rejoined the lively youth. "But the
impossible landing was done by the grandest Division in history,
when they were up to full strength. Now our divisions are jaded and
done for. Besides, only one army could get away. Even if the Suvla
crowd did effect a surprise escape, the Turk would see to it that
the Helles mob didn't repeat the performance. Our Staff would have
to sacrifice one army for the other. And, as the Suvla army is
bigger than ours, they'd sacrifice us for a certainty. So cheer up,
and don't be so damned miserable."

"Oh, well," said Monty, refilling Doe's cup. "Let us eat, drink, and
be merry, for to-morrow we die."

Doe lifted up the mug to toast his host.

"_Morituri te salutamus_," he said, and out of his abounding spirits
began to sing:

"The Germans are coming, oh dear, oh dear,
The Germans are coming, oh can't you hear?"

Sec.2

And amid all this speculation on Helles, there came suddenly a
rumour that, so far from the Turks attacking us, our whole line was
about to assume the offensive and move forward. This was a mere
angel's whisper one morning: by the afternoon it had blown like a
dust-drive into every dug-out.

It's a good rule, my friends who shall fight the next war, if you
want to know the secrets about a forthcoming attack, always to ask
the padre. He is the rumour-merchant of the fighting army. And Monty
was no exception. Directly the strange rumour reached the Eski Line,
Monty busied himself tapping every source for more detailed
information.

First he inquired of the Battalion Intelligence Officer whether
there were anything reliable in this talk of an imminent attack.
Intelligence nodded its head, as much as to say: "I've promised that
not a breath of it shall leave my lips, but--" Well, Intelligence
nodded his head.

Then, on another occasion, the Quartermaster, having just returned
from Ordnance (where they know everything), looked a profoundly
sinister look at Monty, and said:

"They're going to keep _you_ busy shortly."

"What, a show on?" asked Monty hypocritically.

"Yes, some stunt--some stunt. But don't know anything about it."

Next Monty was at Divisional Signals (always a well-informed and
oracular body), who said they supposed he knew there would be very
little opportunity for Divine Service on Sunday.

"You mean," said he, with brutal plainness, "that this beastly
attack is fixed for Sunday."

"Now, nobody said that," was the rep