
age, for, like the sons and daughters of the worshippers of Moloch,
"they had passed through the fire."

Shafto was fine-drawn to leanness, heavy lines were scored on his
forehead, he had twice been wounded, had taken part in desperate
fighting, witnessed many harrowing sights, and lost many friends.

The chill air was full of sounds; a continuous rolling of wheels,
rumbling of guns, and the distant scream of a shell.

"There goes a signal to lengthen the German range," remarked Shafto.

"That's right, for they often show up lights that mean nothing."

"Look at that aeroplane of ours dropping red stars over the Boches'
first line of trenches. I suppose the lines are fairly close?"

"By Jove, you may say so! The men can shout across at one another, but
the trenches are a good four miles from where we stand."

As he concluded, a star shell broke and lit up a vast expanse of
gleaming mud.

To the rolling and rumbling was now added a far-away sound of tramping
feet and song.

"Here they come!" exclaimed Tremenheere; "back to billets; they changed
at six o'clock, but it's heavy going--mostly wading in slosh."

The marching came nearer and nearer, also the sound of singing and
mouth-organs.

"'Michigan,'" said Shafto, "is a favourite; poor old 'Tipperary' is
down and out."

Presently the force which had been relieved, muddy to the waist, but
splendidly cheerful, splashed into the great courtyard.

"Irish," explained Tremenheere; "magnificent fellows, born fighters."

They watched the men as they fell out and scattered to their quarters
in outhouses, barns and offices; and then Shafto and his friends made
their way into the battered old chateau, and temporary Orderly
room--once a lady's boudoir. It still exhibited strips of artistic
wall-paper, a cracked mirror, a beautiful Louis XIV. cabinet stacked
with papers, a few rude chairs, a couple of wooden tables.

Presently a sergeant-major came in to report, a fine stalwart fellow
with a heavy black moustache and, in spite of his muddy waders, an air
of complete self-posse