‘What’s ’e want to drag me into ’t for?’

‘Could I get our rations now, Sergeant-Major?’ he said, evenly. ‘I have brought a mess-tin, for our rum-ration; and I was going to ask if we could have some candles. We left the barn we were in, and moved into a cellar; and we need a bit of light.’

‘Who told you to leave the barn an’ go into a cellar?’

‘Oh, Fritz did. And the barn came unstuck. After the tiles had fallen off, and the walls began to tumble down, I thought we ought to go to ground. I told the sergeant on control duty where we would be, and I left a notice on the door. We’re in the same yard, but in the cellar of the house. As all that is left of the house is a couple of thousand bricks, piled up in a heap on top of the cellar, we ought to be fairly safe there; only the entrance faces the line, and we have to be careful to screen the light.’

‘I can only let you have a couple of candles,’ said the quartermaster-sergeant.

‘Oh, make it three, sir,’ said Bourne, in a tone of coaxing protest, and a little grudgingly the quarter-bloke dealt him out another, while Bourne talked to keep from thinking. ‘Just before I got to the control’s dug-out, there was a man killed on the road. We lifted him to one side. He was a gunner, I think. … I can take the rum-ration in my mess-tin, sir. … It made us all a bit windy, I think. There’s not quite so much of Colincamps left as when you last saw it, Sergeant-Major.’

‘It’s my belief Fritz has rumbled us,’ said the sergeant-major in a whisper.

‘What can you expect?’ said Bourne, pointing to the bright yellow material sewn on his haversack. ‘We are decked out in all the colours of the rainbow, and then marched over the whole countryside in order to advertise the show. Anyone can see we are in war-paint. We are put into khaki, so as to be more or less invisible; and then rigged up in colours, so that we can be seen. It’s genius.’

‘That’s so as the artillery can spot us,’ said the sergeant-major soberly.

‘Whose, Sergeant-Major?’

‘You’re a sarky devil, you are.’

‘There’s your bag o’ rations, and don’t lose the bag, see?’ said the quarter-bloke.

‘All right, sir, thank you. I suppose I ought to be moving back. I am sorry about Captain Malet, but I suppose he’s lucky. Do you think there’s anything to go back, sir? I might save another man a walk.’

‘Go and wait inside for a few minutes,’ said the sergeant-major; they were all in the recess at the foot of the steps. ‘I shall be seeing the adjutant presently. It’s all bloody rot having that relay post at Colincamps, in my opinion. The Brigade runners might easily come up here, and our runners go down to Courcelles. Wait a few minutes, and I’ll see.’