stale, and things of but little account. Sometimes
the bag is large, and sometimes the bag is small; but the performance
occurs twice nightly, with frequently a matinee thrown in. Then they
were something new, and enterprises to be talked about.

The project first took concrete form in the back room of a certain
estaminet which served as the Headquarters mess when the battalion was
resting after a spell in the trenches. The omelette had been
successful, the port had recently arrived, and that pleasing, though
somewhat selfish, glow which comes even to the best of us when we
realise that it is the other fellow who is out in the cold wet night
permeated the room.

"Sarah Jane," remarked Toby to his second-in-command, as he
thoughtfully sipped his port, "I have been thinking."

"Have you, dear old soul? That's very jolly."

"I have been thinking," went on the C.O., "that the boys require waking
up. There is a danger of their degenerating into trench machines.
They want ginger."

The second-in-command looked at his Colonel keenly. "I agree with
you," he returned after a short silence. "But it's rather hard to give
'em anything to ginger with in the middle of winter and in this
locality. The division will probably be pulling out to train shortly,
and then----"

"No--that won't do," Toby interrupted him. "I don't mean that sort of
ginger. How many men of this battalion feel instinctively, and know as
a positive fact, that--man for man--they are better than the Huns?
That's the point, and training behind won't help that; at least, it
won't start it. Once give it to them as a foundation, and the training
will gain five hundred per cent. in its value."

"True, O king, but how?"

"They must fight the Germans, and find out for themselves. We've got
some new drafts, Sarah--quite a number of new drafts who not only have
never fought the Hun, but who have never even seen him. Their horizon
is bounded by a dirty sandbag and a smell; and I maintain that their
value as fighting troops is not one quarter what it might be."

He carefully lit his pipe while the rest of the mess watched him
curiously--wondering what was in his mind.

"Listen to me, you fellows." Toby leant forward in his chair and
emphasised his remarks with his ancient and powerful briar. "Every one
in this room is--for want of a better word--blooded. We have all,
thank Heavens! had the unforgettable pleasure of killing Huns at close
quarters,