But the Scotchman rushed away towards the canteen, and Tom, scarcely knowing what he was doing, followed him. When they entered, they saw a number of men standing there drinking. "Yes," they heard one man say, "that chap was right; I know I'm making a fool of myself, but I'm going to have another drink. My God! What would my mother say if she knew I wur off tomorrow morning!" A lad with a pale, refined face, standing by his side, had a glass in his hand ready to lift to his lips. "Ay, and what would my mother say!" he said. "I know she would be praying for me." At this some one uttered a coarse oath, but the lad threw the drink from him and left the canteen. "Ay, he's richt," said the Scotchman as he watched him go. "Tom Pollard, man, I hinna prayed for years, but I am praying to-nicht. I ought to be a different man, for I ken the fundamentals of releegion, but I'm giving my heart to God to-nicht; I am for sure." Tom followed the Scotchman out of the canteen towards one of the numerous sleeping-huts. "I am giving my heart to God, Pollard," he said hoarsely, "and I'm writing to tell my mither about it this very nicht. Ay, man, something has come into my life stronger than the power of whisky!" When Tom found his way to his own sleeping-hut that night, he was in a chastened frame of mind. "I'm noan going to turn religious," he said almost sullenly, "but I believe he's got the reight on't." The next morning they were at Folkestone, where the big troopship lay in the harbour. Before mid-day the ship was crowded with soldiers. How many men were there Tom had not the slightest idea; but they filled every part of it. Generals, colonels, majors, non-commissioned officers, and privates were all huddled together. All over the ship officers and men were alike; they were going to the field of battle to die if need be for honour, duty, and the liberty of the world. There were scarcely a score of civilians on board, and even they were in some way attached to the Army. Nurses wearing the Red Cross, religious workers with a look of wonder in their eyes, a few sent by the Government on some particular mission, but all were taking part in the great War which was staggering the world. Perhaps a mile or more out at sea a great Destroyer proudly spurned the waves; she was to guard the troopship along her perilous passage. Presently they landed at Boulogne. "Where are we going?" said one of the soldiers in Tom's company as they entered a waiting train. "I don't know," said Tom, "but what does it matter? We have nowt to do with that, we have just got to do our job."