"We now want an O.C Goats!" he said. "It will be an excellent reason for getting rid of Captain Cassell, who arrived yesterday. _Captain_! I asked him what he did in peace-time—musical critic of the _Morning Leader_!" So that is how Captain Cassell, musical critic, was promoted goatherd-in-chief. Aurelle found a farmer’s wife whose husband had been called up, and he persuaded her, at the cost of much eloquence, that the presence of a thousand goats in her orchards would be the beginning of all sorts of prosperity. He went in the evening to the station with Cassell to fetch the goats, and they both passed through the town at the head of the picturesque flock, herded by ancient Indians, who looked exactly like the shepherds in the Bible. Colonel Musgrave ordered Cassell to send him a hundred goats per day for the front. After the fourth day Cassell sent over a short note by one of the children from the farm, announcing, as if it were quite a natural thing, that his flock would be exhausted the next day and asking for another contingent of goats. On opening this extraordinary missive, the colonel was so choked with rage that he forgot to proclaim, according to custom, that Cassell was a damned fool. The numbers were too simple for an error to be possible. Cassell had received one thousand goats; he had sent off four hundred, he ought to have six hundred left. The colonel ordered his car and commanded Aurelle to take him to the farm. A pretty, deeply cut road led them there. The buildings were in the rustic, solid style of the end of the eighteenth century. "It is a charming spot," said the interpreter, proud of his find. "Where is that damned fellow Cassell?" said the colonel. They found him in the kitchen having a French lesson from the farmer’s daughter. He got up with the easy grace of a rural gentleman whom friends from town had surprised in his hermitage. "Hullo, colonel," he said, "I am very glad to see you." The colonel went straight to the point: "What’s this damned letter that you sent me this morning? You received a thousand goats; you sent me four hundred of them. Show me the others." The ground behind the farm sloped gently down to a wooded valley; it was planted with apple-trees. Near a stable, sitting in the mud, the Hindoo shepherds tasted prematurely the joys of Nirvana. A horrible smell arose from the valley, and, coming nearer, the colonel saw about a hundred swollen and rotting carcases of goats scattered about the enclosure. A few thin kids dismally gnawed the bark of the apple-trees. In the distance, among the copses which covered the other side of the valley, one could see goats which had escaped browsing on the young trees. At this lamentable sight, Aurelle pitied the unfortunate Cassell. The colonel maintained a hostile and dangerous silence. "Isn’t it beautiful, colonel," said the musical critic with soft and stilted speech, "to see all those little white spots among the green?"