ulness at the unexpected finish to his worries, he hailed him.

"Hullo! is that you, Kid?" The Adjutant loomed out of the darkness.
"We thought you were lost for good. Are you cooked?"

"I'm just about done in," answered the boy. "Where is B Company?"

"I'll show you. It's the hell of a place to find even by day; but
you've got 'some' dug-out. Beer, and tables, and beds; in fact, it's
the first dug-out I've seen that in any way resembles the descriptions
one reads in the papers."

"Well, as long as I can get to sleep, old man, I don't care a damn if
it's the Ritz or a pigsty." The Kid plucked his foot from a mud-hole,
and squelched on behind the Adjutant.

Now much has been written about German dug-outs--their size, their
comfort, the revolving book-cases, the four-poster beds. Special
mention has frequently been made of cellars full of rare old vintages,
and of concreted buttery hatches; of lifts to take stout officers to
the ground, and of portable derricks to sling even stouter ones into
their scented valises. In fact, such stress has been laid upon these
things by people of great knowledge, that I understand an opinion is
prevalent amongst some earnest thinkers at home that when a high German
officer wishes to surrender he first sends up two dozen of light beer
on the lift to placate his capturers, rapidly following himself with a
corkscrew. This may or may not be so; personally, I have had no such
gratifying experience. But then, personally, I have generally been
hard put to it to recognise the dug-outs of reality from the dug-outs
of the daily papers. Most of them are much the same as any ordinary,
vulgar English dug-out; many are worse; but one or two undoubtedly are
very good. In places where the nature of the ground has lent itself to
deep work, and the lines have been stagnant for many moons, the Huns
have carried out excellent work for the suitable housing of their
officers. And it was down the entrance of one of these few and far
between abodes that the Kid ultimately staggered, with the blessed
feeling in his mind of rest at last. Round a table in the centre sat
the other officers of B Company, discussing the remains of a very
excellent German repast. As he came in they all looked up.

"The lost sheep," sang out the Captain cheerfully. "Come on, my
kidlet, draw up, and put your nose inside some beer."

"Not a bad place, is it?" chimed in the Doctor, puffing at a large and
fat cigar of