‘Hullo!’ he said in a weak voice. ‘Nice box-up here, isn’t it? But I reckon we got a bit of our own back ’fore we was knocked out. Tell the major the men were just grand. Oh! and before I forget, amongst my kit there’s a few “spares” I’ve collected; they might come in handy for the battery. I shan’t be away long, I hope.... Wonder what the old colonel will say....’ His voice trailed off into a drowsy murmur—the morphia had begun to take effect.... Lorrison detained Scupham in order to glean more information. ‘After ’e got ’it, sir,’ said Scupham, ‘’e lay still for a bit, ’arf an hour pr’aps, and ’ardly seemed to know what was ’appening. Then ’e suddenly calls out: “Is that there telephone workin’ yet?” “Yes, sir,” I says—and with that ’e made for to stand up, but ’e couldn’t. So wot does ’e do then but makes me bloomin’ well carry ’im up the trench to the observin’ station. “Now then, Scupham,” ’e says, “prop me up by that loophole so I can see wot’s comin’ off.” And I ’ad to ’old ’im there pretty near all the afternoon while ’e kep’ sending orders down the telephone and firing away like ’ell. We finished our ammunition about five o’clock, and then ’e lay down where ’e was to rest for a bit. ’Ow ’e’d stuck it all that time with a wound like that Gawd only knows. ’E went queer in ’is ’ead soon after and we thought ’e was a goner—and then nothin’ much ’appened till you came up, sir, ’cept that we was gettin’ a tidy few shells round about. D’you reckon ’e’ll get orl right, sir?’ It was evident that the unemotional Scupham was consumed with anxiety. ‘Oh! he _must_!’ cried Lorrison. ‘It would be too cruel if he didn’t pull through after all he’s done. He’s a _man_ if ever there was one.’ ‘And that’s a fact,’ said Scupham, preparing to follow his idol to the dressing station. As he moved away Lorrison heard him mutter, ‘There ain’t no one on Gawd’s earth like old Pickers—fancy ’im rememberin’ them there “spares.” ‘Strewth! ’e _is_ a one!’ Which was a very high compliment indeed.... * * * * * Official correspondence, even when it is marked ‘Pressing and Confidential’ in red ink and enclosed in a sealed envelope, takes a considerable time to pass through the official channels and come back again. It was some days before the colonel commanding a certain divisional ammunition column received an answer to his report upon the inexplicable absence of his adjutant. He was a vindictive man who felt that he had been left in the lurch, and he had taken pains to draft a letter which would emphasise the shortcomings of his subordinate. The answer, when it did come, positively shocked him. It was as follows: