ant, accompanied by gesticulations
towards the road leading out of the town. Assuredly some fresh devilment
was rife, and for the moment, anyway, the cup had slipped. An attack on
the town was expected by a large detachment of cavalry. The wretched men
had to be hurried out, to line a row of hedges to the west of the town.
They waited about half-an-hour, but saw not a sign of the famous
square-crested Uhlan helmet. It appeared that the enemy had been content
with destroying the canal bridge, which formed the communication between
Maroilles and Landrecies, and had then withdrawn. There was a whole
brigade in Maroilles, which was therefore cut off from the rest of the
division, and from its natural line of retreat. That, however, did not
greatly upset the rank and file, and billets were at last achieved.

The Subaltern found that he was billeted in the same house as the
Headquarters of the Battalion--Colonel, Second in Command, Adjutant,
etc. His servant brought him his valise from the Regimental Transport,
and he began to change the offending boots for a fresh pair, without
nails.

Some one procured a footbath, and ablutions began.

The Medical Officer came in to say that the Colonel seemed to be very
ill. The Subaltern was glad he had declined the offer of his horse. He
then began to shave and wash. Just as he was in the middle of this, with
his boots and puttees off, his Captain came in to say that his Platoon
was being sent off as infantry escort to a battery of artillery. By the
time he had redressed himself, the Battery and his Platoon had both
gone. The streets were filled by French peasants, as usual excited and
garrulous, and by men settling down to their billets. The Subaltern
failed absolutely to discover what route his Platoon had taken, but
pursuing the road along which they had come, he soon left the town.

It was raining and blowing most fiercely; the darkness was intense,
otherwise absolute silence reigned. Suddenly, excitedly, a voice,
saturated with fear, cried out from the darkness, "Who goes there?" A
face, with a bayonet in front of it, loomed up from the side of the
road. "Friend!" this tersely. "Sentry, have you seen a battery of
artillery and a platoon of ----shires pass here?"

"No, sir; you're nearly in the outpost line. There's only Royal
Blankshires in front, sir."

So they had evidently not come this way. Where next? They must be found.
He felt that to lose his men would be a sort of dis