On the march next day, both the friends found to their cost that a sybaritic life in the lap of luxury is not the best preparation for an active-service route march. The first halt saw them not only badly blown and streaming with sweat, but also beginning to be footsore. "Umph!" said the sergeant caustically. "It's easy to see 'ow some people spend their leave. What you two want is a little 'ard P.T. 'Owever, some o' these working parties you're so fond of 'll soon put you right." Sergeant Lees was an economical humorist. Soon a whistle blew, and the column fell in again. At every step the poor condition of Privates Higgins and Grant became more noticeable, and the rest of the section, swinging along in fine style, only showed them up more plainly. The weight of their packs began to increase steadily and relentlessly, until it seemed that something must break soon. A dull pain began to make itself felt across their shoulders, increasing little by little until it became a raging torment like a toothache. They set their teeth and plodded on; the battalion was proud of its marching. At last, when the pain was wellnigh unbearable, the blessed sound of the whistle was heard. The battalion fell out for another ten minutes' halt. The expression "fell out" was true in its most literal sense of Alf and Bill. They lay side by side, every aching muscle relaxed, determined to make good use of every second of their rest. It was at this auspicious moment that Mr. Stockley chose to notice them. He himself seemed as fresh as when he started out, despite the fact that he had been carrying two men's rifles in addition to his own kit. He came swinging along the road during the halt with a jaunty step and an air of physical well-being which it made Alf and Bill feel faint to look upon. He stopped and regarded the collapsed forms of the two friends with a disapproving air. "Very out of condition," he commented. They made convulsive efforts to rise, but he waved them back. "No, no!" he said. "Lie still. Need a rest. But warn you--won't do. Going into the line; every man must be fit for anything. Must sweat off that fat." He went off, leaving the two men more conscious of their flabbiness than ever. "Makes me tired, 'e do," complained Bill. "I don't b'lieve I can march another step. I've a good mind not to fall in at all." But at this moment a welcome message reached them from the head of the column. Their destination, it appeared, was now only half an hour's march away; and as they were now entering the forward area, platoons would march from here at intervals of a hundred yards. As the companies were marching in alphabetical order, this meant that "C" Company would have a further rest while "A" and "B" were getting under way. Alf and Bill, giving much thanks for this relief, lay down again; and when at last No. 9 Platoon moved on again they were able to move with it in comparative comfort.