xplained to the doctor, but I did not tell him that,
when I discovered my abnormal temperature, I had felt a quick spring
of joy bubbling up, for here was an excuse for getting out of this
Gallipoli, of which I was so sick and tired; and then I had
remembered how, in loyalty to Doe, I had replaced my old ideals, and
by their light I must stay. I must only leave the Peninsula when I
could leave it with honour of holding Helles for the Empire.

In the end the doctor and I compromised. He said he would not send
me to hospital, but that I must go down to the dump, and take things
easy for a few days. From there I could be summoned, since I took
myself so devilish seriously, to die with my men when the massacre
began. I told him that the dump was too far back, but that, if he
liked, I would go and live with Padre Monty in the Eski Line.

So a few days before Christmas I arrived with my batman and my kit
at Monty's tiny sand-bag dug-out. He gave me a joyous welcome,
stating that he would order the maids to light the fire in the best
bedroom and air the sheets. Meanwhile, would I step into his study?

Sec.2

"I'm glad," said I to Monty at breakfast the next morning, "that I
shall spend Christmas alone with you here. I couldn't have stood
just now a riotous celebration with the regiment."

"Of course not," he agreed, and we both kept a silence in honour of
the dead.

"Though I doubt if it'll be a riotous Christmas for anyone," I
resumed. "Probably the last most of us will ever know."

"Stuff!" murmured Monty.

"'Tisn't stuff. Have you seen the Special Order of the Day that has
been printed and stuck up everywhere, congratulating us on our
attack of December 19, which, it says, 'contributed largely to the
successful evacuation of Suvla,' and telling us that to our Army
Corps 'has been entrusted the honour of holding Helles for the
Empire'?"

"Heavens!" he muttered. "We can't do it."

"Of course we can't; and we can't quit."

"Not without being wiped out," he agreed.

"Exactly. I wonder what it'll feel like, having a Turco bayonet in
one's stomach."

"Rupert," said Monty suddenly, "we've had a bad jar, and we're
getting morbid. Cheer up. Muddly old Britain will get us out of this
mess. And now we're jolly well going to make all we can out of this
Christmas. It'll certainly be the most _piquant_ of our lives.
_Adams!_"

"Sir?" Monty's batman appeared at the dug-out door in answer to the
call.

"Get your ent