nse clouds of
tobacco smoke, we could not help reflecting that this _might_ be the
last time we should look on such scenes of revelry, and came to the
conclusion that the only thing to do was to make the most of it while we
had the chance. And, by Gad, we did....

A little after midnight I parted from my companion and started off to
get back to that Base Camp of mine.

Standing in the main square of the town, I realized a few points which
tended to take the edge off the success of the evening:

No. 1.--It was too late to get a tram.

No. 2.--All the taxis had disappeared.

No. 3.--It was pouring with rain.

No. 4.--I had three miles to go.

I started off to walk it--but had I known what that walk was going to
be, I would have buttoned myself round a lamp-post and stayed where I
was.

I made that fatal mistake of thinking that I knew the way.

Leaning at an angle of forty-five degrees against the driving rain, I
staggered along the tram lines past the Casino, and feeling convinced
that the tram lines must be correct, determined to follow them.

After about half an hour's walk, mostly uphill, I became rather
suspicious as to the road being quite right.

Seeing a sentry-box outside a palatial edifice on the right, I tacked
across the road and looked for the sentry.

A lurid thing in gendarmes advanced upon me, and I let off one of my
curtailed French sentences at him:

"Pour Bleville, Monsieur?"

I can't give his answer in French, but being interpreted I think it
meant that I was completely on the wrong road, and that he wasn't
certain as to how I could ever get back on it without returning to Havre
and starting again.

He produced an envelope, made an unintelligible sketch on the back of
it, and started me off again down the way I had come.

I realized what my mistake had been. There was evidently a branch tram
line, which I had followed, and this I thought could only have branched
off near the Casino, so back I went to the Casino and started again.

I was right about the branch line, and started merrily off again, taking
as I thought the main line to Bleville.

After another half-hour of this, with eyes feverishly searching for
recognizable landmarks, I again began to have doubts as to the veracity
of the tram lines. However, pretending that I placed their honesty
beyond all doubt, I plodded on; but round a corner, found the outlook so
unfamiliar that I determined to ask again. Not a soul about. Pr