at safes," patent refuse
burners, mud scrapers, and other weird contrivances that can be
fashioned from biscuit tins, ruined houses and other _debris_, and issue
these sheets for the guidance of the poor, long-suffering infantry. Once
in a while they turn their attention to steel helmets, grenades, &c.,
so that their existence is almost justified.

The "Cook's tourist," however, is not a dangerous creature, taken in
small quantities, and is a very handy man to send out on working parties
when the company is supposed to be resting in reserve. So he is not
without his uses.

For those who found the ordinary trench routine dull we had, however,
several stock entertainments that never failed to satisfy.

The first and mildest was to take the victim through the "Catacombs," as
we called the galleries and connecting passages of our mine. This had
the advantage of rendering his cuffs and decorations less conspicuous
and giving him in five minutes all the war-worn appearance of a veteran.

If, however, he still craved excitement, he would be allowed to put out
some more wire in front of the parapet--always a delicate operation
where the lines are close. Many were satisfied by this means.

The third degree was always administered by Captain H---- himself. It
was in the form of a little sortie from the trench to a stumpy willow in
"No-Man's-Land," a willow that bore a striking resemblance to some
giant cacti and was called by us the "Cactus Treen."

[Illustration: THE CACTUS TREEN.]

From this point it was possible to bomb the German trench, and a little
excursion of this sort generally satiated the visitor's curiosity.
Incidentally, it kept the Hun from coming out and bombing us. He did,
however, treat us liberally to rifle grenades, and our casualties from
these beastly contrivances were large.

On one morning we were most unfortunate, a grenade killing our bombing
sergeant and two men, and we started to retaliate with every variety of
grenade we had. At this moment the trench mortar officer came up the
trench and volunteered to assist us. He had a new gun throwing
thirty-pound bombs and was keen on displaying his skill; what was more
important, he had twenty bombs available, and he started to fire these
off with an alacrity that, under the circumstances, was most pleasing.

But we had reckoned without our host. Before half a dozen rounds had
been fired an eight-inch gun back of Messines Hill started searching for
the