die!" And the poor woman burst into a
flood of tears.

I calmed her as much as possible by telling her that everything would be
done for them without delay, and that medicine, food, and comfort would
be given them.

I turned and left the building, for the air was nearly choking me.
Outside I met the doctor, who was arranging to send a cyclist back for
an ambulance.

"They cannot be treated here, it's impossible. I've never seen such a
sight."

I left him and went into the house where the cyclist C.O. had made his
temporary headquarters.

"I want to get on further, is there any other village near by?"

"Yes," he said, "there is Haucourt, but I believe Bosche is in part of
it, or he was this morning. It's about two kilos from here. I shouldn't
go if I were you unless you get further information; I am expecting
another patrol in from there. If you care to wait a few minutes you may
learn something."

I agreed to wait, the "still" man came in just then, and he agreed to
come with me.

"We may as well risk it," I said. "I will take my old bus into the
place. If Bosche sees it he may mistake it again for an armoured car."

So, packing the cameras aboard, I waited for the expected patrol to turn
up. Half an hour passed; no sign. Daylight was waning.

"I am going on," I said to the "still" man, "we cannot wait for the
patrol, there's not time. Will you come?"

"Yes," he said.

I told the C.O. of my intention.

"It's thundering risky," he said. "You're going into new ground again."

I left Vraignes and advanced at a cautious pace in the direction of
Haucourt. Rifle-fire was proceeding in the distance, which I judged was
the other side of the village. A destroyed sugar refinery on the left
was still smoking. It had been blown up by the Huns and the mass of
machinery was flung and twisted about in all directions.

In the village I stopped the car close by a crucifix, which was still
standing.

"Turn the car round," I said to my driver, "and keep the engine going,
we may have to bolt for it."

Then, shouldering the camera, I made my way up the main street. The
place was a mass of smoking ruins; absolutely nothing was left. A huge
mine had been blown up at a cross-road; all trees and bushes had been
cut down. A piano, curiously enough, was lying in the roadway; the front
had been smashed, and no doubt all the wires were hacked through by some
sharp instrument, and the keys had all been broken. The Huns had
e