ct of that discussion was their
various sprinting abilities, and the comparative usefulness of various
kinds of funk-holes as a protection against "J.J.s" (Jack Johnsons),
"whizzbangs," or the uncertain and wobbling "minniewafers."

Seldom had Barry found occasion to call upon Major Bustead, with whom he
had been unable to establish anything more than purely formal relations.
A message, however, from the orderly room to Lieutenant Cameron, which
he undertook to deliver, brought him to the senior major's hut.

"Come in, padre," said the major, who of late had become more genial,
"and tell us the best kind of a funk-hole for a 'minniewafer.'"

"The deepest and the closest for me, major, I should say," said Barry,
"from what I have heard of those uncertain and wobbling beasts."

"I understand that chaplains do not accompany their battalions to the
front line, but stay back at the casualty clearing stations," suggested
the major. "Wise old birds, they are, too." The major had an unpleasant
laugh.

"I suppose they go where they are ordered, sir," replied Barry, "but
if you will excuse me, I have here a chit for Lieutenant Cameron, sir,
which has just come in," and Barry handed Cameron his message.

"Will you allow me, sir?" said Cameron.

"Certainly, go on, read it," said the major.

Cameron read the message, and on his face there appeared a grave and
anxious look.

"It's from the casualty clearing station, sir. One of our chaps from
Edmonton is there dangerously wounded, and wants to see me. I'd like to
go, sir, if I might."

"Oh, certainly. I'll make it all right with the O. C. Get a horse from
the transport. Which casualty clearing station is it?"

Cameron looked at his message.

"Menin Mill, sir."

"Menin Mill! By gad, I thought it was Brandthoek, but Menin Mill, good
Lord, that's a different proposition. That's way beyond Ypres, you know.
Right up on the line. You can't take a horse there. Do you think you
ought to go up at all?"

"I think I should like to go, sir," replied Cameron. "I know the chap
well. Went to school and college with him."

"Then," said the major, "you had better hurry up and attach yourself to
one of the transports going in. You will barely be in time."

"Thank you, sir," said Cameron, and left the room.

Barry went out with him. "Who is it, Cameron?" he said. "Do I know him?"

"I don't know, sir, whether you do or not. It's young McPherson of
Edmonton, an awfully decent chap,