xing, has become more thorough; their courage has developed, and,
in most of them, now verges on temerity.

I have had two new men in my troop for a short time: Ladoucette and
Roger. They are Territorials, men of from thirty-eight to forty, who,
wearying of the depot and envying their juniors in the field, asked
and obtained leave to rejoin the regiment at the Front. They
fascinated me at once by their high spirits, their jovial chaff, and
the cheerfulness with which they undertook the most laborious tasks.
But I had not yet seen them under fire.

I looked about for them in the line of skirmishers. I tried to
distinguish them among all the backs and necks lying before me. And I
very soon guessed that they were at the extreme right of the troop,
for I heard smothered laughter at that corner; evidently Ladoucette
was cracking some of the highly-spiced jokes characteristic of him.
Yes, I saw his head lifted above the grass on the slope, his bristling
moustache, his brilliant eyes, and sarcastic mouth. I could not hear
what he was saying, for the firing was still furious, but I saw from
the smiling faces of his neighbours that he had, as usual, found the
right word for the occasion, the word that provokes laughter under
bullet fire and makes men forget danger. Not far from him his
inseparable chum, Roger, guffawed appreciatively, and seemed to be
enjoying himself thoroughly. I rejoiced to think that I had got two
first-rate recruits, worthy to fight side by side with the fine
fellows of my brave troop.

Suddenly a dark figure emerged from the wood, then two more, then
another three, then more. Was it the enemy? Without waiting for the
word of command some of the men pointed their rifles at the mysterious
shadows running in single file towards us.

"Don't fire! Don't fire!"

We had, fortunately, recognised the uniform of our infantry Chasseurs.
But this increased rather than allayed our anxiety. We naturally
imagined the direst catastrophes and feared the most terrible
consequences when we saw those in whom we had trusted, those who
occupied the trenches nearest to Bixschoote, beating a retreat. The
first of the fugitives came up to us. They seemed completely
demoralised. Haggard, ragged, and black with dust, they crossed the
road at a run. We tried in vain to stop them. As they passed us they
shouted something unintelligible, of which we could catch nothing but
the words:

"They're coming, ... they're co