room
there you can borrow for celebrations. There's a P.O.W. camp next door
one way and a South African Native Labour Corps lot the other. But they
have their own chaplains. We'll let you down easy at first, but you might
see if you can fix up a service or so for the men in the forest. There's
a Labour Company out there cutting wood. Maybe you'll be able to get a
lift out in a car, but get your O.C. to indent for a bicycle if there
isn't one. Drop in and see me some day and tell me how you are getting
on, I'll find you some more work later on."

Peter got up. The other held out his hand, which Peter took, and then,
remembering O.T.C. days at Oxford, firmly and, unblushingly saluted. The
Colonel made a little motion. "Good-bye," he said, and Peter found
himself outside the door.

"No. 5 Rest. Camp;" said Jenks a moment later: "you're in luck, padre.
It's a topping camp, and the skipper is an awfully good sort. Beast of a
long way out, though. You'll have to have a taxi now."

"The A.C.G. said a tram would do," said Peter.

"Then he talked through his blooming hat," replied the other. "He's
probably never been there in his little life. It's two miles beyond the
tram terminus if it's a yard. My place is just across the river, and
there's a ferry that pretty well drops you there. Tell you what I'll do.
I'll see you down and then skip over."

"What about your stuff, though?" queried Peter.

"Oh? bless you, I can get a lorry to collect that. That's one use in
being A.S.C., at any rate."

"It's jolly decent of you," said Peter.

"Not a bit, old dear," returned the other. "You're the right sort, padre,
and I'm at a loose end just now. Besides, I'd like to see old Harold.
He's one of the best. Come on."

They found a taxi this time, near the Gare du Vert, and ran quickly out,
first over cobbles, then down a wide avenue with a macadamised surface
which paralleled the river, downstream.

"Main road to Havre," volunteered Jenks. "I've been through once or twice
with our stuff. It's a jolly pretty run, and you can lunch in Candebec
with a bit of luck, which is one of the beauty-spots of the Seine, you
know."

The road gave on open country in a few miles, though there were camps
to be seen between it and the river, with wharves and buildings at
intervals, and ahead a biggish waterside village. Just short of that
they pulled up. A notice-board remarked "No. 5 Rest Camp," and Peter
saw he had arrived.

The sun was well