The sick parade pulled itself together with a click. Collars and the odd button were furtively looked over and done up, caps pulled straight, and no sound broke the silence save a smart unison of “left-right-left” along the muddy road. The R.S.M. looked them over with a gleam in his eye as they passed, and glanced at his watch. “’Alf a minute late, Co’poral Jones,” he shouted. “Break into double time. Double ... march!” The sick parade trotted away steadily--until they got round a bend in the road. “Sick!!!” murmured the R.S.M. “My H’EYE!” A little way further on the parade joined a group composed of the sick of other battalion units, some fifty in all. Corporal Jones handed his sick report to the stretcher-bearer Sergeant, and was told he would have to wait until the last. In half an hour’s time the first name of the men in his party was called--Lance-Corporal MacMannish. “What’s wrong?” asked the doctor briskly. “’A have got a pain in here, sirr,” said MacMannish, “an’ it’s sair, sorr,” pointing to the centre of his upper anatomy. “Show me your tongue? H’m. Eating too much! Colic. Two number nine’s. Light duty.” Lance-Corporal MacMannish about-turned with a smile of ecstatic joy and departed, having duly swallowed the pills. “What did ye get, Jock?” “Och! Light duty,” said the hero with the air of a wronged man justified, “but _you’ll_ be no gettin’ such a thing, Bowering!” “And why not?” demanded the latter scowling. However, his name being then called put an end to the discussion. “I have pains in me head and back, sir,” explained Mr. Bowering, “and no sleep for two nights.” The doctor looked him over with a critical, expert eye. “Give him a number nine. Medicine and duty. Don’t drink so much, Bowering! That’s enough. Clear out!” “_He’s_ no doctor,” declared the victim when he reached the street. “Huh! I wouldn’t trust a _cat_ with ’im!” The next man got no duty, and this had such an effect on him that he almost forgot he was a sick man, and walloped a pal playfully in the ribs on the doorstep, which nearly led to trouble. Of the remaining ten, all save one were awarded medicine and duty, but they took so long to tell the story of their symptoms, and managed to develop such good possible cases, that it was 8.45 before the parade fell in again to march back to billets, a fact which they all thoroughly appreciated! Wonderful the swinging step with which they set forth, Corporal Jones at the head, Lance-Corporal MacMannish, quietly triumphant, bringing up the rear. They passed the Colonel in the village, and he stopped Corporal Jones to inquire what they were. “Your men are marching very well, Corporal. ‘A’ Company? Ah, yes. Fatigue party, hey?” “No-sir, sick-parade-sir!” “Sick Parade! God bless my soul! Sick! How many men were given medicine and duty?” “Nine, sir.” “Nine, out of thirteen.... ‘A’ Company is on a route march this morning, is it not?” “Yessir.”