and your chauffeur tells me that you have snored all the
way."

Dennis gasped, to find himself once more in front of the headquarters of
the General Commanding in Chief, and turned scarlet.

"I took the liberty of abstracting General Joffre's reply from your
pocket without disturbing you," continued Sir Douglas. "And I have had
the story of your extraordinary exploit from Martique here. Take my
advice, Dashwood, and be chary in future about embarking on such
adventures; they hardly come within the scope of your day's duty."

And then, seeing the shamefaced look that came over the lad, he added
quickly: "Do not read any censure into my words; they were only intended
to convey a little fatherly advice. And now the question arises, what is
to be done with you? You have shown a most remarkable aptitude, and
General Joffre has given such an account of your nerve that I am in two
minds whether or not to transfer you to my personal staff--or would you
prefer a spell of duty with your regiment?"

"Do you mean for the Great Push?" said Dennis, in an eager voice.

"Confound your great push!" said the General, with a faint flash of
sternness in his expressive eyes. "There's too much talk knocking around
about our future movements."

For the life of him Dennis could not help smiling all over his face.

"Well, I see where your heart lies," said the G.O.C. in Chief; "and
Martique, who is going your way, shall give you a lift. I wish you the
best of good luck, Mr. Dashwood, and I am very much obliged to you for
the way you have carried out your mission."

"By Jove!" whispered Dennis, as the car started for the firing-line. "He
did not deny it. There _is_ to be a push, and I'm going to be in it!"

* * * * *

The guns still thundered, and the shells had never ceased to rend and
pulverise the enemy position day and night. Otherwise, everything was
quiet on our front. The raids had ceased, and the wind was unfavourable
to any German gas attack.

"Come on, Dennis," said his brother; "there's nothing doing, and I'm fed
up. Let's drop in to that sing-song for an hour. They've got an awfully
good chap I'm told, who plays the piano like a blooming Paderewski."

"I'm with you," said Dennis. And they made their way into the
subterranean dug-out which had so nearly proved his tomb on the night we
had carried the front-line trench.

It seemed odd to plunge suddenly into an atmosphere of merriment withi