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Page 5
"Leave it to me," he said confidently.
So I left it, and when we paraded next morning where do you think the wily
old bird led us? Why, to the old training ground on the edge of the camp,
where the R.E.'s used to lay out beautifully revetted geometrical trenches
as models of what we were supposed to imitate in the front line between
hates. Having been neglected since the Armistice they had caved in a bit
and sagged round the corners till they were a very passable imitation of
the crump-battered thing.
Old Slingswivel so arranged the itinerary that the girls didn't perceive
that the sector was bounded on one side by P�re Popeau's turnip field and
on the other by a duck-pond, and he showed a tactical knowledge of the
value of cover in getting us into a trench out of view of certain stakes
and pickets that were obviously used by M�re Popeau as a drying-ground. To
divert attention he gave a vivid demonstration of bombing along a C.T. with
clods of earth, with myself as bayonet-man nipping round traverses and
mortally puncturing sand-bags with a walking-stick. It must have been a
pretty nervy business for the Major, for any minute we might have come
across a notice-board about the hours of working parties knocking off for
dinner that would have given the whole show away. But he displayed fine
qualities of leadership and presence of mind at critical moments, notably
when Gwennie showed a disposition to explore a particular dug-out.
"I shouldn't advise you to go in there, Miss Gwennie," he said gravely.
"Why?" asked Gwennie apprehensively.
"Not a pleasant sight for a lady," said the Major gruffly. "It upset _me_
one day when I looked in."
This was probable enough, for the Mess steward used it as a store for empty
bottles.
Gwennie shuddered and passed on.
The Major mopped his forehead with relief and set the ladies souveniring
among old water-tin stoppers, which he alleged to be the plugs of
hand-grenades.
Taking it all round, it was a successful morning's show, which did credit
to the producer, and it was only spoiled when, so to speak, the curtain
rolled down amidst thunders of applause.
"We don't realize what we owe to gallant soldiers like you," said Gwennie
admiringly.
The Major waved a fat deprecating hand.
"And Captain Spenlow has just been telling me," continued Gwennie, "that
you occupied this sector all through the War and that you hung on right to
the very last, _notwithstanding incredible efforts to dislodge you_."
At this crude statement of the naked facts Slingswivel's face went a deeper
shade of purple, and you can appreciate why I put in an urgent application
for immediate release, on compassionate grounds, and why the Major gladly
endorsed it.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _The New Minister._ "BOY, DO YE NO KEN IT'S THE SAWBATH?"
_Boy._ "OH AY, FINE. BUT THIS IS WORK O' NECESSITY."
_Minister._ "AN' HOO IS THAT?"
_Boy._ "THE MEENISTER'S COMIN' TAE DINNER AN' WE'VE NAETHIN' TAE GIE 'IM."]
* * * * *
"WAR CRIMINALS.
THE THREE PREMIERS MEET ALONE TO-DAY."--_Evening Paper._
We suspect Mr. KEYNES' hand in these headlines.
* * * * *
"Information wanted as to whereabouts of Mrs. J.O. Plonk (Blonk) wife
of J.O. Plonk (Clonk)."--_Advt. in Chinese Paper._
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