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Rh they had something to think about—even if it were only the intense discomfort of their surroundings. And in every case the woman over the water had—nothing.

By cattle trucks and carriages, by so-called fast trains and unabashed troop trains they left in batches big and small; and others came and filled the gaps. The Land was calling; the Seed must not be delayed.

"You'll have to wait till it's dark." A weary Quartermaster, wandering through Ypres, met Draycott and stopped. "Thank God! you've come. We've got three officers left and a hundred and twenty men."

"Where are they?" he demanded. "How shall I find them?"

"Very likely you won't." The other laughed mirthlessly. "I'll take you up to-night—we walk the last bit to the trenches. If a flare goes up—stand still; there's no other rule."

"You're about done in, Seymour," said Draycott, watching him keenly. "What's the trouble?"

"The trouble is Hell." The Quartermaster passed his hand wearily over his forehead. "Utter, absolute, complete—Hell. The boys have been in the front line for twenty-one days; and"—he spoke with a sudden dreadful earnestness—"the end is not far off."

"My God!" muttered Draycott, "is it as bad as that?"

No trenches, no dug outs, no reserves. Ceaseless German attacks, rain, mud, death. And then, three