y
FitzPercy. Only it took several months for the topic to fade; Percy
beat it in about ten seconds.

Before the war Percy had been, amongst other things, an actor of
indifferent calibre; he had helped a barman in Canada, carried a chain
for a railroad survey, done a bit of rubber-planting, and written
poetry. He was, in fact, a man of many parts, and cultivated a
frivolous demeanour and an eyeglass. Unkind acquaintances described
him as the most monumental ass that has yet been produced by a
painstaking world; personally, I think the picture a trifle harsh.
Percy meant well; and it wasn't really his fault that the events I am
about to chronicle ended so disastrously. Unfortunately, however, he
was unable to get the General to see eye to eye with him in this
trifling matter; and so, as I have already said, Percy beat it in about
ten seconds.

The whole trouble started over the question of man-traps. "If,"
remarked a Sapper subaltern one night after the port had been round
more than once--"If one could construct a large conical hole like an
inverted funnel in the front-line trench, so that the small opening was
in the trench itself, and the bottom of the funnel fifteen or twenty
feet below in the ground, and if the Huns came over and raided us one
night, one might catch one or two." He dreamily emptied and refilled
his glass.

"By Jove, dear old boy"--Percy fixed his eye-glass and gazed admiringly
at the speaker--"that's a splendid idea! Sort of glorified
man-trap--what!--dear old thing."

"That's it, Percy, old lad. Why don't you make one next time you're in
the trenches?" The speaker winked at the remainder of the party.

"'Pon my soul, dear old man, I think I will." Percy was clearly struck
with the idea. "Cover the hole, don't you know, with trench-boards by
day, and have it open at night. Great idea, old sport, great idea!"

"You could go and fish for them in the morning with a sausage on the
end of a string," murmured some one. "Get 'em to sing the 'Hymn of
Hate' before they got any breakfast."

"Or even place large spikes at the bottom on which they would fall and
become impaled." The first speaker was becoming bloodthirsty.

"Oh, no, dear old chap! I don't think an impaled Hun would look very
nice. It would be quite horrible in the morning, when one started to
count up the bag, to find them all impaled. Besides, there might be
two on one stake." Exactly the objection to the last conting