he excitement dispelled his fatigue, but the men were openly
incredulous. "The ruddy 'Oolans 'ere a'ready! They're only tellin' us
that, to make us march!"

The first fight! How would it turn out? How would the men shape? Could
the ammunition supply be depended upon? But above all, what would he be
like? Would he feel afraid? If so, would he be able to hide it? Would
his men follow him well? Perhaps he might be wounded (parts of him
shrank from the thought), or killed. No, somehow he felt it was
impossible that he would be killed. These and a thousand more such
questions flashed through his brain as the march continued northwards.

The hourly halts were decreased from ten to about three minutes. The
excitement of the future dissolved the accumulating fatigue of the three
days. The very weight of his sword and haversack was forgotten.

It was Sunday morning. The bells of the village churches were ringing,
and the women and children, decked in their Sunday best, were going
calmly to church, just as if the greatest battle that, up to then,
history had ever seen were not about to be fought around their very
homesteads.

A waterworks was passed, and at last the crossroads were reached. There
was a wait while the Battalion in front of them deployed. Officers were
loading their revolvers, the men charging their magazines. One Company
left as advanced guard, and very soon the Battalion was on its way to
its appointed sector of the battlefield.

They threw aside a hastily improvised barricade of ploughshares, and
hurried on to the little village which was to be their especial care in
the impending battle, known rather inadequately as "Mons."

CHAPTER IV

MONS

Then came the village of Harmigne--just a few cottages on either side of
the road, and soon the companies debouched from the village to take up
the positions allotted to them.

In war it is well known that he who sees most is likely to take least
away. It was not the soldier's duty to gaze about him to see what was
happening. He must enlarge his bit of trench, and be ready to meet the
enemy when he himself is attacked. Therefore, if you ask a veteran of
Mons about the battle, all he will be able to tell you as likely as not
is, "Marching, and digging, and then marching mostly, sir."

The Company on the left was astride a railway embankment in front of a
large mine. The Subaltern's Company was directly in front of the village
itself; another Company to t