l. You never
know when the phase will change. He may fish in his tin hat with a
bent pin first or he may shoot you on sight, but I'd go at once if I
were you. You stand more chance."

Undoubtedly the sight which confronted them on rounding the traverse
justified their worst fears. The Doctor recoiled with a choking noise
and endeavoured to wave the Staff officer forward.

"Not on your life, Doc.," remarked that worthy grimly--"not on your
life. Go right in; and with your bulk you oughtn't to feel it much,
wherever he kicks you."

Personally, I maintain the whole thing was rather hard on Bendigo.
Before sending him up the line he should have been labelled; some
warning as to his habits should have been noised abroad by the town
crier. Then the unfortunate episode with the General would never have
occurred. He would have made allowances, and withdrawn early for light
refreshment.

But when a man whose face is of the type peculiar--the sort that you
give the baby to play with--practises the habits of fourteen years
unsuccessful dyspeptic futurism in a support line trench on a hot day,
the result is likely to be full of incident. True--the wretched
Bendigo knew no better; but no more did the General. And life is made
of these trifling misunderstandings. . . .

The entranced spectators stiffened to attention as the procession of
great ones--partially hidden behind the Doctor--advanced with due
military precautions. Even the phlegmatic and weary Sapper who was
assisting the genius, with base utilitarian details, such as the size
of the trap door at the back of the proposed model, showed signs of
animation. Not so Bendigo. With an expression on his face suggestive
of great internal pain, he remained seated on the fire-step muttering
softly to himself and clasping to his bosom a large lump of what
appeared to be mud.

Suddenly he placed it on the step beside him and rose with an air of
determination. The staff performed two or three nimble steps of the
foxtrot variety to the rear, and as they did so Bendigo sprang to the
assault. With a sweeping half-arm blow he struck the mud and the mud
retaliated. While it lasted the action was brisk, but the issue was
never in doubt. After two minutes in fighting, Bendigo withdrew
exhausted, and most of the mud went with him. What was left looked
tired.

"A clear case of shell shock," muttered the Staff officer nervously in
the Doctor's ear. "For Heaven's sake do