uartermaster-Sergeant, who is
not accustomed to strenuous exercise, mops his brow and glances
expectantly round the _place_. His eye comes gently to rest upon a
small but hospitable-looking _estaminet_.

Lieutenant Cockerell examines his wrist-watch.

"Half-past ten!" he announces. "Quartermaster-Sergeant!"

"Sirr!" The Quartermaster-Sergeant unglues his longing gaze from the
_estaminet_ and comes woodenly to attention.

"I am going to see the Town Major about a billeting area. I will meet
you and the party here in twenty minutes."

Master Cockerell trots off on his mud-splashed steed, followed by the
respectful and appreciative salutes of his followers--appreciative,
because a less considerate officer would have taken the whole party
direct to the Town Major's office and kept them standing in the
street, wasting moments which might have been better employed
elsewhere, until it was time to proceed with the morning's work.

* * * * *

"How strong are you?" inquired the Town Major.

Cockerell told him. The Town Major whistled.

"That all? Been doing some job of work, haven't you?"

Cockerell nodded, and the Town Major proceeded to examine a
large-scale plan of St. Gregoire, divided up into different-coloured
plots.

"We are rather full up at present," he said; "but the Cemetery Area
is vacant. The Seventeenth Geordies moved out yesterday. You can have
that." He indicated a triangular section with his pencil.

Master Cockerell gave a deprecatory cough.

"We have come here, sir," he intimated dryly, "for a change of scene."

The stout Town Major--all Town Majors are stout--chuckled.

"Not bad for a Scot!" he conceded. "But it's quite a cheery district,
really. You won't have to doss down in the cemetery itself, you know.
These two streets here--" he flicked a pencil--"will hold practically
all your battalion, at its present strength. There's a capital
house in the Rue Jean Jacques Rousseau which will do for Battalion
Headquarters. The corporal over there will give you your _billets de
logement_."

"Are there any other troops in the area, sir?" asked Cockerell, who,
as already indicated, was no child in these matters.

"There ought not to be, of course. But you know what the Heavy Gunners
and the A.S.C. are! If you come across any of them, fire them out. If
they wear too many stars and crowns for you, let me know, and I will
perform the feat myself. You fellows need a good