Having drunk their coffee, the soldiers made their way to the Canal. Bubb's face was brimming over with good nature and vitality. Now and again he would jump into the air, cut a caper with his feet, hop to earth as gracefully as a bird, kick a pebble along the roadway, and afterwards lift the pebble in his hand and fling it into the water. A boy, wearing a pair of English puttees drove two lean cows along the Canal bank and stopped for a moment to speak to an elderly female who was washing her household linen in the cool water. Heedless of the woman's presence, Bowdy and Flanagan undressed and flung themselves into the Canal. The swim from bank to bank was very exhilarating, the coolness warmed the heart and imparted a strange exhilaration to the body. A swim in the cold water always gave the two men the same sensation as good news that is unexpected. Bubb sat on the bank looking at the swimmers. "Come into the water, my man," they shouted. "It's glorious." "'Twon't be so glorious when yer get out again," said Bubb. "Why?" Flanagan enquired. "'Cos yer clo'es are right top o' a hant-'eap." "An ant-heap!" ejaculated Flanagan. "Oh, my God!" "I'm not goin' ter leave my clo'es wiv yours," said Bubb. "I'm goin' ter leave 'em where there's no bloomin' hants." "We'll get stung to death," Bowdy said. "Bubb, put our clothes along with yours," he called. "No blurry fear," shouted Bubb, who was undressing further along. "I don't want to get no hants." The swimmers only ceased in their endeavours to drench him when he flung half-a-dozen bricks into the water perilously close to their heads, but it was only Bubb's trudgeon stroke that saved him from a combined attack when he dived into the Canal. Bubb was a graceful swimmer. Bowdy was just clambering up on the bank when he heard it coming, rumbling in from the Unknown. He was back in the water immediately, beating it with his hands as he waited. The shell burst near the bank and a hundred splinters whizzed into the Canal. A second shell followed, and a third. Then it was that Bubb's clothes, caught fair, were blown in pieces.... For ten minutes the men kept in the water, but when no further shells came across from the Germans, they clambered out on to the bank. "All hail, thou twentieth century Adam!" said Flanagan, looking at Bubb and shaking the ants from the bundle of khaki clothing. "It will be splendid to see you march through Gorre on your way back.... And all the young girls...." Bubb looked round in agony; Bowdy shook with laughter. "And French girls, too," said Flanagan. "They're very rude sometimes." "We'll have a little procession," Bowdy suggested. "Bubb leading." "It's a sad plight for a bashful man," said Flanagan. "An exhibition in the nude." Bubb opened his mouth and shut it again. Bowdy and Flanagan put their boots on. "If only I 'ad a sandbag," said Bubb. "We'll get back now," Bowdy said. "Come along, Spudhole."