ow,
we are keeping the Boches out of "Wipers," and a bit over. So we
stretch our legs in the wood, and keep the flooded trench for the next
emergency.

Let us approach a group of four which is squatting sociably round a
small and inadequate fire of twigs, upon which four mess-tins are
simmering. The quartette consists of Privates Cosh and Tosh, together
with Privates Buncle and Nigg, preparing their midday meal.

"Tak' off your damp chup, Jimmy," suggested Tosh to Buncle, who was
officiating as stoker. "Ye mind what the Captain said aboot smoke?"

"It wasna the Captain: it was the Officer," rejoined Buncle
cantankerously.

(It may here be explained, at the risk of another digression, that no
length of association or degree of intimacy will render the average
British soldier familiar with the names of his officers. The Colonel
is "The C.O."; the Second in Command is "The Major"; your Company
Commander is "The Captain," and your Platoon Commander "The Officer."
As for all others of commissioned rank in the regiment, some
twenty-four in all, they are as nought. With the exception of the
Quartermaster, in whose shoes each member of the rank and file hopes
one day to stand, they simply do not exist.)

"Onyway," pursued the careful Tosh, "he said that if any smoke was
shown, all fires was tae be pitten oot. So mind and see no' to get a
cauld dinner for us all, Jimmy!"

"Cauld or het," retorted the gentleman addressed, "it's little dinner
I'll be gettin' this day! And ye ken fine why!" he added darkly.

Private Tosh removed a cigarette from his lower lip and sighed
patiently.

"For the last time," he announced, with the air of a righteous man
suffering long, "I did not lay ma hand on your dirrty wee bit ham!"

"Maybe," countered the bereaved Buncle swiftly, "you did not lay your
hand upon it; but you had it tae your breakfast for all that, Davie!"

"I never pit ma hand on it!" repeated Tosh doggedly.

"No? Then I doot you gave it a bit kick with your foot," replied the
inflexible Buncle.

"Or got some other body tae luft it for him!" suggested Private Nigg,
looking hard at Tosh's habitual accomplice, Cosh.

"I had it pitten in an auld envelope from hame, addressed with my
name," continued the mourner. "It couldna hae got oot o' that by
accident!"

"Weel," interposed Cosh, with forced geniality, "it's no a thing tae
argie-bargie aboot. Whatever body lufted it, it's awa' by this time.
It's a fine day, boys!"