They had travelled in cattle-trucks and on loaded coal-waggons. They had slept in stations and barns and caves of the earth. They had left all their kits behind them at Southampton and possessed only what they carried on their backs. They had washed when they could, and shaved whenever opportunity offered. They had stood-by ready to go anywhere and do anything for anybody at any moment. All of which had always so far petered out many miles to the rear of the fighting, though they had more than once come within sound of the guns. But it had all been to the good. They gained new experiences every day; they grew hard and fit under the taxing work, and each day now was bringing them nearer to that for which they had left home and friends and all that had hitherto made life worth living. And not a man of them but was glad to be there. Ray had wondered much what it would actually feel like to be in a red-hot fight. It had seemed at first as though modern fighting must always be at long range, with no slightest chance of seeing what killed you, or of hitting back except at a venture, the results of which you could not see, and they were all agreed that this was a most unsatisfactory and unsportsmanlike style of business. But, from all they could hear, things were changing in most amazing fashion and there had even been bayonet-work and actual hand-to-hand fighting. The huge German shells, which dug holes big enough to bury an omnibus in, were diabolical, but apparently they did less mischief than might have been expected, and one even got used to them to the point of giving them sporty nick-names and treating them with contempt. He wondered how he and the rest would comport themselves when the time came. They were fine fellows all, but new at the actual red game of killing and being killed, and it was bound to be terribly trying--the first time at all events. He hoped they would bear themselves well and come through it with credit. Any moment they might be ordered to the front. Rumour had it that there was terrific pressure against our long-drawn-out line in places. The Germans wanted to get to Calais and seemed determined to hack their way through at any cost. Well, if it lay with the Old Scottish they would make that cost heavy or they would know the reason why. He thought constantly, in sub-conscious fashion, while his mind was actually dealing promptly and clearly with the inevitable kinks in the day’s work, of them all at home, especially of Lois. “Lady Luard!”--he murmured to himself again, as he sat on his barrel in the station. Yes, it would be a little harder still to leave it all before he had even greeted her in her new estate. But her future was at all events secured. He had made his will before leaving, and old Benfleet had it safely stowed away in his big safe. And, after all, every man in a regiment was not wiped out as a rule, however hot the fighting.