"So you saw a bit of Blighty, then?" remarked Malcolm.
"Yes, rather!" was the reply; "and now I'm going to see a bit of France, or is it Belgium this time?"
"Ask me another," replied Sergeant Fortescue. "All I know is that the division moves up to the front on the 3rd of next month, so it looks as if we're going to shake Fritz by the scruff of his neck."
"Hallo, there's Mike Dowit!" exclaimed Malcolm, as the stretcher-bearer passed by. "How goes it, chum?"
Stretcher-bearer Dowit stopped, crossed the road, and grasped the rifleman's hand. Being a man of very few words, he excelled himself by saying nothing.
"Ask him," prompted Fortescue, "when he's going to have another bath at the Estaminet Moulin Gris."
The stretcher-bearer flushed and shuffled his feet awkwardly.
"Mike's as shy as
