'ostler?' I
shouted, in dismay.

"The 'ostler, who, as I informed you, is one of Satan's imps, answered
in incomprehensible French, led the horse forth from the yard, and,
giving it a mighty blow on the rump, sent it clattering forth into the
outer darkness. In my fear of losing it--for I must be at Pozieres at
dawn--I ran after it, but it ran too fast in the darkness, and I stopped
and tried to grope my way back to the stableyard to kill that 'ostler,
thereby serving God, and other British officers, for he was the devil's
agent. But I could not find the yard again. It had disappeared! It was
swallowed up in Cimmerian gloom. So I was without revenge and without
horse, and, as you will perceive, sir--unless you are a bloody
staff-officer who doesn't perceive anything--I am utterly undone. I am
also horribly drunk, and I must apologize for leaning so heavily on your
arm. It's awfully good of you, anyway, old man."

The crowd was mostly moving, driven indoors by the rain. The woman
who had spoken to me said, "I heard a horse's hoofs upon the bridge,
la-bas."

Then she went away with her apron over her head.

Thomas and I walked each side of the officer, giving him an arm. He
could not walk straight, and his legs played freakish tricks with him.
All the while he talked in a strain of high comedy interlarded with grim
little phrases, revealing an underlying sense of tragedy and despair,
until his speech thickened and he became less fluent. We spent a
fantastic hour searching for his horse. It was like a nightmare in
the darkness and rain. Every now and then we heard, distinctly, the
klip-klop of a horse's hoofs, and went off in that direction, only to be
baffled by dead silence, with no sign of the animal. Then again, as we
stood listening, we heard the beat of hoofs on hard pavements, in the
opposite direction, and walked that way, dragging the boy, who was
getting more and more incapable of walking upright. At last we gave up
hope of finding the horse, though the young officer kept assuring us
that he must find it at all costs. "It's a point of honor," he
said, thickly. "Not my horse, you know Doctor's horse. Devil to pay
to-morrow."

He laughed foolishly and said:

"Always devil to pay in morning."

We were soaked to the skin.

"Come home with me," I said. "We can give you a shake-down."

"Frightfully good, old man. Awfully sorry, you know, and all that. Are
you a blooming general, or something? But I must fin