As we cleared the village evidences of hostile activity became more apparent, and our own 18-pounders were found in barns on either side of the road, their front being screened with hangings painted to resemble a brick house wall. The country looked depressing enough--flat as could be, and intersected with sluggish ditches full of dirty water and fringed with stunted willows. Remains of farms and flapping canvas screens stood about, looking strangely gaunt in this empty wilderness. The grass was rank and overgrown, while here and there lay remnants of trenches and great strips of rusty barbed wire, the defences of Fleurbaix. Suddenly our guide pointed to a notice, "Steel helmets will be worn forward of this point," which served to remind one, if a reminder had been necessary with shell-holes all around, that the German was within a distance measurable in yards. After a few minutes' ride a large farm, to which had been added huts and also some defences, appeared in view. This, our guide informed us, was Elbow Farm, where the reserve company was located; likewise the best water supply and the gum-boot store. Still we went on till we came to a forked road with a large sand-bag wall. This was Sand-bag Corner, and here we left our horses. The enemy, it appeared, was a bit free with overhead machine-gun fire at night, and this screen had been put up to limit the flight of the bullets. A few minutes brought us to Wye Farm, in front of which was a large pond, and round this we skirted on duck-boards. On the right lay the military cemetery, where several figures were lying wrapped in blankets. We had met the walking wounded from the night's raid as we marched to Fleurbaix. These silent figures were those whose luck had not brought a "Blighty," but a more permanent rest in a foreign land. [Illustration: Boutillerie Sector]