ak of a certain road between
Bapaume and Peronne with a metaphorical lift of the cap; a famous Irish
division who came to Egypt from Salonica, utter winged words when they
refer to a heart-breaking road in that malaria-stricken hole; and
presumably it is the same elsewhere.

We, too, have our road--perhaps the most famous, as it is the oldest, of
them all. It is famous not merely in its present aspect, but chiefly for
its history, extending almost as far back into antiquity as Time itself,
and for its hallowed memories; it has, moreover, seen many, many wars.

It is the great caravan route from Egypt into Palestine. Eastwards from
Kantara it runs, across the desert of Northern Sinai to El Arish, thence
onwards to Jerusalem and Damascus. Phoenicians, Romans, Moslems, and Jews
have traded and fought over it. Napoleon came this way in his hurried dash
into Egypt, and here, too, most of his army left their scattered bones. It
is hallowed by the journey of Joseph and Mary with the infant Christ,
fleeing into Egypt from the wrath of Herod.

Nineteen hundred odd years later the British soldier fought his way
eastwards and northwards over the same route on his mission to free the
Holy Land from the ambitions of a modern Herod. Almost the sole reason for
its existence is the wells. The original road, considered as such, is
singularly unimpressive; it is, in fact, little more than a mere track in
the desert, when it is visible at all, for the ever-shifting sand
obliterates as fast as they are made the imprints of marching feet.

The wells regulate the general direction, as on all the great caravan
routes, and also the distance of a day's march. One may be quite certain
that the ancients did no unnecessary wandering in the desert, but took the
shortest cut from one well to another. Hence, the track follows its
milestones, as it were, and not _vice versa_.

We did the same, and until the laying of the pipe-line rendered the army
more or less independent of them, all the marching and fighting in this
desert were for the possession of the wells that marked the old-time
halting-places. Nowadays, the military road runs alongside the older one.

[Illustration: FELUCCAS BRINGING SUPPLIES TO KANTARA see p. 54. [_To
face page 64_]

It is no ponderous affair of logs, or stones, or asphalt; a very simple,
homely thing went to its making: just wire-netting, with a two-inch mesh,
the kind one uses for the fowl-run! Laid in three rows, an