Hun extraction. "Excellent cellar of rare old ale, cigars
of great potency--real genuine Flor de Boche--a picture gallery
of--er--a pleasing description, and a bed. What more can man desire?"

"Private MacPherson does not approve, I fear me, of the pictures,"
chuckled the senior subaltern. "I heard him muttering dark things
about 'painted Jezebels,' and 'yon scarlet women of Babylon.'"

"It must be very dreadful for all concerned to go through life with a
mind like MacPherson's." The Doctor was examining his cigar
doubtfully. "There is an obstruction in this. It's either going to
explode with great force in a minute, or else I'm coming to the motto.
Hi! you blighter----" he jumped up hurriedly to avoid the stream of
beer that shot across the table from the Kid's overturned glass.

"Idiot child." The Company Commander roused himself from his gentle
doze to contemplate the delinquent. Then he smiled. "Man, he's
asleep; the boy's beat to a frazzle."

"Aye, you're right. Tim, come off that bed; the Kid is fair cooked.
Wake up, infant." The Doctor shook him by the shoulder. "Wake up.
Take off your boots, and then get down to it on the bed."

The Kid sat up blinking. "I'm very sorry," he said after a moment.
"Did I upset the beer?"

"You did--all over me," laughed the Doctor. "Get your boots off and
turn in."

"I'm so cursed sleepy." The Kid was removing his sodden puttees.
"I've walked, and walked, and I'm just about----" He straightened
himself in his chair, and as he did so the words died away on his lips.
With a peculiar fixed look he stared past the Doctor into the corner of
the dug-out. "My God!" he whispered at last, "what are you doing here?"

A sudden silence settled on the mess, and instinctively everybody,
including the Doctor, glanced towards the corner. Then the Doctor
turned once more to the boy, and his glance was the glance of his
profession.

"What's the matter, Kid?" His tone was abrupt, even to curtness. "Did
you think you saw something?"

"I thought--I thought----" The boy passed his hand over his forehead.
"I'm sorry--I must have been dreaming. It's gone now. I suppose I'm
tired." But his eyes still searched the dug-out fearfully.

"What did you think you saw?" asked the Doctor shortly.

"I thought I saw----" Once again he stopped; then he laughed a little
shakily. "Oh! it doesn't matter what I thought I saw. Damn it! I'm
tired; let me turn in."

The Doctor's ey