Further to the rear were farm buildings and a glimpse of hodden gray kilts hovering about. So, with a fresh stock of breath, and an amazing new hope of life, they dashed across one by one, with the bullets hailing past in sheets and ripping white splinters off a gate they had to go through. How any man got through alive, they never knew. But they did somehow. Only two men got hit. Ray, last man as a matter of duty, saw young MacGillivray just in front stagger suddenly and nearly fall. He slipped his arm through the boy’s with a cheery “Keep up!” and raced him into safety, and they bound him up so that he could go on. The other man got it in the shoulder just as he whirled through the gate. He made light of it, but they tied him up also and prepared for the next move. For the farm was after all only one stage on the road. There were Germans all round them, they were told, except for one possible opening in the rear. And that they instantly took. First, another minute of rapid-firing by every available man to give the enemy pause, then off through a wood, across a beet-field on which machine-guns were playing for all they were worth, across another field of mixed rifle and machine-gun fire, and so at last to a road up which British troops and guns and Maxims were racing to thrust a stopper into the gap. The Hodden-Grays just tumbled into the ditch behind the guns and thankfully panted their souls back. They were still alive--some of them! They could hardly realise it. Ray dropped his humming head into his folded arms as he lay full length on his face. The homely smell of earth and grass was like new life. He chewed some grass with relish. After the smoke and taste of blood it was delicious. To be alive after all that! It was amazing--incredible almost. He thought of Lois and thanked God fervently for them both. He did not know what they had done. He only knew that it had been a hot time and that somehow, by God’s grace, he was still alive. He hoped they had given a good account of themselves. They had certainly had to fall back--but in face of such tremendous odds it had been inevitable and he thought no one could blame them. Anyway they had done their best. But he felt just a trifle despondent about it all. Falling back was not a Scottish custom. He was sitting by the roadside smoking a cigarette to settle the jumpy feeling inside him and soothe his ruffled feelings, when the Adjutant came along. “You had a hot time, Luard.” “It was a trifle warm. They were too many for us, but we did the best we could under the circumstances.” “You did magnificently. The General said the Scottish had done what two out of three Regular Battalions would have failed to do. The Staff are saying they saved the situation last night.” “You don’t say so!” said Ray, cocking his bonnet, and feeling five times the man he was a minute before. “Well, I’m glad they appreciate us. You can always count on the Scottish doing its level best.”