clearly against the pale sky, faintly yellow with the reflected glory of
the sunset at their backs. Lights momentarily twinkled, now here, now
there, intermittently along the whole line, as far as they could see. It
was just as if matches were being struck, and instantly blown out again.
But all the time the low, booming noise floated across to them. It was
the German heavy artillery, slinging over heavier projectiles than, so
far, it had been their bad fortune to meet.

Just as they were entering a little village, nestling half-way down the
slope, a tremendous explosion happened. There was a thunder-clap of
noise, and a perfect cloud of earth and stones and wood was thrown high
into the air. It was their introduction to the famous "Jack Johnson."

But, "Jack Johnson" or no "Jack Johnson," they marched on into the
village, and were allotted billets for the night. The men of the Company
were very comfortably accommodated in a barn half filled with dry hay,
which, of course, is a great deal more pleasant to sleep upon than
straw. The Officers went into a little cottage by the barn, and, having
intimated to the owner of it that they were willing to buy anything she
could sell them to eat or drink, flung off their equipment and went out
into the little farmyard.

The air was rosy with the sunset light; even the rising dust was golden.
The sky overhead was the palest of dusky whites. It was not a sky: it
was just Eternity. Out of it, infinitely far, yet comparatively close, a
few stars were beginning to wink.

The men in the yard were cooking their evening meal over a few little
fires, squatting over them, eyeing anxiously the brewing tea or
frizzling bacon. It was impossible to feel nervous or discontented. The
very atmosphere was benign. It seemed as if "God was in His Heaven," and
all was well with the World.

CHAPTER XXIV

SATURDAY NIGHT

Every picture wakened in the mind of the reader by the preceding
chapters should be bathed in the brightest of sunshine, under the bluest
of skies, and the horizons should quiver with the blue heat. From now
onwards he must imagine grey skies, often streaming rain, and always
muddy roads and sodden grass.

That day saw the inauguration of a new kind of misery for our troops.
Dust, heat and thirst, their previous tormentors, retired in favour of
mud, chill and an unappeasable hunger. Their overstrained nerves and
worn bodies rendered them very susceptible even to the f