o hated,
and which he still hated. Still, he threw his whole heart into it, and
he could not help knowing that he was progressing rapidly. After the
first few days his tiredness and soreness passed away, and he could go
through the most arduous duties without feeling tired. There was
something in it all, too, which inspired him. The military precision
of everything appealed to him, and the shouts, and laughter of hundreds
of voices made life gay in spite of everything. As the days passed by,
moreover, he could not help seeing that the association with
clean-minded, healthy-bodied, educated men, was having a good effect
upon the coarse-fibred portion of the strange community. They did not
indulge so frequently in coarse language, neither was their general
conduct so objectionable. It seemed as though they had something to
live up to.

"Shut up, mate, and don't be a beast," Bob heard one man say to another
one day.

"You are mighty squeamish, you son of a swine," was the rejoinder; "wot
are you so partic'ler about?"

"'Cos I don't want to tell them 'ere fellers that we're a low lot."

"We're as good as they are, thet's wot we are. We're just all equals
'ere. They are Tommies just as we are. That's wot _I_ ses."

"We may be all equals as soldiers; but we cawn't git away from it,
Bill, some of 'em are gentlemen. Thet's wot they are. Some of 'em
just make me ashamed of myself sometimes. No, I ain't a puttin' on no
side; but I just want to let 'em see that we workin' chaps can behave
as well as they can. Thet's all. See?"

Meanwhile, good news came from the front. The Allies had driven the
Germans back over the Marne, and were making progress all along the
line.

The men cheered wildly as they heard the news.

"They'll git licked afore we get a smack at 'em," some ventured.

But in the main they knew better. They realised that the war was going
to be long and bloody, and although going to the front possibly meant
their death, there were very few who did not want to get there.

No one felt this more than Bob. He had now been three weeks in camp,
and it seemed to him possible that it might be months before his time
for action came. Of Captain Pringle he had heard nothing since he
enlisted, and he was afraid he had gone to the front without having
been able to do anything for him.

One evening he was sitting outside his tent, smoking his pipe. It had
been a hot, sweltering day, although the summ