As the road from Abbeville to Amiens approaches the latter picturesque town, it runs for a considerable distance alongside the railway. Mr. Massey was in the district on Friday afternoon, August 28, and when in the neighbourhood of Picquigny he found the railroad congested and the highway almost full of people proceeding south. Here and there, hidden in hedgerows, were files of French territorial infantry, and dotted over the countryside to the north sentries were vigilant. An officer stated that the latest report which had come in warned him that a Uhlan patrol was less than six kilometres away, and the presence of the enemy so far south suggested that a bold attempt was being made to cut the railway and destroy the utility of Boulogne as a base. The Germans probably did not know that at this time the British had ceased to employ Boulogne as a port for the disembarkation of men and stores, and that no British troops remained at Boulogne. The last train that was running out of Boulogne for Amiens was before him, and he knew that little rolling-stock remained at the port. The service both ways had been cut off, but the Boulogne-Folkestone boats were running. While he watched a fast train ran by towards the coast, and succeeding it came four big engines coupled together. Presently one of them returned with two trucks, holding eighty French soldiers, who were deposited on the line, half of them guarding the passenger train and the remainder reinforcing the guards on the line of communications. By and by word was passed along to keep the road clear for troops, and carts pulled on to one side. In a few minutes some khaki-clad soldiers swung round a bend. Their gait showed they were not Britishers, and the kepi or fez indicated their origin. They were two companies of French Algerian troops, the “Turcos,” as they are called. They advanced rapidly, shuffling along rather than marching, carrying their equipment easily. With them were three ammunition mules, entrenching tools carried in a mule pack, and two light carts. Officers showed their delight at the prospect of getting into touch with the enemy by waving their hands at cheering people, while the rank and file raised their arms, palm of the hand uppermost, and acknowledged the salutations by opening and closing the hand. They were a happy party, and they brushed past the villagers and quickened their pace to get to the point assigned to them.