et a train for B----, where the Tank
Headquarters are. Good-bye, Talbot; I'm sorry to lose you." A silent
handshake, and they parted.

Talbot's kit was packed and sent off on the transport. A few minutes
later he was shaking hands all round. His spirits were rising at the
thought of this new adventure, but it was a wrench, leaving his
regiment. It was, in a way, he thought, as if he were turning his back
on an old friend. The face of Dobbin, his groom, as he brought the
horses round was not conducive to cheer. He must get the business over
and be off. So he mounted and rode off through a gray, murky drizzle,
to the railhead about eight miles away. There came the parting with
Dobbin and with his pony. Horses mean as much as men sometimes, and
his had worked so nobly with him through the mud on the Somme. He
wondered if there would be any one in the new place who would be so
faithful to him as Polly. Finally, there was Dobbin riding away, back
to M----, with the horse, and its empty saddle, trotting along beside
him. It was simply rotten leaving them all!

One has, however, little time for introspection in the Army, and
especially when one engages in a tilt with an R.T.O. The R.T.O. has
been glorified by an imaginative soul with the title of "Royal
Transportation Officer." As a matter of fact, the "R" does not stand
for "royal," but for "railway," and the "T" is "transport," nothing so
grandiose as "transportation." Now an R.T.O.'s job, though it may be a
safe one, is not enviable. He is forced to combine the qualities of
booking-clerk, station-master, goods-agent, information clerk, and day
and night watchman all into one. In consequence of this it is
necessary for the traveller's speech and attitude to be strictly
soothing and complimentary. Talbot's obsession at this moment was as
to whether B---- was near or far back from the line.

If he supposed that B---- was "near" the line, the R.T.O. might tell
him--just to prove how kind Fate is--that it was a good many miles in
the rear. But no such luck. The R.T.O. coldly informed Talbot that he
hadn't the slightest idea where B---- was. He only knew that trains
went there. And, by the way, the trains didn't go there direct. It
would be necessary for him to change at Boulogne. Talbot noticed these
signs of thawing with delight. And to change at Boulogne! Life was
brighter.

Travelling in France in the northern area, at the present time, would
seem to be a refutation of t