ppies was almost startling in its
vividness, and beyond the poppies a long ribbon of yellow mustard was
backed by a thick wood.

"Where on earth am I?" was the thought that passed through his brain.
"This poor chap said the road would bring us near to our firing line,
and I may be able to borrow another motor-bike there. I must return to
the French headquarters and get that message duplicated, or I'm not
worth my salt."

He straightened one of his leggings which had been twisted round, and,
skirting the shell hole, started out on his voyage of discovery, feeling
rather dizzy at first, but surprised to find that his cap was still upon
his head, for he had not yet been served out with a trench helmet.

The narrow way wound along the edge of the wood through a hollow, the
banks of which were clothed with purple scabious, and he had gone some
distance before he thought of taking his bearings by the sun, which
showed him that he was heading due south.

"I'm on the right road, anyhow," he muttered, and then he suddenly
stopped and crouched low.

In the mist wreath that still filled the hollow he had caught sight of a
figure in uniform, which recalled the field grey of the Saxon. The man
was standing motionless beside a clump of trees that tufted the skyline,
and, uncertain whether he could gain the shelter of the wood behind him
unseen, Dennis was looking backwards over his shoulder when the decision
was taken very unexpectedly out of his hands by the appearance of
another man, who suddenly covered him with a rifle from the bank top not
a yard away, and challenged him in German.

"_Wer da!_" said the man, and although he recognised that his
interrogator was wearing a French uniform, Dennis unthinkingly replied
to the question in German also.

"I am an English officer," he said. "Perhaps you will be good enough to
direct me to our nearest brigade."

The man rose slowly from the wet wheat which had concealed his coming,
and, still covering Dennis with his rifle, slid down the bank until he
was within arm's length, a thick-set Alsatian corporal, powerful as a
bull.

"So," he said with a short laugh, as he seized Dennis by the collar.
"You are an English officer, are you? We shall see. We had one of your
sort through our lines yesterday--a staff captain, who gave us orders
from the British general which turned out to be false. Come along, my
pig. We will see what our captain has to say to you. English officers do
not