lothes, and cleaning up, instantly began.
Ingrained soldierly cleanliness of the men was displayed. Without any
order, and in spite of their weariness, whenever they were halted over
an hour in the daylight--which had very seldom happened--they would
immediately set about shaving, and cleaning themselves and their rifles.
They shaved with the cold water, poured from their water-bottles into
the lids of their canteens. There was a vast rubbing of bolts, and
"pulling through" of barrels. An erstwhile barber in the Senior
Subaltern's Platoon did tremendous business with a pair of scissors and
a comb, his patrons being seated on an upturned ammunition-case.

They had not halted long before a "mail" came in. The Subaltern was not
among the lucky few who received letters or small parcels. Not that he
minded much. From whomever the letter might come, or in whatever vein it
had been written, he admitted to himself that he would feel savage with
it, and would have dismissed it as "hot air" if it were sympathetic, or
as "hard-hearted" if it were anything else.

He wrote home on the now famous postcards that inform the addressee
that, on such and such a date, the sender was alive and well. He felt
very relieved that at last he had an opportunity to relieve the anxiety
of the people at home.

The best part of the two hours was spent in "franking"--that is
censoring--his men's letters. It was a very unwelcome task, and although
he thoroughly appreciated the military necessity, he cordially hated
being forced, as it were, to pry into their private affairs.

Meanwhile the wind had dried them, and the sun was high in the heavens.
Rations arrived, and were distributed. The sun and the tea warmed them,
and in the afternoon a little sleep was possible.

The Subaltern was aroused at about four o'clock, and the march was
continued. The Senior Subaltern had received a box of Abdullas in the
post, which he kindly shared with his two juniors. The cigarettes seemed
enormously fat, and the tobacco extraordinarily pale. They had smoked
nothing but the little "Caporal" French cigarettes--and not many of
them--since their own supply had given out. They had said all along how
much they longed for "decent English" cigarettes, and now they had got
them they were not at all so sure that they liked them.

There was a Lance-Corporal in the Company who was not as generous to
his fellows as the Senior Subaltern had been. He smoked the cigarettes
he h