o the Orderly-room on urgent
matters at eight-thirty.

But Bobby scored the final and winning trick. Sending for M'Gurk and
Sergeant M'Micking, he said:--

"This man, Sergeant, appears to be unable to decide when a message
is urgent and when it is not. In future, whenever M'Gurk is on night
duty, and is in doubt as to whether a message should be delivered at
once or put aside till morning, he will come to you and ask for your
guidance in the matter. Do you understand?"

"Perrfectly, sirr!" replied the Sergeant, outwardly calm.

"M'Gurk, do _you_ understand?"

M'Gurk looked at Bobby, and then round at Sergeant M'Micking. He
received a glance which shrivelled his marrow. The game was up. He
grinned sheepishly, and answered,--

"Yis, sirr!"

III

Having briefly set forth the character and habits of the Buzzer, we
will next proceed to visit the creature in his lair. This is an easy
feat. We have only to walk up the communication-trench which leads
from the reserve line to the firing-line. Upon either side of the
trench, neatly tacked to the muddy wall by a device of the hairpin
variety, run countless insulated wires, clad in coats of various
colours and all duly ticketed. These radiate from various Headquarters
in the rear to numerous signal stations in the front, and were laid by
the Signallers themselves. (It is perhaps unnecessary to mention that
that single wire running, in defiance of all regulations, across the
top of the trench, which neatly tipped your cap off just now, was laid
by those playful humourists, the Royal Artillery.) It follows that if
we accompany these wires far enough we shall ultimately find ourselves
in a signalling station.

Our only difficulty lies in judicious choice, for the wires soon begin
to diverge up numerous byways. Some go to the fire-trench, others to
the machine-guns, others again to observation posts--or O.P.'s--whence
a hawk-eyed Forward Observing Officer, peering all day through a chink
in a tumble-down chimney or sandbagged loophole, is sometimes enabled
to flash back the intelligence that he can discern transport upon such
a road in rear of the Boche trenches, and will such a battery kindly
attend to the matter at once?

However, chance guides us to the Signal dug-out of "A" Company,
where, by the best fortune in the world, Private M'Gurk in person is
installed as officiating sprite. Let us render ourselves invisible,
sit down beside him, and "tap" his wire.

In t