ged, and all
was quiet. Once, too, a cat ran stealthily across and startled my
horse: I remember that distinctly, because it was the first cat I had
seen since coming back to the fighting area.

At the junction, where the way from Baboeuf joined the main road that
ran parallel with the canal, stood a single British lorry. A
grey-headed lieutenant, who was lighting a cigarette, came up when I
hailed him, and told me our waggons had passed. He had pointed out the
way, and they had gone to the left. "The first turning on the right
after that will bring you to the bridge," he ended.

Our column was now moving along one of France's wonderful main
roads--perfectly straight, tree-bordered, half its width laid with
pave. On either side good-sized villas, well-kept front gardens,
"highly desirable residences"--comfortable happy homes a week before,
now shattered, silent, deserted. The road as we followed it led direct
to the battle-front.

We had gone a mile past the railway station, and were in open country,
and had still to reach the first turning to the right. I asked the
sergeant-major to trot ahead and let me know how much farther we had to
go. "Over a mile yet, sir," was his report.

At last, however, a sign-post loomed up, and we struck right along a
track that led over dreary waste lands. Before long we were forging
through a damp clinging mist, that obviously came from the canal.
Somewhere near the point towards which we were making, shells from a
Boche big gun were exploding with dull heavy boomings. I sent the
sergeant-major forward again, and he came back with the bewildering
report, "We're on the wrong road, sir!"

"Wrong road!" I repeated. "What do you mean?"

"There are some French lorries in front, sir, and the sentry won't open
the bridge gates to let them cross."

I felt puzzled and angered, and rode forward to question the French
sentry. Half a dozen protesting lorry-drivers stood round him.

The bridge did lead to Varesnes, he admitted, but it was only a light
bridge, and he had orders to allow no military traffic over it. I
became almost eloquent in describing the extreme lightness of my
vehicles; but a _sous-officier_ stepped out of a little hut and said he
was sorry, the orders were very strict, and he could not open the
gates. The bridge we wanted was approached by the next turning to the
right, off the main road. He assured me that it was a much better way,
and, in any case, he couldn't open th