Those are the little things which occasionally paint the grey with a dab of white; the prowls at night--the joys of the sniper who has just bagged a winner and won the bag of nuts--all help to keep the spirits up when the pattern of earth in your particular hole causes a rush of blood to the head. Incidentally this little comedy was destined to be Jim Denver's last experience of the Hun at close quarters for many weeks to come. The grey settled down like a pall, to lift in the fulness of time, to _the_ black and white day of his life. But for the present--peace. And yet only peace as far as he was concerned personally. That very night, close to him so that he saw it all, some other battalions had a chequered hour or so--which is all in the luck of the game. To-day it's the man over the road--to-morrow it's you.... They occurred about 2 a.m.--the worries of the men over the road. Denver had moved to his other hole, courteously known as the reserve trenches, and there seated in his dug-out he discussed prospects generally with the Major. There were rumours that the division was moving from Ypres, and not returning there--a thought which would kindle hope in the most pessimistic. "Don't you believe it," answered the Major gloomily. "Those rumours are an absolute frost." "Cheer up! cully, we'll soon be dead." Denver laughed. "Have some rum." He poured some out into a mug and passed the water. "Quiet to-night--isn't it? I was reading to-day that the Italians----" "You aren't going to quote any war expert at me, are you?" "Well--er--I was: why not?" "Because I have a blood-feud with war experts. I loathe and detest the breed. Before I came out here their reiterated statement made monthly that we should be on the Rhine by Tuesday fortnight was a real comfort. We always got to Tuesday fortnight--but we've never actually paddled in the bally river." "To err is human; to get paid for it is divine," murmured Jim. "Bah!" the Major filled his pipe aggressively. "What about the steam-roller, what about the Germans being reduced to incurable epileptics in the third line trenches--what about that drivelling ass who said the possession of heavy guns was a disadvantage to an army owing to their immobility?" "Have some more rum, sir?" remarked Jim soothingly. "But I could have stood all that--they were trifles." The Major was getting warmed up to it. "This is what finished me." He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. "Read that, my boy--read that and ponder." Jim took the paper and glanced at it. "I carry that as my talisman. In the event of my death I've given orders for it to be sent to the author." "But what's it all about?" asked Denver.