ite softly to themselves. Here and
there a purple patch in the dusty khaki....

The instinct of men, like animals, is to crawl quietly away from their
fellows, and die in solitude.

The Colonel, very little perturbed by the bombardment, had sat
throughout with his back resting against a tree, writing messages, or
glaring at the map. Once, a large piece of shell casing had buried
itself in the ground a few inches from his leg. The jagged piece was hot
and heavy.

"Good Heavens," he said to himself, "what curious things Chance and Fate
are. If I had stretched my leg out! Why didn't I?" He smiled.

At length a few Stretcher Bearers began to arrive, and the worst cases
were carried off by them. Many of the less seriously wounded had to
hobble, or even crawl down the hill, as best they could. It was a
pitiable sight.

The Subaltern looked up, and caught the eye of an Officer being carried
off on a stretcher. His mutilated leg was covered by his Burberry. He
instantly recognised him as an Officer who had "brought out" a "draft"
some time previously.

If he were suffering great pain, he did not show it. He seemed annoyed,
and a little ashamed.

"Just the look," thought the Subaltern, "that a fellow wears when he's
out at Cricket--walking back to the Pavilion."

The comparison, though not happy, was apt. It was just like Cricket.
Some missed their catches; some never had any sent to them; and others
did brilliant things. A few had long innings, and compiled glorious
scores, but the majority "got out" pretty soon.

He pulled from his pocket a "Caporal" cigarette, and placed it in his
mouth, partly to show every one around how cool this inferno had left
him, and partly to steady his nerves. But just as he was striking the
match, a violent desire to laugh assailed him. He suppressed this
tendency towards hysterics, but he shook so much that it was impossible
to light the cigarette, and in the end he threw it away in disgust.

And so the day dragged on. They were shelled with varying ferocity all
the time. Once they attempted to launch an attack, but it failed, almost
before it had started. The enemy artillery observation seemed too acute,
the weight of his shells too heavy, and the wood in front too thick.

About three o'clock in the afternoon the General must have decided that
the holding of the hill was too costly a business. He therefore ordered
it to be evacuated, and the troops to retire on the village of Poussey