“And what do you think you’re doing?”

“Waiting for daylight, sir.”

The man’s youthful voice was quite cheerful.

“D’you know what time it is?”

“No, sir.”

“How many other vehicles have you got?”

“Three altogether, sir.  Six horses.”

“Well, I’m from No. 2 Battery, and I’m looking for you.  You’ve unharnessed, I suppose.”

“Oh yes, sir, and fed.”

“Well, you’d better harness up your other two carts like lightning and come along with me.  Show me the way.  We’ll see about the G.S. wagon later on.”

“It’s about a hundred yards from here, sir.”

For the second time that evening George forgot fatigue.  Exultation, though carefully hidden, warmed and thrilled every part of his body.  Tying his horse behind one of the vehicles, he rode comfortably on hard packages till within sight of the Battery camp, when he took saddle again and went off alone to find a celebrated inn near the Epsom Grand Stand, where Colonel Hullocher and other grandees had billeted themselves.  The Colonel was busy with his Adjutant, but apparently quite ready to eat George.

“Ah!  You, is it?  Found that convoy?”

George answered in a tone to imply that only one answer was conceivable: 

“Yes, sir.”

“Brought it back?”

“Part of it, sir.”

He explained the circumstances.

The Colonel coughed, and said: 

“Have a whisky-and-soda before you go?”

George reflected for an instant.  The Colonel seemingly had a core of decency, but George said in his heart:  “I’ve not done with you yet, my fat friend.”  And aloud, grimly.

“Thank you very much, sir.  But I shall ask you to excuse me.”

Both the Colonel and the Adjutant were pardonably shaken by this unparalleled response.

The Colonel barked: 

“Why?  Teetotaller?”

“No, sir.  But I’ve eaten nothing since lunch, and a glass of whisky might make me drunk.”

Colonel Hullocher might have offered George some food to accompany the whisky, but he did not.  He had already done a marvel; a miracle was not to be expected.  He looked at George and George looked at him.

“No doubt you’re right.  Good night.”

“Good night, sir.”  George saluted and marched off.

VIII

He prepared to turn in.  The process was the simplest in the world.  He had only to wrap a pair of blankets round his soaked clothes, and, holding them in place with one hand, creep under the shelter.  There were four shelters.  The Major had a small one, nearest the trunk of the tree, and the others were double shelters, to hold two officers apiece.  He glanced about.  The invisible camp was silent and still, save for a couple of lieutenants who were walking to and fro like young ducks in the heavy rain.  Faint fires here and there in the distance showed how