The afternoon in question turned out mild enough to allay even Mrs. Clarke's fears. It was one of those balmy, delicious days in early spring when the earth seems to throb with renewed life, and there is real warmth in the sunshine. The Guild members had dinner earlier than usual, and caught the two o'clock train to Hurford. The field that had been engaged as their temporary camp was close to the Orphanage, and they found all ready for them on their arrival, from the stretchers to the row of nice little boys in uniform upon whom they were to operate. Everything was strictly business-like. The officers and patrol leaders at once took command, and began to instruct each group of ambulance workers in the particular duties they were expected to perform. One detachment started to build a fire (there is a science in the building of fires in the open), a second ran up the Red Cross flag and arranged a temporary hospital with supplies from the transport wagon, while a third went out to render first aid to the wounded. The boys entered thoroughly into the spirit of the affair. A blank charge was fired, at which signal they all dropped down on the grass as "injured". Dorothy, who was told off to No. 3 Corps, flew at the sound of the guns, and pounced upon the first prostrate form she came across. "Are you killed or wounded?" she enquired breathlessly. "Wounded, m'm," replied the boy, with a grin. "But you can't have me, because another lady's got me already. She looks at me and she says: 'Not movable', and she's run to get a spade to dig a 'ole with." "Oh! To put your hip in, I suppose?" "Yes, m'm. They don't bury us unless we're killed." "I should think not!" exclaimed Dorothy, as she hurried away to find a patient who was still unappropriated. "Anybody attending to you?" she asked a solemn, curly-headed little fellow, who lay under the shade of the hedge with arms stretched in a dramatic attitude on either side of him. "No, miss--shot through the lungs, and leg shattered," he replied complacently. "Then it's a case of stop bleeding, bandage, and lift on stretcher. I'll bind you up first, and then call for someone to help to carry you. Can you raise yourself at all on your arm, or are you helpless? Am I hurting you?" "No, miss--but you do tickle me awful!" "Never mind; I've almost finished. Now your leg. Which is it--right or left?" "Left. But lor', if it was really shattered, I'd rather you touched t'other!" "No, you wouldn't. You'd be grateful to me for saving your life. I'm going to whistle for help. Here comes a corporal. Where's my stretcher sling? Now, Marjorie, let us lift him quickly and gently. That was neatly done! We'll have him in hospital in record time." Everybody enjoyed the afternoon, the patrols that performed the camp cookery, the first-aid workers, the nursing sisters at the hospital, and the elect few who were initiated into the elements of signalling.