been Guiscard.

[10] August 29th.

[11] Stray bullets that, fired too high, miss their mark, and
occasionally hit men well behind the actual firing line.

[12] Foret de Crecy.

CHAPTER VI.

OVER THE MARNE TO THE AISNE

The morning of September 5th was very hot, but the brigades could easily
be found, and the roads to them were good. There was cheerfulness in the
air. A rumour went round--it was quite incredible, and we scoffed--that
instead of further retreating either beyond or into the fortifications
of Paris, there was a possibility of an advance. The Germans, we were
told, had at last been outflanked. Joffre's vaunted plan that had
inspired us through the dolorous startled days of retirement was, it
appeared, a fact, and not one of those bright fancies that the Staff
invents for our tactical delectation.

Spuggy returned. He had left us at Bouleurs to find a bicycle in Paris.
Coming back he had no idea that we had moved. So he rode too far north.
He escaped luckily. He was riding along about three hundred yards behind
two motor-cyclists. Suddenly he saw them stop abruptly and put up their
hands. He fled. A little farther on he came to a village and asked for
coffee. He heard that Uhlans had been there a few hours before, and was
taken to see a woman who had been shot through the breast. Then he went
south through Villeneuve, and following a fortunate instinct, ran into
our outposts the other side of Tournan.

We all slept grandly on mattresses. It was the first time we had been
two nights in the same place since Dour.

We awoke early to a gorgeous day. We were actually going to advance. The
news put us in marvellous good temper. For the first time in my
recollection we offered each other our bacon, and one at the end of
breakfast said he had had enough. The Staff was almost giggling, and a
battalion (the Cheshires, I think) that we saw pass, was absolutely
shouting with joy. You would have thought we had just gained a famous
victory.

Half of us went forward with the column. The rest remained for a
slaughterous hour. First we went to the hen-house, and in ten minutes
had placed ten dripping victims in the French gendarme captain's car.
Then George and I went in pursuit of a turkey for the Skipper. It was an
elusive bird with a perfectly Poultonian swerve, but with a bagful of
curses, a bleeding hand, and a large stick, I did it to death.

We set out merrily and picked up Spuggy, Cecil, and Geo