Old-soldier experience took him straight to a good place on the boat, and room to lie down on a cushioned settee before it was filled up, and he spent the passage in making up some of his early morning lost sleep. On arrival at the other side he found that his train was not due to start for up-country until after midnight—“not late enough to be worth going to bed before, and too late to sit up with comfort,” as he declared. He had a good dinner at the Officers’ Club, after rather a long wait for a vacant seat, but after it could find no place to sit down in the crowded smoke-room or reading-rooms. However, he knew enough to take him round to a popular hotel bar, where he spent a couple of joyful hours meeting a string of old friends passing to or from all parts of “the line,” and swapping news and gossip of mutually known places and people up front. Lollie had brought along with him a young fellow he had met in the club. Bullivant was returning from his first leave, and so was rather ignorant of “the ropes,” and had begged Lollie to put him wise to any wrinkles he knew for passing the time and smoothing the journey up. “’Pon my word,” Lollie confided to him after the departure of another couple of old friends, “it’s almost worth coming back to meet so many pals and chin over old times and places.” “I don’t like this fool notion of no whisky allowed,” said Bullivant. “Now, you’re an old bird; don’t you know any place we can get a real drink?” “Plenty,” said Lollie. “If you don’t mind paying steep for ’em and meeting a crowd of people and girls I’ve no use for myself.” “I’m on,” replied Bullivant. “Lead me to it. But don’t let’s forget that twelve-something train.”