t in _tirage de jambe_, and you put your heavy hoof
in and spoil the whole business. You know jolly well that Le Glaxo was
completely closed down months ago."

"Oh, put another penny in your brain-meter and try to realise that
you aren't the only one who's grown up," replied Percival impatiently.
"Your brain-waves move about as quick as G.P.O. telegraph messages.
I'd got the scheme worked out while you were putting over your old
musical-comedy gags."

Since the departure of the British, Le Glaxo's only excitement is the
arrival of its one train per day. Ignoring the sensation caused by
the detraining of four persons simultaneously, Percival led his party
along a muddy rough lane.

"The dump is about four kilometres away and the road gets rather bad
towards the end," he said, maliciously edging Wuffle into a bit of
swamp. "Sorry; I was going to warn you about that."

Wuffle scraped mud from his trousers and followed the leader over a
rough wall into a hidden ditch. A breathless climb up a hill and a
steady trudge over plough-land found Wuffle still game, but, after
he had got his camera ready for action on the cheerful assurance that
they were nearing their quarry, a disappointed cry from the leader
dashed his hopes.

"Hang it!" said Percival, "I forgot. The dump was moved to Pont
Antoine last Tuesday. Come along; it's only three kilometres away."

Strangely enough, Pont Antoine was also a blank. Binnie suggested
trying Monceau, two kilometres further on; but when they arrived
there, fatigued and dirty, a thin drizzle was falling and it was
almost dark. Percival confessed himself baffled.

"I'm awfully sorry," said he to Wuffle; "I can't find it now, and
the point is how are we going to get back? There isn't a railway for
miles."

"Don't any of our lorries or cars pass here?" asked Wuffle.

"Oh, yes. But they won't give _you_ a lift. The orders are dead strict
against civilians riding in W.D. vehicles."

"It's the result of the articles in the papers about waste," said
Frederick sympathetically. "But I don't suppose there would be any
objection to your hanging on and running behind."

Wuffle looked round disconsolately. In the gloom the lighted windows
of the tiny Hotel de l'Univers blinked invitingly.

"I think I'll stop here for the night," he said, "and telephone for a
car to fetch me to-morrow."

"Right-o!" said Percival. "And when it's thoroughly light you
might--you _might_ be able to find the dump