e trees, whence came the sharp crackle of
musketry, a hand was laid upon his shoulder, and he saw Puzzeau looking
at him with an expression of profound remorse on his black-bearded face.

"One never knows," said Puzzeau in a deep bass whisper. "I want to hear
you say again that you have forgiven me. Also, our old Commandant, who,
thank the stars, is recovering, charged me that if ever you and I met I
was to tell you----"

A dozen voices shouting "Corporal!" interrupted his speech, and with a
despairing shrug of his huge shoulders the honest fellow ran after his
men, leaving the Commandant's message undelivered.

At the edge of the wood he turned and waved his powerful arm, and as he
vanished, Dennis, still rubbing his throat, stepped out briskly beside
the German prisoners, who numbered eighty all told.

The big powerful brutes could have eaten their little guards, and Dennis
with them, but they shambled along almost at a run, perfectly
demoralised.

A short tramp across some ploughland, where brigades of active little
men in blue-painted helmets were waiting, brought the prisoners to the
French trenches, where Dennis had to run the gauntlet of half a dozen
very wide awake but very polite officers, who passed him still farther
to the rear.

He was long leagues from the British Army away to the north of the
Somme, and was puzzling how on earth he was to join it, when an
automobile dashed from a side road, hooting imperiously for him to get
out of the way.

"Confound you!" said Dennis to himself as he jumped rather ignominiously
on to the bank, but the car stopped, and the driver rose in his seat,
looking back at him.

"No, monsieur--it is not possible! It cannot be the Lieutenant Dashwood,
surely!" called out the young Frenchman, and instantly forgetting his
annoyance, Dennis ran towards the car.

"What, Martique, my dear fellow! Will wonders never cease? It is indeed
the Lieutenant Dashwood, as you call him, and in no end of a hat, too!
How can I get back to our lines?"

The good-looking young Frenchman, perhaps a little thinner and more
fine-drawn since the time when he and Dennis first met, laughed aloud
with delight.

"_Cher ami_, nothing is simpler. Jump in. I am going straight to
Fricourt, if that will help you."

"Great Scott! I left my Governor not a mile from there the day before
yesterday!" shouted Dennis, vaulting into the motor-car. "How are things
with us?"

"Magnificent!" laughed Martique;