"Why? Why, by every law of probability!" answered the Doctor. "Take any collection of seventy men the sum of whose ages divided by seventy gives an average age of thirty-four--which is the mean age of our corps, for I've worked it out: then by the most favourable rates of mortality three at least should die every year." "War is a fearful thing!" commented Captain Pond. "But, dammit, I'm putting the argument on a _civilian_ basis! I say that even in time of peace, if you take any seventy men the sum of whose ages divided by seventy gives thirty-four, you ought in five years to average a loss of fifteen men." "Then," murmured Captain Pond, "all I can say is that peace is a fearful thing too." "Yes, yes, Pond! But my point is that in all these five years _we_ have not yet lost a single man." "Good Lord!" exclaimed Captain Pond, after a moment's thought. "How do you account for it?" Professionally the Doctor was the most modest of men. "I do not seek to account for it," said he. "I only know that you, my old friend, well deserve the distinction which you have characteristically overlooked--that of commanding the most remarkable company in the Duchy; nay, I will venture to say, in the whole of England." They had reached the brow of the hill overlooking the town. Captain Pond halted and gazed for a moment on the veil of smoke above the peaceful chimneys, then into the sunset fading far down the Channel. A sudden moisture clouded his gaze, but in the moisture quivered a new-born light of pride. Yes, it was true. He--he in five years' command--had never lost a man! The discovery elated and yet humbled him. His was a simple soul, and took its responsibilities seriously. He sought not to inquire for what high purpose Providence had so signally intervened to stave off from the East and West Looe Artillery the doom of common men. He only prayed to be equal to it. The Doctor's statistics had, in fact, scared him a little. I am positive that he never boasted. And yet--I will say this for the credit of us Cornishmen, that we rejoice one in another's good fortune. Captain Pond might walk humbly and 'touch wood' to avert Nemesis: he could not prevent the whisper spreading, nor, as it spread, could he silence the congratulations of his fellow-townsmen. 'One and All' is our motto, and Looe quickly made Captain Pond's singular distinction its own-- _There's Horse, there's Foot, there's Artiller-y, Yet none comes up with Looe; For the rest of the Army never says die, But our chaps never_ do!