seeing Colonel, now General, Macdonell, coming out of the line
at the head of his men. They were few in number and were very tired,
for they had had a hard time and had lost many of their comrades. The
Colonel, however, told them to whistle and keep step to the tune,
which they were doing with a gallantry which showed that, in spite of
the loss of their horses, the spirit of the old squadron was still
undaunted.

Our batteries round Le Touret were very heavily and systematically
shelled, and of course rumour had it that there were spies in the
neighbourhood. The French Police were searching for Germans in British
uniforms, and everyone felt that some of the inhabitants might be
housing emissaries from the German lines. Some said lights were (p. 083)
seen flashing from farmhouses; others averred that the French peasants
signalled to the enemy by the way they ploughed their fields and by
the colour of the horses used. In Belgium we were told that the
arrangement of the arms of windmills gave away the location of our
troops. At any rate everyone had a bad attack of spy-fever, and I did
not escape it. One night about half past ten I was going down a dark
road to get my letters from the post office, when an officer on a
bicycle came up to me and, dismounting, asked me where a certain
British Artillery Brigade was. I was not concerned with the number of
the brigade, but I was horrified to hear the officer pronounce his
"rs" in the back of his throat. Of course, when we are not at war with
Germany, a man may pronounce his "rs" however he pleases, but when we
are at war with the great guttural hordes of Teutons it is different.
The moment I heard the sepulchral "r" I said, "This man is a German".
He told me he had come from the Indian Army and had a message for the
artillery brigade. I took him by subtlety, thinking all was fair in
war, and I asked him to come with me. I made for the billet of our
signallers and told the sentry that the officer wanted a British
brigade. At the same time I whispered to the man to call out the
guard, because I thought the stranger was a spy.

The sentry went into the house, and in a few seconds eager Canadians
with fixed bayonets came out of the building and surrounded the
unfortunate officer. Canadians were always ready for a bit of sport.
When I saw my man surrounded, I asked him for his pass. He appeared
very much confused and said he had none, but had come from the Indian
Army. What made