s then administered that brought me to my full senses shortly
after.

When I was getting fixed up at the dressing station--I had a hard time
as the wounded men were swarming everywhere--I saw two women in the
station carrying baskets and speaking to the soldiers. They seemed to be
peasant women, but spoke very good English. They left after some little
time and wended their way up the road; but something in their appearance
directed attention to them and they were watched! After they had gone a
little bit up the road one of them was seen to open her basket and let a
pigeon go. They were at once arrested, handed over to the French police
and taken to Ypres.

The work of the gendarmerie was unexcelled; they were everywhere they
were needed; had it not been for their lightning-like acumen and prompt
service, the Lord only knows what would have become of us poor
Britishers in that country, as we were practically at the mercy of the
spies, not knowing who was who.

The two women were taken to Ypres and were treated to their deserved
fate--shot. But the pigeon did its work. Within an hour after their
arrest the hospital was shelled; it was packed with patients and in one
of the wards one of those flying ministers of death exploded, leaving
not a single living man.

CHAPTER IV

MY HORSESHOE WORKING

It was the fourth day of the second battle of Ypres. I was in charge of
my subsection at the guns and the men wanted water. I volunteered and
went to a farmhouse 150 yards off, got the water and had started back
for the guns. I had just stepped outside the door of the farmhouse when
Kr-kr-kr-p! a huge shell came over and blew the gun and gun crew into
kingdom come. A French captain was standing twenty feet from the door
and, following the report, I started for our gun. I had just taken a
step or two when another monster of death came hurtling through the air,
straight for me, as I thought, but, instead, it was a message for the
French soldier; it got him squarely, leaving not a fragment of his body
to be seen.

Immediately after the death of our gun crew and the French captain our
gun position was moved, and that same evening after supper, consisting
of the usual bread, jam and tea, Walter Hope and I were on our way to
the dugout. When half-way there a sudden emptiness entered into my life
and the next thing I knew I was being lifted on to a stretcher. I
rebelled and got to my feet. What had happened was this, as to