uite open to view. The fact is, I think, that Hun
aircraft very seldom indeed gets across into our preserves.

[Illustration: LE MONT DES CATS
Near YPRES
In the early days of the war spies used to signal from the monastery on
the top of this hill. The country round about is quite flat and
water-logged.]

_July 6._

[Sidenote: THE ROADS NEAR DRANONTRE]

Overnight it appears in orders that the roads from ---- to ---- via ----
are to be reported on with reference to their suitability for heavy
transport, guns, cavalry, infantry, etc.

So after an early breakfast Hunt comes round, with Swallow for me and
Jezebel for himself, haversack rations for us both, and feeds for the
horses. I feel very much on the qui-vive, as I haven't seen that
particular part before.

A grey warm day. Some miles to go due south before we get near our
destination. As we approach it we find, as usual, roads and railways
being made, and fatigue-parties repainting tents with blotches and
stripes. Then come notices, "No traffic along this road," or, "This road
liable to be shelled," with signboards at every corner, "To ----" or
some other place in the trenches. Sometimes the notices say
"Something-or-other Avenue" or "Burlington Arcade," etc.--nicknames, but
recognized officially. And all the time we are passing endless lorries
and Red Cross waggons and troops and dug-out camps. As we get closer the
signs of shelling get worse, and children are seen no longer. Old men,
though, occasionally observed working in a field quite unperturbed.
Rarely a French soldier or an interpreter with his sphinx badges. All
this quite lost on Hunt, who has "quite got used to abroad, thank you,
sir." He is eating chocolate or something, half a horse-length (the
correct distance) behind me.

Now on our left is a famous ridge, with a ruined village on the top.
Not, you understand, a ridge in the Swiss sense, but rather in the
Norfolk sense. I should like to go and see it, but it's too open to the
Boche's eye, and I don't want to dismount yet. So we curve round
right-handed a bit. Aha! "To ----." Nous voila! Follow down this muddy
track under cover of the ridge, and we arrive at ----. A wood just
beyond the little town. Oh, mournful wood! "Bois epais, redouble ton
ombre." But they say the anemones and the primroses were as merry and
sweet as ever this spring. Bravo little wood!

The village is, of course, evacuated by all inhabitants. The houses all
in ruins.