within the week, but we have learnt to take no chances. We have but one
form of movement, the _tout ensemble_.

It is quite refreshing to step, over a hundred strong, into a village
with no pre-arranged scheme of board and lodging. Like every other
wanderer in a strange part, we turn first to the policeman. We march
towards him at attention; we call a halt at the base of his feet, and
then, with the courtesy of the gentleman and the brevity of the soldier,
we inform him that we have arrived. The next development is up to him.

It is not to him, however, that we owe our temporary rest. It is to that
irrepressible and indefatigable unit, the Boy Scout. Charles, I believe
we'd all be lying out in the rain at this moment but for that
assistance. The equipment of the Boy Scout on billeting duty consists of
a piece of white chalk and a menacing demeanour. Thus armed, he knocks
at every likely door, wishes the householder a good morning and
registers on the door-frame the number of men that may be left till
called for within, even while the policeman is still endeavouring to
explain the international situation and the military exigencies to the
slow-thinking rustic. Many formidable obstacles lie in our path, we
know, but we are comforted by the thought that the Boy Scout isn't one
of them. If, in the next generation, Britain continues to exist as a
nation and not as a depot for the training of waiters in the Berlin
restaurants, then indeed we shall have something to rely on in these
adaptable young fellows.

The host upon whom we officers were thrust was quite polite as long as
our Boy Scout stood by, but, left to himself, turned out crusty. He was
rather too old to turn into the perfect hotel proprietor all in a
minute, and, as he put it, "he couldn't see his way" to do this and that
for us. He was prepared to do all he had to do, but no more.
Unfortunately we were not as well up in the regulations as our youthful
and now departed protector. So we went out and did a bit of billeting on
our own. It is an odd experience, this knocking at somebody's door and,
upon being asked what one has come for, answering, "To stay." For
ourselves we thought that the Rector would be a good man to experiment
on. These parsons are used to being victimised and are known not to be
too harsh upon the delinquent. So off we went to the Rectory,
significantly handling our hilts and twirling our military stubbles. But
the essence of war is surprise