Flanagan got no further with his chatter. The door opened, Sergeant Snogger entered followed by a stranger, and glanced keenly about him. "Watch that candle," he said; "it will fall down on the straw and burn the whole damned place out if you are not careful. And that window, what about it? The light's showing froo and you'll have a shell across 'ere if you're not careful. You're not at 'ome now, boys." "'Aven't been in Blighty for eighteen months, sarg," said Bubb blandly. "I've got a new mate for you fellows," said the sergeant, paying no heed to Bubb's remark. "'E 'as just come out an 'e's for this 'ere section.... And another thing," he said, "I s'pose you think yourselves lucky gettin' your pay to-day and gettin' a good night's sleep to-night after fillin' your guts with grub and fizz. Don't you, now?" "Yes, of course," Bubb assented. "Well, you're damned unlucky," said the sergeant. "We've got ter go up ter the trenches ter-night." "Blimey!" "Damn!" "Curse it!" Three voices yelled. "We're startin' off as soon as we can, so get ready," said the sergeant. "Every man wipe 'is wifle wiv a woily wag 'fore 'e goes, for 'e may need it 'fore 'e comes back.... Buck to when you give me a wet and get ready." They gave the sergeant a drink and started to pack up their things. Only when they had finished and sat down to wait for the call to move had they time to pay any attention to the new mate, the boy who had just come out from home. He had helped them at the making up of their kits, oiled their rifles and rushed out to the baker's shop near at hand and bought two loaves to take up to the trenches. When he returned, the others were sitting on the floor waiting for him. He came in with a brisk step, placed the loaves on the floor and looked at his mates. In carriage he had a certain individual grace, and his face, good-looking and youthful, wore an expression of intense expectation. A traveller within sight of a long-sought objective might look as that boy did. His age might be about nineteen, he looked seventeen. When he saw the men looking at him, he smiled awkwardly and blushed as if he had been found guilty of a mean action. "Well, wot d'yer fink of it?" asked Bubb. "Of this place?" asked the boy. "No, not of this place, but the 'ole blurry business," said Bubb; "o' this 'ere war." "I don't know what to think of the war, but I love being out here," said the boy, putting his hand in his pocket and bringing out a packet of cigarettes. "I couldn't get out before; my mother spoke to the authorities back in England, and I couldn't get away until I was nineteen." "And ye're glad to be out 'ere?" asked Bubb in an incredulous voice, then added: "Of course you are. I was dyin' ter get out 'ere myself.... But I know where I'd like ter get now.... Thanks, matey."