A fire had been lighted, and, grateful for its warmth, the five Officers of the Company were soon clustering round it, sipping out of their mess tins filled with strong, sweet tea, without milk but very strongly flavoured with rum. Soon the worries and painful memories of the day were dispelled. A feeling almost of contentment stole over them. There is something so particularly adventurous and at the same time soothing about a camp fire. They had all read books at school full of camp fires and fighting and prairies, and they had all more or less envied such a life. Here it was. But the adventure part of it was so minute, and the drudgery and nerve strain so great that the most adventurous soul among them had long since admitted that "if _this_ was Active Service, it was not the life for him!" CHAPTER XIII HEAT AND DUST The Subaltern did not get to sleep until twelve, and the Regiment made another start as early as half-past two. It seemed to him that when necessity drives there is no limit to the nerve force that we have in us! They marched some miles in a westerly direction before they rejoined the main road southwards. To describe in detail the sufferings of that day would be to repeat almost word for word some of the preceding paragraphs. It was just as hot as usual, just as dusty as usual. An order had come from somewhere that there was to be no looting. Men were to be forbidden to snatch an apple from a fruit-strewn orchard, or an egg from a deserted barn! The owners had already fled from their homes, and here Mr. Thomas Atkins was solemnly asked to go hungry and thirsty and to relieve the enemy of one of his greatest difficulties--feeding himself. The Platoon having halted for the usual hourly halt outside an orchard, some of the men broke into it and began to throw apples over the hedge to the others. Seeing the Colonel approaching, the Subaltern realised that something must be done instantly to avert disaster. "What the deuce are you men doing? Come out of it!" he cried. The men came, looking very dejected. The Colonel, pacified, passed by. A second later, the glad work of refreshing the troops was being carried on by a fresh couple of men. It must have been a very similar situation that gave birth to a story that has already become famous. A Tommy was caught by a "brass hat" in the very act of strangling a chicken. Tommy looked up. Was he abashed? Not a bit of it! He did what Mr. Thomas Atkins generally does in a tight corner. He kept his head: he rose magnificently to the occasion. He did not loose the chicken and endeavour to stammer an apology. On the contrary, he continued to strangle it. He took no notice of the "brass hat." As he gave a final twist to the bird's throat he said menacingly, "So you'd try to bite me, would you, you little brute!"