they had arrived. And what next?

Into this scene of war unexpectedly obtruded itself a bit of peace. A
great cart came down a side road, drawn by two white oxen with heavy
wooden yokes. Piled high in the cart were sugar beets. Some thrifty
peasant was salvaging what was left of his crop. The sight of the oxen
reminded me that I had seen very few horses.

"They are farther back," said the officer, "Of course, as you know,
for the last two or three months it has been impossible to use the
cavalry at all."

Then he told me a curious thing. He said that during the long winter
wait the cavalry horses got much out of condition. The side roads were
thick with mud and the main roads were being reserved for transports.
Adequate exercises for the cavalry seemed impossible. One detachment
discovered what it considered a bright solution, and sent to England
for beagle hounds. Morning after morning the men rode after the hounds
over the flat fields of France. It was a welcome distraction and it
kept the horses in working trim.

But the French objected. They said their country was at war, was being
devastated by an alien army. They considered riding to hounds, no
matter for What purpose, an indecorous, almost an inhuman, thing to do
under the circumstances. So the hounds were sent back to England, and
the cavalry horses are now exercised in dejected strings along side
roads.

As we went north the firing increased in intensity. More English
batteries were at work; the German response was insistent.

We were approaching Ypres, this time from the English side, and the
great artillery duel of late February was in progress.

The country was slightly rolling. Its unevenness permitted more
activity along our road. Batteries were drawn up at rest in the fields
here and there. In one place a dozen food kitchens in the road were
cooking the midday meal, the khaki-clad cooks frequently smoking as
they worked.

Ahead of this loomed two hills. They rose abruptly, treeless and
precipitous. On the one nearest to the German lines was a ruined
tower.

"The tower," said the officer, "would have been a charming place for
luncheon. But the hill has been shelled steadily for several days. I
have no idea why the Germans are shelling it. There is nobody there."

CHAPTER XXX

THE MILITARY SECRET

The second hill was our destination. At the foot of it the car stopped
and we got out. A steep path with here and there a wooden step led