“‘Easy as could be,’ he whispered. ‘Here you are, sir.’ “And from the depths of his trousers he produced the coveted little sheets. “‘Billy,’ said I, ‘when the war is over you are likely to be a great man.’ “And I turned in to read the news. “About ten o’clock I received an awful message, in answer to which I started post-haste for the guard-house, meeting my anxious comrade Captain Hubert on the way. “‘A nice mess your _protégé_ is in, Lieutenant!’ he exclaimed. ‘I’ve had to put him under arrest, and he’s doomed, sir, doomed. Will no doubt be shot, and a good warning to all like him.’ “As the Captain--in temporary command--marched on, I stood rooted to the ground. What had happened! Well, I soon found out. Billy, white to the lips, but with his head well up, told me the story. His companion, cherishing some old grudge, had watched him making the exchange--tobacco for the journals--and had made haste to report him. Billy well knew the penalty. A court-martial had to be held at once. “Billy, poor lad, for violating the law which forbids absolutely giving aid or comfort to the enemy, must be shot! That was the law, and you must bear in mind that the well-being of a whole nation, especially in time of war, depends upon the strict discipline of the army being maintained. There were important reasons why I could not at that moment say I had, through Billy, procured the papers, and relieve him of the extreme penalty. Yet something must be done, and I must try and think it out, even though in discharging my duty I must sit in the court-martial which would undoubtedly condemn him. “‘Billy,’ said I, with my hand on the lad’s shoulder, and looking at his white and haggard young face, ‘I’ll do my best. Unless compelled to, don’t mention the papers. That can’t be known just yet.’ “‘God bless you, sir,’ said Billy, with tears rolling down his cheeks. ‘You see, mother’d be proud if I had to die in battle; but shot down, Lieutenant, for treason--’ “Well, I can tell you, I couldn’t stand it much longer, and I went dismally enough to the court-martial. You needn’t imagine it was in any fine court-room. Dignified and often tragic as were the cases, the court sat in an old tool-shed; planks on barrels formed the tables, and for seats we had empty provision boxes turned upside down. But there was about it the solemnity of such an occasion--of a death charge, perhaps, and all the grave formality of the promptest law known. When in the paltry place the court-martial began I knew that my colleague, Captain Hubert, was in a great state of excitement, and determined, if possible, to ‘put down’ such recklessness as had been Billy Forbes’s. We had some minor cases first quickly disposed of, and then my poor fellow was led up. [Illustration: MEAN AS WERE THE SURROUNDINGS IT MADE A TRAGIC SCENE]