its
arrangements for No. 2 Battery of the Second Brigade, and had sent an
incomplete message to the Army Service Corps Headquarters. The A.S.C.
had waited in vain for the completion of the message, and had then, at
dark, dispatched a convoy with provender for No. 2 with instructions to
find No. 2. This convoy had not merely not found No. 2--it had lost
itself, vanished in the dark universe of rain. But let not No. 2 imagine
that No. 2 was blameless! No. 2 ought to have found the convoy. By some
means, human or divine, by the exercise of second sight or the vision of
cats or the scent of hounds, it ought to have found the convoy, and
there was no excuse for it not having done so. Such was the expressed
opinion of Colonel Hullocher, and a recital by Major Craim of the
measures taken by him did nothing to shake that opinion.

"How exactly do you stand now?" the Colonel fiercely demanded.

"The men and the horses will manage fairly well with what they've had,
sir," said the Major; and he incautiously added: "But my officers
haven't had anything at all."

The Colonel seized the opening with fury.

"What the devil do I care for your officers? It's your horses and your
men that I'm thinking about. It's to-morrow morning that I'm thinking
about. I--"

The horse, revolving, cut short his harangue.

"Keep that d--d lantern out of his eyes!" cried the Colonel.

George jumped up, and as he did so the water swished in his boots, and a
stream poured off his cap. The horse was being fatally attracted towards
him. The beam of the lantern fell on him, illuminating before his face
the long slants of rain.

"Ha! Who's this?" the Colonel demanded, steadying the horse.

George smartly saluted, forgetting his fatigue.

"You, is it? And what are _you_ supposed to be doing? Look here--"
Colonel Hullocher stopped in full career of invective, remembering
military etiquette. "Major, I suggest you send Mr. Cannon with some men
to find the convoy." The Major having eagerly concurred, the Colonel
went on: "Take a few men and search every road and track between here
and Kingswood Station--systematically. Kingswood's the rail-head, and
somewhere between here and there that convoy is bound to be.
Systematically, mind! It's not a technical job. All that's wanted is
common sense and thoroughness."

The Colonel's gaze was ruthlessly challenging. George met it stiffly. He
knew that the roads, if not the tracks, had already been searched. He