nt summons.

"Yes, rather," endorsed the O.C., who was very full of the news,
"all East Cheshire Details. Apparently the East Cheshires are
holding an awkward position on a place called Fusilier Bluff, and
being killed like stink by a well-placed whizz-bang gun. They've got
about fifty men and half an officer left per company. They're
screaming for reinforcements. Salt and pepper, please. Thanks."

"Where is this Fusilier Bluff, sir?" asked I. "At Suvla or Helles?"

"Haven't the foggiest!" answered the O.C. "The Cheshires always used
to be at Helles, but I daresay they were moved to Suvla for the new
landing there, along with the 29th Division. Fusilier Bluff has only
just become notorious. Poor young Doon got his ticket there--same
gun."

"We've a score to settle with that gun, Rupert," said Doe.

Next day we dressed for our part on the Peninsula. Doe smiled grimly
as he swung round his neck the cord that dangled two identity discs
on his breast. "_Now_ there's some point in these things," he said.
We filled all the chambers of our revolvers and fixed the weapons on
to our belts, wondering what killing men would feel like, and how
soon it would begin. "It'll be curious," Doe suggested, "going
through life knowing that you killed a man while you were still
nineteen. Perhaps in Valhalla we'll be introduced to the men we've
killed. Jove! I'll write a poem about that."

A fatigue party of Turkish prisoners carried our kit down to the
"Egyptian Pier," whence we were ferried to the Headquarters Ship
_Aragon_. Once aboard, Monty took the lead, seeking out the cabin of
the Military Landing Officer and presenting to him our orders. He
was an attractive little person, this M.L.O., and, having glanced
over our papers, said: "East Cheshires? Oh, yes. And where are they?
Are they at Suvla or Helles?"

Monty said that he hadn't the slightest idea, but imagined it was
the business of Headquarters to have some notion of a division's
whereabouts.

"East Cheshire Division? Let me see," muttered the M.L.O., chewing
his pencil.

We let him see, with the satisfactory result that he brightened up
and said:

"Ah, yes. They're at Suvla, I think."

"How nice!" commented Monty. It seemed a suitable remark.

"Well, anyhow," proceeded the M.L.O., in the relieved manner of one
who has chosen which of two doubtful courses to adopt, and is happy
in his choice, "there's a boat going to Suvla to-night. The
_Redbreast_, I think. I'll m