Leaving the ruins behind we gained the main road, and on arriving at the bridge where we had stopped on our journey out, I parted with the company, thinking to make my way to a café by a short cut over some fields. I wished to heaven afterwards that I had not done so. I cut across a ditch, feeling my way as much as possible with a stick. But I had not gone far before I knew I had lost my way. The rain was driving pitilessly in my face, but I stumbled on in the inky darkness, often above my knees in thick clay mud. Several times I thought I should never reach the road. It was far worse than being under fire. I must have staggered along for about two miles when I perceived a light ahead. Never was sight more welcome. Remember, I had about fifty to sixty pounds weight on my back, and having had little or no sleep for five nights my physical strength was at a low ebb. It seemed hours before I reached that house, and when at last I got there I collapsed on the floor. I struggled up again in a few minutes, and asked the bewildered occupants to give me hot coffee, and after resting for an hour, I made again for Furnes reaching it in the early hours of the morning. Going to my café, I went to bed, and slept for eighteen hours; the following day I packed up and returned to London. A day or two afterwards I was sitting comfortably in a cushioned chair in the private theatre at our London office watching these selfsame scenes being projected upon the screen. Ah! thought I, how little does the great public, for whom they are intended, know of the difficulties and dangers, the trials and tribulations, the kinematograph camera man experiences in order to obtain these pictures. CHAPTER III WITH THE GOUMIERS AT LOMBARTZYDE A Morning of Surprises--The German Positions Bombarded from the Sea--Filming the Goumiers in Action--How these Tenacious Fighters Prepare for Battle--Goumier Habits and Customs--I Take the Chief's Photograph for the First Time--And Afterwards take Food with Him--An Interesting and Fruitful Adventure Ends Satisfactorily. Once more I went to Furnes, and while sipping my coffee at the café I heard a remark made about the Goumiers (the Arab horsemen employed by the French as scouts). Quickly realising the possibilities in a film of such a body of men, I made enquiries of the speakers as to their whereabouts. "Ah, monsieur, they are on the sand-dunes near Nieuport. They are veritable fiends, monsieur, with the Bosches, who run away from them like cats. They are terrible fighters." After such a glowing account, I thought the sooner I interviewed these fighters the better. Starting out next morning, I made a bee-line for the coast.