ter. See if you don't!"

"If it comes, we'll take it; we've seen lots worse than that! Humph!
That's no reason why you should mess up a house that belongs to your
own people, is it? I'd like to know what your wife would say if she
caught you smoking a pipe in her hay loft?"

Shouts of laughter from the culprits. Then a tall, lean fellow, taking
her side, called out:

"She's right, boys, she had a hard enough job getting the hay in all by
herself. Put out your pipes since that seems to get on her nerves.
Now then, mother, there's always a way of settling a question between
honest people. We won't smoke in your hay any more; that is, provided
you'll sell us fresh vegetables for our mess."

The old woman was trapped and had to surrender, which she did, but most
ungraciously, all the while moaning that she would more than likely die
of starvation the following Winter. So a moment later the group
dispersed on hearing the news that the "Auto-bazaar" had arrived.

This auto-bazaar certainly contained more treasures than were ever
dreamed of in ancient Golconda. There was everything the soldier's
heart might desire, from gun grease and cigarette paper down to wine
and provisions; the whole stored away in a literal honey-comb of
shelves and drawers with which the sides were lined.

The men all hurried forward. Loaded with water bottles, their hands
full of coppers, they clustered about it.

From his dominating position at the rear end of the truck, the
store-keeper announced:

"No more pork pie left!"

This statement brought forth several indignant oaths from the
disappointed.

"It's always that way, they're probably paid to play that joke on us.
It was the same story last time! We'll send in a complaint. See if we
don't."

But these grumblings were soon outvoiced by the announcement--

"Plenty of head-cheese and camembert. Now then! boys, who's ready?"

The effect was instantaneous.

Smiles broke out on every countenance. The good news was quickly
spread abroad, and presently the sound of plates and dishes, clinking
cups, and joyful laughter recalled a picnic which we had organised in
the vicinity, one warm July afternoon some four years ago.

A military band rehearsing a march in an open field just behind us
added life and gaiety to the scene, and reminded me of the
"Merry-go-round," the chief attraction of that defunct country fair,
and upon which even the most dignified of our friends had insi