to the left and then again, so I think it must be to the right. Well, it can't be helped—here goes.

   I daren't own up to the men that I haven't a notion where we are, but I haven't, and that's a fact. How this infernal path does wind about! "What's that, Corporal? Here's a

    sort

   of a road?

    This

   isn't a main road. Well, the men must have a rest, so——Where's the rest of the section? There aren't more than half of them here. Expect they've gone back the way they came?" I'm beginning to wish

    I

   had too.

   "Corporal, there's no doubt that we've lost touch with the column. We must work our way along the road till we come across a house and find out where we are; unfortunately, I forgot to bring my map with me."

    At last!

   a cottage. The men had better rest while I make a few inquiries. "Oh, you're a stranger in these parts? But, my good woman, is there any place where I can find——The Red Lion? Where's that? Just down the road, where those soldiers are running to?" Well, I'm——!

    Saturday.

   —Wretched morning. Hunter tells me the barometer is falling again. We really get terribly bad luck with the weather. I know what it will be—we shall get to camp wet through, and find everything absolutely sodden. Wish I had sent Hunter on yesterday to look after things. Lady Sandilands says it's perfectly absurd going on a day like this; suggests that I should go later when everything is straight. Women take the most extraordinary views of one's duty to the country, but really, under the circumstances, I almost wish it were feasible.

   Williams has just come up to say that Brown Bess is very lame, shall he get Sultan ready? It is really most annoying: he positively hates the band, while old Bess is as steady as a rock.

   Sharpe & Sharpe write me about those mortgages. I really ought to see them. If I caught the express to town I could settle the matter, and then get to the camp about the time the Battalion should 

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