"I’m afraid, sir, that ’back to the land’ is only a play term—nothing more." "In our country—certainly. But we have a solution in our oversea dominions. Why, I have seen boys from the slums of our country sent to Canada, New Zealand, and Australia; now they are prosperous farmers. If we cannot save our men in the ranks from the pauper’s roll, I certainly think we ought to get at their children. It is our duty. Their blood has sealed the bonds of Empire. Let us give their children a share of the Empire’s treasure. If we don’t, Greens, disease, as you say, will kill these people, and then the vulgar rich will have to work their own mills and defend their money-bags." These Colonials in our Division are certainly an excellent advertisement for the Colonies. If their discipline is weak, their physique and pluck leave nothing to be desired. It makes one feel awfully proud to see them doing their bit. And the sight must annoy the Kaiser very much." "Ah, yes," said the old colonel with a fine gleam in his eyes, "we have the right to feel proud. These men represent the finest Empire the world has ever seen. No wonder they fight well. They’ve got something worth fighting for. Of course, you know the Colonies well." "Yes, sir. Canada, Australia, and New Zealand are fine countries. And I can understand why these men find discipline irksome. They are pioneers. Every man has had to cut his way. They have pushed the plough and the cash-desk over the prairies and on to the hills. They have sustained civilisation and culture at the point of their rifles. Indians, Maoris, and aborigines have been overawed by them and gathered into their keeping. It’s really wonderful what these young nations have done. Do you know, colonel, I believe our colonial cousins will eventually become so powerful that no hostile Alliance will be able to tackle us." "Yes; but, hello, who’s this?" concluded the colonel, as a figure darkened the doorway of the dug-out. It was the brigade-major. "Good-morning, Jones—anything on?" "Good-morning, sir, I’ve got some trouble for you," remarked the major with a dry smile. "Oh!" "The Kaiser’s got another brain storm. He has decided to lunch with the gay madames of Calais. Our Division is, of course, in the way, and the Brigade in particular, so there’s going to be some fun." "When?" "Soon, sir. Our aeroplanes and agents report a great concentration behind the enemy’s lines. As we hold them on the most likely line of advance, you may expect to be in the affair." "Well, Jones, it’s a case of us making our wills. We hold the key of our whole line. Their fury will be spent on that." "Yes, sir; and the brigadier wishes you to hold on at all costs. He will reinforce you if things go badly. He said that he was glad you were there." "Old toughs for a hard road, eh, Jones. Now—any more orders?"