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 the Aid Post, but every movement was a difficulty to his uncontrolled limbs, and every sound a torture to the bewildered brain. It was a long time before they got there, and when they did, the Aid Post was like a shambles with blood and wounded men. The two slung their friend down to the doctor, and went to report him a casualty at Headquarters next door. There the C.O. met them with operation orders for the attack that night, and a request that MacTaggart would take certain messages to other Companies. As they went in for a final farewell to the dumb Captain, he moaned and stretched forward his wavering hand for the orders, the last effort of a gallant spirit. Then they left him in the Aid Post, and went out to their work.

As MacTaggart crossed the open he was gripped with a sudden fear. The whining and the crash of the shells was coming nearer again, and he had two Companies to see before he could get back to his own burrow. He ran hastily over to the first Coy. H.Q., and then paused there, bracing himself for his next rush, for the barrage was on their lines again, although not so heavily. Out he ran and along to the next H.Q., fixing his mind on the job, and not allowing himself to think of shells, when a low shrapnel, beautifully timed, burst close beside him, knocking him over; picking himself