men, roped him in along with the other lesser lights. The
fiat went forth, and so did Bendigo--mildly protesting: to adorn in the
fullness of time the office of the C.R.E. of whom I have spoken. And
he was sitting there exhausted by his labours in helping the
Sergeant-major rearrange the timber yard aesthetically, when a message
arrived that the Colonel wished to speak to him.

"I understand, Jones, that you are a sculptor," remarked that officer
genially, as our hero entered the office. "Now, can you model a tree?"

Bendigo gazed dreamily out of the window. "A tree," he murmured at
length. "A little, beautiful tree. Green with the verdant loveliness
of youth . . . green . . . green."

"It isn't," snapped the Colonel. "It's brown, and damned hideous, and
full of splinters."

"Only to the eye of unbelief, sir." The sculptor regarded him
compassionately. "To us--to those who can see things as they ought to
be--more, as they spiritually are . . . it is different."

A door closed somewhat hastily, and the sounds from the next room
seemed to indicate that the Adjutant's cough was again troubling him.
The Colonel however remained calm.

"I have no doubt, Jones," he remarked dispassionately, "that what you
have just said has some meaning. It is even remotely possible that you
know what it means yourself. I don't; and I do not propose to try. I
propose, on the other hand, to descend to the sordid details of what I
wish you to do. You will commence without delay." He leaned back in
his chair, and proceeded to fill his pipe.

"Up the line there is a tree stump standing on rising ground, which I
wish you to copy. The model must be sufficiently good to deceive the
Germans. It will be hollow, and of such a size as will accommodate an
observer. The back will be hinged. When your model is made, the real
tree stump will be removed one night and the sham one substituted. Do
you follow me?"

It is more than doubtful if he even heard. A slight attack of
dyspepsia shook him as the Colonel finished speaking, and he passed his
hands twice through his hair. "The thought--the future vista--is
beautiful," he murmured. "And think; think of the advertisement.
To-morrow, sir, I will gaze upon it, and fashion it in clay. Then I
will return and commence the great work."

He faded slowly through the door; and after a long pause the Colonel
spoke. "I wonder," he remarked thoughtfully to the Adjutant who had
returned: