ld not arrive here for
three hours, (2) that it had not run at all the day before, owing to
engine trouble, and (3) that the sea washed away parts of the line most
days. He would then propose a second breakfast. About 12 the train would
arrive and the party be packed like herrings in the narrow trucks. At
1.30 the one person who really ran the line--the engine driver--would
have finished his lunch, and would proceed to refresh his iron steed by
the simple expedient of pouring in water from a canvas bucket. Now comes
the great moment--will she start or won't she? There is a puffing, a
snorting, a few wild jerks, and then amid a tremendous scene of
enthusiasm the 8.30 moves slowly off.

"Six an hour from 'ome an' duty![1]
Keep it up till we arrive."

And we would go

"Bumping round the Bay of Tina
Cocked up on a truss of hay."

[Footnote 1: _Songs on Service._--Crawsley Williams.]

But the author of this poem was a gunner--the infantry did without the
hay. On the right lies the deep blue of the Mediterranean, its waves
often washing the track. On the left the light blue of the lakes
stretched away till it mingled with the blue of the sky, and no man
could say where water ended and sky began. Occasionally there would be
islets, dark blots apparently hanging in the air, or a flock of far-off
marsh birds, with legs amazingly lengthened and distorted by the mirage.
Port Said would be reached about 3.30--and then the Canal had to be
crossed. The return journey would probably be worse. One returning party
paraded in good time for the 5 a.m. at Port Said. They left at midday,
but on reaching the only siding on the line, about half-way to their
destination, they found the up-train stranded with the engine broken
down. Their engine therefore deserted them and hauled the derelict train
into Port Said where the drinks are. They themselves reached camp
between eight and nine at night. So the journey cut rather badly into
the three days' leave. Officers who were free to do so would return by
the Egyptian State Railway west of the Canal, as far as Kantara, and
then go up by the desert line to Romani, perched on a truck of tibbin--a
bumpy and smutty ride. It was no uncommon thing, especially at night,
for the trains to break in two, as the suddenly varying gradients among
the sand hills put a tremendous strain on the couplings, and one would
be left stranded in the desert until the forward half reached a station,
wher