the
use of his eyes. All these and certain other things was he taught.

And the certain other things were mysterious and secret. They occurred
at odd times and in odd places, and the instructor was always Shorty
Bill personally.

"Some men," he would say, "like killing with a rifle; I do for one.
Some like killing with a revolver; not bad either, and essential, son,
when you're out on the tiles by night and can't carry a rifle. A rifle
is a dam nuisance at night if one's on patrol, whatever any one says to
the contrary. An' if you don't carry a gun you can't use a bayonet,
which is a beautiful method of sticking 'em." Shorty thoughtfully
removed his pipe. "I was almost converted to the bayonet one day by a
pal of mine. He's dead now, poor devil, but he lived well. He was
givin' tongue over the beauties of picking Huns out of dug-out
entrances with the bayonet like winkles out of their shells with a pin.
Gosh! it was great--that boy's palaver. He almost converted me, an'
then I showed him a couple o' little stunts of mine." Shorty put his
pipe in his pocket. "Come here, son, an' pay attention. It was
through forgetting in the excitement of the moment and not payin'
attention that my pal the winkle plucker went west."

Thus the mysterious lesson would start. "There'll come a time one
night, boy, when you're out in the dark, an' you're crawling near the
wire, when you'll feel on a sudden there's some one near you. Maybe,
by the smell of him, you'll know it's a Boche. Well--then it's up to
you to make good. You can plug him with your hand gun when you've got
his dirty face dead set; but if you start shooting practice in No Man's
Land, the audience join in. So I'll just show you a couple o' little
tricks--silent tricks, which you can use when you get your hands on
him. They kill just as clean if not cleaner than a gun, and no one's
the wiser. Now come at me as if you meant to hurt me. No; not as if
you were out pushing the baby in the pram, but just as if you was goin'
all out to kill me. That's better, son; an' where are you now?"

To be correct our one and only Reginald was lying on his face with the
unpleasant knowledge in his brain that if he moved an inch his left arm
would snap at the elbow; and that kneeling above him Shorty held, in
the neighbourhood of his ear, a villainous weapon of his own invention,
which resembled a cross between a bill-hook and a kukri.

"You see the idea, boy, don't