"Everything is rotten," grumbled Duff, gazing gloomily through the drizzling rain at the rugged outline of wharves that marked the Boulogne docks.

"Look at this," cried Duff, sweeping his hand toward the deck. "You would think this stuff was shot out of the blower of a threshing machine--soldier's baggage, kits, quartermaster's stores--and this is a military organisation. Good Lord!"

"Lieutenant Duff! Is Lieutenant Duff here?" It was the O. C.'s voice.

"Yes, sir," said Duff, going forward and saluting.

"Mr. Duff, I wish you to take charge of the Transport for the present.

Lieutenant Bonner is quite useless--helpless, I mean. You will find Sergeant Mackay a reliable man. Sorry I couldn't give you longer notice.

I think, however, you are the man for the job."

"I'll do my best, sir," said Duff, saluting, as the O. C. turned away.

"What did I tell you, Duff?" said Barry. "You certainly are in for it, and you have my sympathy."

"Sympathy! Don't you worry about me," said Duff. "This is just the kind of thing I like. I haven't run a gang of navvies in the Crow's Nest Pass for nothing. You watch my smoke. But, one word, Pilot! When you see me bearing down, full steam ahead, give me room! I'll make this go or bust something." Then in a burst of confidence, he took Barry by the arm, and added in a low voice: "And if I live, Pilot, I'll be running something in this war bigger than the Transport of a battalion before I'm done."

Barry let his eyes run over the powerful figure, the rugged, passionate face, lit up now with gleaming eyes, and said:

"I believe you, Duff. Meantime, I'll watch your smoke."

"Do!" replied Duff with superb self-confidence. And it was worth while during the next hour to watch Duff evolve order out of chaos. First of all he put into his men and into his sergeant the fear of death. But he did more than that. He breathed into them something of his own spirit of invincible determination. He had them springing at his snappy orders with an eagerness that was in itself the larger half of obedience, and as they obeyed they became conscious that they were working under the direction of a brain that had a perfected plan of action, and that held its details firmly in its grasp.

Not only did Duff show himself a master of organisation and control, but in a critical moment he himself leaped into the breach, and did the thing that balked his men. Did a heavy transport wagon jamb at the gangway, holding up the traffic, with a spring, Duff was at the wheel.

A heave of his mighty shoulders, and the wagon went roaring down the gangway. Did a horse, stupid with terror, from its unusual surroundings, balk, Duff had a "twitch" on its upper lip, and before it knew what awful thing had gripped it, the horse was lifted clear out of its tracks, and was on its way to the dock.

Before he had cleared the ship, Duff had a circle of admirers about him, gazing as if at a circus.

"An energetic officer you have there," said the brass hat standing beside the colonel.

"A new man. This is his first time on the transport," replied the colonel.

"Quite remarkable! Quite remarkable!" exclaimed the brass hat. "That unloading must have been done in record time, and in spite of quite unusual conditions."

The boat being clear and the loads made up, Duff approached the Commanding Officer.

"All ready, sir," he announced. "Shall we move off? I should like to get a start. The roads will be almost impassable, I'm afraid."

"Do you know the route?" asked the Commanding Officer.

"Yes, sir, I have it here."

"All right, go ahead, Duff. A mighty good piece of work you have done there."

"Thank you, sir," said Duff, saluting and turning away.

"Move off, there," he shouted to the leading team.

The driver started the team but they slipped, plunged and fell heavily.

Duff was at their heads before any other man could move.

"Get hold here, men," he yelled. "Take hold of that horse. What are you afraid of?" he cried to a groom who was gingerly approaching the struggling animal. "Now then, all together!"

When he had the team on their feet again, he said to the grooms standing at their heads, "Jump up on the horses' backs; that will help the them to hold their footing."

There was some slight hesitation on the part of the grooms.

"Come on!" he roared, and striding to the horse nearest him, he flung himself upon its back.

A groom mounted the other, and once more a start was made, but they had not gone more than a few steps, when the groom's horse fell heavily, and rolled over on its side, pinning the unfortunate man beneath him.

There was a shriek of agony. In an instant Duff was off his horse and at the head of the fallen animal.

"Medical officer here!" he shouted. "Now then, two of you men. One of you pull out that man while we lift."

The horse's head and shoulders were lifted clear, and the injured man was pulled out of danger.

"Take him out of the way, please, doctor," said Duff, to the M. O., who was examining the groom.

"Sergeant!"

His sergeant literally sprang to his side.

"Get me a dozen bags," he said.

"Bags, sir? I don't know where--"

"Bags," repeated Duff savagely. "Canvas, anything to wrap around these horses' feet."

The sergeant without further words plunged into the darkness, returning almost immediately with half a dozen bags.

"Thanks, sergeant; that's the way to move. Now get some more!"

Under Duff's directions the bags were tied about the feet of the horses, thus enabling them to hold their footing, and the transport moved off in the darkness.

Returning from the disposing of the injured man, the M. O. found Barry shivering with the cold, and weak from his recent attack of seasickness.

"There will be no end of a sick parade to-morrow morning, and you'll be one of them," grumbled the M. O. "If they don't move them out of here soon they'll take them away in ambulances. There are a hundred men at this moment fit to go to hospital, but the O. C. won't hear of it."

"Doc, they ought to have something hot. The kitchens are left behind, I understand. Let me have a couple of your men, and let me see what I can do."

"It's no use, I've tried all the hotels about here. They're full up."

"No harm trying, doc," said Barry, and off he went.

But he found the hotels full up, as the doctor had said. After much inquiry, he found his way to the Y. M. C. A. A cheerful but sleepy secretary, half dead with the fatigue of a heavy day ministering to soldiers "going up the line," could offer him no help at all.

"Do you mean to say that there is no place in this town," said Barry desperately, "where a sick man can get a dish of coffee?"