e gates.

There was nothing else for it: we made the long tedious journey back,
out of the fog and into it again, and so got on the right track.

Weariness through lack of sleep and the dampness of the air made one
feel chilly, and I got off my horse and walked. The horses stepped out
mechanically; the men had lost their chirpiness. There was a half-hour
or so when I felt melancholy and depressed: the feeling of helplessness
against the triumphant efficiency of the Boche got on one's nerves.
Wasn't this talk of luring him on a myth? Why was he allowed to sweep
forward at this overpowering pace, day after day, when each of our big
advances had been limited to one hard, costly attack--and then stop? I
quickened my step, and walked forward to where A Battery moved along
the same road.

"Hullo, Dumble," I said. "You and C are running as separate batteries
again, aren't you? How did you leave the cider-cellar?"

"We came back from there at about 5 P.M." There was a big discussion as
to whether we should come farther back. The colonel wanted to stay, and
the --rd's B Battery were in action there until four this morning. It
was a Divisional decision that there should be a retirement to the next
ridge. The poor old infantry were fed to the teeth. They'd sweated
blood digging trenches all day on the Caillouel ridge, and then in the
evening had to fall back and start digging again.

"Have you seen the colonel?" I asked.

"He was still there with General ---- when we came away. The --rd
relieved us last night, instead of first thing this morning; and we got
down to Grandru, and had three hours' sleep before your note arrived."

"Battery's pretty done, I suppose?"

"Well, it was just about time we came out of action. Men and horses
would have been all-in in another day."

We crossed the fine broad canal, watched by the French soldiers
guarding the bridge. Dumble was silent for some seconds, and then
muttered, "You know, I hate to be coming back like this with the French
looking on."

"Yes, I know," I replied,--"but they are good soldiers, and they
understand."

"Yes--when I think of poor old Harville, and the fight he put up----"
he broke off; and we trudged along.

"Do you know Harville always kept that speech of Beatty's in his
pocket-book, that speech where he said England would have to be
chastened and turn to a new way of life before we finished the war?"
said Dumble later.

"Yes, he was like that--old Harvill