ng for the last twenty
minutes before the Quarter's return to summon up sufficient energy to
follow his cobbers' example. Still, boxes of biscuits would be their
portion, while, getting in early, he would be able to secure easy
freight, flitches of bacon or the like.

He shouldered his load and set off homewards. He rested often for the
first half of the journey, but then, pulling himself together, plugged
steadily upwards. Towards the summit, where the track ran up a
razor-back, his progress was hastened by the Turkish artillery on the
"W" Hills. He deposited his bacon at the Quarter's bivvie, and
wandered down the sap to his ledge under the wall. Delving into a
battered biscuit tin, he produced some characterless dried flour tiles,
a tin of bully and a tin of apricot, the choicest of Deakin. His three
cobbers, who were the only other inhabitants of this section of the
sap, had breakfasted, and now lay, like three mummies, on their
respective ledges. This trench was merely the wing of a sector, and
was not directly opposed to an enemy trench. Here it was the privilege
of his section to make its headquarters every third day, when it was
their additional privilege to do the ration and water fatigues, to
furnish sapping and burying parties, sentries and guards, and such
other toilers as might be necessary; while occasionally, with great
luck and better management, an hour or two on the beach might be worked.

Here, with his back against a traverse, Mac set about his repast. He
devoured half a tin of bully. That was his limit, no matter how hungry
he was, for he was aware by experience of the effects of overmuch
bully. He shied the remainder over the parapet, and promptly set about
his second and last course. The flies were fonder than he of Deakin's
apricot, and he had to be circumspect to dodge them successfully. He
knew too well their other sources of food supply--and was not over keen
on swallowing any, nor of having them beating him for his jam, Deakin's
though it was. With some difficulty he broke the bullet-proof biscuits
into mouthful sizes, grasped the tin of jam between his knees with his
hand over it, and dipping each bit first into the jam, popped it into
his mouth. Mac had good teeth, but, all the same, it took many long
minutes of hard jaw work to get on the outside of a biscuit and a half.
This, he had calculated, was as much dry tack as his daily ration of
dirty water could comfortably count