e memory of some event which had taken place
long, long ago. All the same, it was a wonder to him that he was alive
and unwounded.

All around him lay men in various positions; some never to rise again;
some, even if they recovered, to be mutilated for life. Only now and
then did the rearguard of the enemy's army reveal its whereabouts, but
all knew that thousands of men were waiting for any advantage which
might be given to them.

The day was fast dying, and whatever little wind there had been had
nearly sunk to rest.

"Hello, Nancarrow! you here?"

"Pickford! Great heavens, man, whoever thought of seeing you!"

It was an old school-fellow who spoke to Bob. They had been four years
together at Clifton, and Pickford had been on the military side of the
school.

When Bob had gone up to Oxford, Pickford had left for Sandhurst. They
had last seen each other on what they called their breaking-up row at
the school. Both of them had been as wild as March hares, and they
with a hundred others had yelled like mad at the thought of their
school days being over.

Now they had met on French soil, amidst carnage and the welter of
blood, at the close of a day which would ever live in Bob's memory.

"I heard you had refused to enlist, Nancarrow."

"Who told you?"

"Trevanion: he said you had shown the white feather over the whole
business, and pretended to excuse yourself by religious scruples."

Bob was silent for a moment; he scarcely knew how to reply.

"I told Trevanion he was altogether mistaken in you," went on Pickford;
"but he gave such details of your refusal, and described in such
graphic language what others had said about you, that it seemed
impossible for him to be mistaken. Some girl gave you a white feather,
didn't she, at the Public Hall in St. Ia?"

"Did Trevanion tell you that?"--and there was anger in Bob's voice.

"I thought it was scarcely a sportsmanlike thing to do," said Pickford,
noticing the look on Bob's face; "I told him so, too. We were talking
about you only last night."

"Is Trevanion here, then?"

"Yes: didn't you know? He has been in the thick of it the whole day.
As you know, he is Captain of the Royal West--a fine lot of men he has,
too."

"And he thinks I am still in Cornwall?" asked Bob.

"I suppose so. You see it was this way: we were talking about certain
swabs of whom we were ashamed, and he mentioned you."

"Don't tell him I am here," said Bob quietly.

"Wh