etites, and drank the cider
with which Bushman had filled his flask at Caillouel the day before.

Another of the mournful side-spectacles of the retreat was being
enacted under our eyes. Opposite a small cottage a cart packed to a
great height, but marvellously balanced on its two huge wheels, stood
ready to move off. A wrinkled sad-eyed woman, perched on top, held
beside her her grandchild--a silent, wondering little girl. A darkly
handsome, strongly-built daughter had tied a cow to the back of the
cart. A bent old man began to lead the wide-backed Percheron mare that
was yoked to the shafts with the mixture of straps and bits of rope
that French farm folk find does well enough for harness. But the cow,
bellowing in an abandonment of grief, tugged backwards, and the cart
did not move. The daughter, proud-eyed, self-reliant, explained that
the cow was calling for her calf. The calf would never be able to make
the journey, and they had been compelled to sell it, and it would be
killed for food. It was hard, but it was war.

They tried again; but the cow refused to be comforted, and tugged until
the rope threatened to strangle her. They brought the calf out again
and tied him alongside his now pacified mother; but this time, when the
cart moved forward, he protested in fear and bewilderment, and tried to
drag himself free. The cart was still there when we rode off.

Our way ran through a noble stretch of hilly country, well wooded, with
sparkling streams plashing down the hillsides--a landscape of
uninhabited quiet. Two aeroplanes droned overhead--the first Allied
planes we had seen since the retreat began. "The old French line,"
observed the colonel, pointing out a wide system of well-planned
trenches, deep dug-outs, and broad belts of rusted barbed wire. "The
Boche ought not to get through here."

Up and over a hill, and down into a tiny hamlet which more stricken
civilians were preparing to leave. As our little cavalcade drew near, a
shrinking old woman, standing in a doorway, drew a frightened little
girl towards her, and held a hand over the child's eyes. "I believe
they took us to be Germans at first," said the colonel when we had
passed.

In another village a woman was trying to make a cow pull a
heavily-laden waggon up the hill. With streaming eyes and piteous
gestures she besought us to assist with our horses. She would pay us
money. Twice before she had lost everything through the Boche, she
pleaded. The c