"You evidently had some troops. What happened to them?"

"Perhaps unwisely, general, I dispensed with their services some months ago."

"Then you wish us to take a town, set you up and—Here! What's this?"

The fellow had sunk back against the concrete wall. He had been breathing with difficulty and his hand now sought his throat. His eyes began to protrude and some flecks of blood rose to his lips. He shook.

"An old wound—" he gasped. "Gas—"

The lieutenant unlimbered his pistol and slid off the catches.

"No! No, no!" screamed the Duke. "It is not soldier's sickness, I swear it! No! For the love of God, of your king—"

Smoke leaped from the lieutenant's hand and the roar of the shot rolled around the valley below. The empty tinkled on the stones. The lieutenant stepped away from the jerking body and made a sweeping motion with his arm.

"March in an hour. I do not have to caution you to stay away from this body. Mawkey, pack my things."

"The guns?" said Gian, worriedly glancing at his pets and then beseechingly at the lieutenant.

"Detail men to haul them. They're light enough. But leave the three-inch. It would bog before the day was out."

"Si," said Gian gladly.

Shortly, Sergeant Hanley hurried up. "Third Regiment ready, sir."

An old man named Chipper piped, "First Regiment ready, sir."

Tou-tou bounded back and forth, making a final check from the muster roll he carried in his hand. Then he snapped about and cried, "Second Regiment ready, sir."

Gian, overcome by new importance, saluted, "First Artillery ready, sir."

But it did not come off so well. The Fourth Brigade's First Artillery, a unit of .65-caliber field pieces, had been drowned to a man in a rising flood of the Somme while they strove to free their guns. For an instant the people here glanced around and knew how small they were, how many were dead and all that had gone before; they felt the chill in the wind which blew 

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