igure
on horseback. The horse shied violently and stood still. George
persuaded him back into the track and rode on, guessing that already he
had become a genuine phantom for the self-absorbed group awakened out of
its ecstasy by the mysterious vision of a nightrider.

Half a mile farther on he saw the red end of a cigarette swimming on the
sea of darkness; his lantern had expired, and he had not yet tried to
relight it.

"Hi there!" he cried. "Who are you?"

The cigarette approached him, in a wavy movement, and a man's figure was
vaguely discerned.

"A.S.C. convoy, sir."

"Where are you supposed to be going to?"

"No. 2 Battery, Second Brigade, sir. Can't find it, sir. And we've got
off the road. The G.S. wagon fell into a hole and broke an axle, sir."

"And what do you think you're doing?"

"Waiting for daylight, sir."

The man's youthful voice was quite cheerful.

"D'you know what time it is?"

"No, sir."

"How many other vehicles have you got?"

"Three altogether, sir. Six horses."

"Well, I'm from No. 2 Battery, and I'm looking for you. You've
unharnessed, I suppose."

"Oh yes, sir, and fed."

"Well, you'd better harness up your other two carts like lightning and
come along with me. Show me the way. We'll see about the G.S. wagon
later on."

"It's about a hundred yards from here, sir."

For the second time that evening George forgot fatigue. Exultation,
though carefully hidden, warmed and thrilled every part of his body.
Tying his horse behind one of the vehicles, he rode comfortably on hard
packages till within sight of the Battery camp, when he took saddle
again and went off alone to find a celebrated inn near the Epsom Grand
Stand, where Colonel Hullocher and other grandees had billeted
themselves. The Colonel was busy with his Adjutant, but apparently quite
ready to eat George.

"Ah! You, is it? Found that convoy?"

George answered in a tone to imply that only one answer was conceivable:

"Yes, sir."

"Brought it back?"

"Part of it, sir."

He explained the circumstances.

The Colonel coughed, and said:

"Have a whisky-and-soda before you go?"

George reflected for an instant. The Colonel seemingly had a core of
decency, but George said in his heart: "I've not done with you yet, my
fat friend." And aloud, grimly.

"Thank you very much, sir. But I shall ask you to excuse me."

Both the Colonel and the Adjutant were pardonably shaken by this
unparalleled response.

The