, which was the end of the
journey, and broke off and crowded into a big barn that they had once
occupied before; and Dennis, who had tottered along without seeing
anything through his staring eyes for the last mile and more, tripped
and fell on his face, and lay so still that no one worried about him.

Very few of them worried about anything, as a matter of fact; even the
ration parties provoked no enthusiasm. All they wanted was to sleep, and
on many of the war-grimed faces was a smile of satisfied content. They
had helped to lift the curtain of the Great Push, and it had been
completely successful.

When Dennis opened his eyes, or rather, when he was conscious of opening
them, he found Bob standing beside him with a colonel of the R.A.M.C.

"They're not hurrying themselves over that dinner," said Dennis. "I'm
just as hungry as a hollow dog."

"He'll do," said the army doctor. "But for all that, a run home won't
hurt him."

"A run where, sir?" exclaimed Dennis, sitting bolt upright. "The thing's
only just beginning."

"For all that, my dear lad, you came very near making an end of it. Do
you know you've had a slight concussion and lay unconscious for two
days? But you're all right now, and you're going back to town for a week
with your brother. The Push will be going on when you return, and you
will be able to take up the thread where you left it."

The Colonel nodded with a friendly smile and went away, adding over his
shoulder, "I'll make out the papers at once, and you can both of you
get away by the next train that leaves railhead."

The next few hours were a dream to Dennis Dashwood, and when he had put
on a fresh uniform, which his man had mysteriously procured, and had
satisfied his terrific craving for food, Bob told him that our advance
was steadily pushing forward, and the weight of our superior artillery
was making itself irresistibly felt.

"Fact is, old man," said the Captain, "if you hadn't had an uncommonly
thick head you'd have gone under, and the P.M.O.'s quite right. A week
at home is absolutely necessary to set you up. My leg will be better at
the end of that time, and we shall both come back with the draft as fit
as fiddles."

Dennis groaned, but he felt the truth of what his brother said, and,
whisked down to the port of embarkation, they crossed the Channel with
an escort of T.B.D.'s, and both experienced that glorious thrill which
strikes every Englishman worthy of the name when the