I babbled words of gratitude. The prospect of a leap from a moving
train at 6 a.m. was exhilarating. I might hope that I should find my
servant and my luggage rolling over me on the platform when I reached
it. Then all would be well. The colonel, moved to further kindness by
my gratitude, invited me to travel in a coach which was specially
reserved for his use.

The art of travelling comfortably in peace or war lies in knowing
when to bully, when to bribe, and when to sue. Neither bullying nor
bribing would have got me to B. If I had relied on those methods I
should not have arrived there for days, should perhaps never have
arrived there, should certainly have been most uncomfortable. By
assuming the manner, and as far as possible the appearance, of a
small child lost in London I moved the pity of the only man who could
have helped me. But those circumstances were exceptional. As a
general rule I think bullying and bribing are better ways of getting
what you want on a journey.

I travelled in great comfort. There were three of us--the colonel, a
colonial commissioner, in uniform but otherwise unconnected with the
army, and myself. There was also the colonel's servant, who cooked a
dinner for us on a Primus stove.

The train stopped frequently at wayside stations. There was no
conceivable reason why it should have stopped at all. We neither
discharged nor took up any passengers. But the halts were a source of
entertainment for the men. Most of them and all the officers got out
every time the train stopped. It was the duty of the colonel, as O.C.
Train, to see that they all got in again.

It was a laborious job, not unlike that of a sheep dog. The colonial
commissioner and I tried to help. I do not think we were much use.
But I have this to my credit. I carried a message to the engine
driver and told him to whistle loud and long before he started.
Having read long ago Matthew Arnold's Essay on Heine, I know the
French for "whistle" or a word which conveyed the idea of whistling
to the engine driver.

When it became dark the worst of this labour was over for the
colonel. The men stayed in their carriages. I suppose they went to
sleep. We dined. It was a pleasant and satisfying meal. We all
contributed to it. The colonel's servant produced soup, hot and
strong, tasting slightly of catsup, made out of small packets of
powder labelled "Oxtail." Then we had bully beef--perhaps the
"unexpended portion" of the colonel's