The complete lack of any word from Lois and Ray added not a little to their anxieties. The Colonel, indeed, never would admit any possibility of mischance in the matter. “Don’t you worry, Mrs Mother,” he would adjure her. “They’re having the time of their lives somewhere or other, I’ll wager you a sovereign.” “If they’re shut up in Germany it may be a very unpleasant time,” argued Mrs Dare. “But they’re not. Ray’s no fool and he got out of that trap instanter. Of that I’m certain. Where to I can’t, of course, say. Tirol seems nearest, from the map----” “That’s Austria,” said Mrs Dare quietly. “Well then, Switzerland--Russia--Italy--anywhere,--I don’t know. But if he’s still in Germany he’s a much bigger fool than I ever thought him. They’re all right. Don’t you worry!”--which was all most excellent in intention but did not bring to the anxious mother-heart the comfort that one word from the missing ones would have done. But the Colonel was too busy to waste time and energy in worrying, and, besides, he was not given that way. Immediately on the declaration of war, he had donned his uniform and gone down to Whitehall and tendered his services in any capacity whatever. His bluff, antique enthusiasm overcame even the natural repugnance of War-Office messengers to further the wishes of any but their own immediate chiefs, and he succeeded in seeing Lord Kitchener, whom he had not met since they toiled up Nile together in quest of Gordon. The quiet, level-eyed man, who had gone so far and high since those days, gave him cordial greeting and expressed the hope that the younger generation would exhibit equal public spirit, in which case this belated creation of a sufficient fighting force would prosper to the extent of his wishes, which he acknowledged were great, though not more than the dire necessities of the case called for. He tactfully switched the Colonel’s enthusiasm on to the recruiting branch line, and the fiery little warrior had since then been devoting himself, heart and soul, to the business of presenting Kitchener’s Army to the youth of Willstead and neighbourhood as the one and only legitimate outlet for its duty to its King and Country. With his V.C. and his Crimean and Mutiny and African medals, he made a brave show on a platform, and his fervid exhortations persuaded many from the outer back rows to the plain deal tables where the recruiting forms awaited them. He toured the neighbouring villages in a motor car, and until the muddle-headed mismanagement by the authorities of the earlier comers cast somewhat of a chill on their waiting fellows, the Colonel was a great success. Noel and Gregor MacLean were still impatiently hanging on for the War Office to decide whether or not the London Scottish were to be permitted to form a Second Battalion. And Noel, with the impetuosity of youth, grew so restive under the strain at times that he stoutly urged Gregor to enrol with him in one of the regiments of Kitchener’s army.