it."

Barry knew the area thoroughly. He got from young Pickles an exact
description of the location of the spot where McCuaig had last been
seen, and with the returning stretcher bearers set off for the wood,
which was about a thousand yards further on.

The communication trench leading up to the wood, which had been
constructed with such care and of which the Canadians were so proud, had
been blown up from end to end by the systematic and thorough bombardment
of the three days before. The little party, therefore, were forced to
make their way overland by the light of the star shells.

They reached the wood in safety. Barry looked about him in utter
bewilderment. Every familiar feature of the landscape was utterly
blotted out. The beautiful ambrosial wood itself, of heavy trees and
thick tinder-brush, was a mat of tangled trunks, above which stood
splintered stubs. Not a tree, not a branch, hardly a green leaf was
left. Under that mat of fallen trunks were A and C Companies, somewhere,
holding, blocking, feeling up toward the Hun.

The shells were whining overhead, going out and coming in, but mostly
coming in. None, however, were falling on the wood because here friend
and foe were lying almost within bayonet length of each other. Only an
occasional burst from a machine gun broke the silence that hung over
this place of desolation and death.

"That's the company Headquarters," said the stretcher bearer, pointing
to what looked like a bear den, under some fallen trees. Barry pushed
aside the blanket and poking his head in, found Duff and a young
lieutenant working at a table by the light of a guttering candle.

"For the love of God, Pilot," exclaimed Duff, springing up and gripping
Barry's hand, "it's good to see you, but what are you doing here?"

"I came up for McCuaig," said Barry, after a warm greeting to both.

"Oh, say, that's good. We have got him as far as the next dugout here,
the old bear. I've been trying to get him out for half a day. There's a
soldier for you! He's been potting Boches with his blessed machine gun,
scouting from one hole to another for the last two days, and he's got a
nasty wound. I'm awfully glad you have come."

"How are things going, Duff?"

"We have got the ----s so that they can't move a foot, and we'll hold
them, unless they bring up a lot of reserves."

"By Jove! Duff, you boys are wonderful."

"I say," said Duff, brushing aside the compliment, "did young Pickles
get