Barry needed no second invitation. He flung himself headlong into the ditch beside the young fellow, but the shell dropped into the field beyond.

"That's as near as I like 'em," said the young officer, scraping the mud off his clothes. "My poor, old gee-gee got it though." He drew his revolver and shot the wounded animal. "It's hard on the horses. You see, they can't dodge," he added.

"I say, my boy," said Barry, for the lieutenant was only a boy, "that was a near thing for you. What are you going to do now?"

"Oh, just carry on," said the boy. "The relief will be along in a few hours. Beastly mess, eh?" he continued, but whether he referred to the disembowelled horse or the state of his own uniform, Barry could not say.

"You are sure you are all right?" said Barry, as he shook hands with him. "I'm awfully glad you weren't hurt."

"So am I," said the boy heartily. "Awfully rotten to be potted out here playing a bally policeman, eh? What? Well, good luck, sir," and Barry rode off to join his column with a deep admiration in his heart for the English school boy who, when war began, was probably a fifth form lad, in whose life the most dangerous episode would be a ball taken full off bat at point, or a low tackle on the Rugby field.

At Divisional Headquarters, they met the general, who after a conversation with the O. C. greeted Barry warmly.

"So you have gone and done it, young man. Well, I admire your nerve, and I congratulate you. I happen to know the family very well. As a matter of fact there is some remote connection, I believe. By the way, I have a communication from London for you," he added, drawing Barry to one side, and giving him a little slip. "I happen to know about it," he continued, while Barry was reading his telegram, "and say, if I can be of any assistance, I shall be very glad. It's a step up, you see. I have no doubt it can be put through quite easily and quickly, and I believe the step is coming to you."

Barry stood with his eyes upon the dispatch. It was an offer of a hospital appointment at the base, and carried with it his majority.

"I have no doubt the missus will be pleased, eh?" said the general with a grin.

Barry pulled out a letter from his pocket, opened it and handed it to the general, pointing to a paragraph. The general took it and read,

"And Barry, dear, remember that though you have a wife now, your duty to your country is still your first duty. I would hate that any thought of me should make it harder for you to carry on."

The general folded up the letter, put it slowly into its envelope, and handed it back to Barry.

"I know her," he said simply. "I should expect nothing else from her.

You are a lucky dog, but, of course," he added, with a swift glance at Barry's face, "some one must take that job."

"I fancy, sir, there are many for it, who are hardly fit for this work up here," replied Barry quietly. "I think, sir, I'll just carry on where I am."

"You are quite sure?" inquired the general. "Don't you want a day or two to think it over?"

"I am quite sure, sir," said Barry, "I am quite sure that my wife would approve."

"Very well, then," said the general, "let me handle this for you, and let me say, sir, that I am proud to have you in my division."

So saying, he gripped Barry's hand hard, and turned abruptly away to the others.

They rode to their camp in almost complete silence, except for a grunt or two from the O. C. who seemed in a grumpy mood.

When they arrived at Headquarters, the O. C. drew up his horse and turning to the major, said,

"I don't know just what to do with this Pilot of ours. He is a fool in some ways."

"A darned fool, sir," said the major emphatically.

"And," continued the major, "I am selfish enough to say that I am damned glad--I won't apologise, Pilot--that he decided to stay with us. It would have been just a little harder to carry on if he had left us."

"Yes," growled the major, "but, oh, well, we have got to stick it I guess. The Pilot is a soldier all right."

There was nothing further said about the matter, but next day as Barry walked about the camp, among the men, their eyes followed him as he passed, and every officer in the mess seemed to discover an errand that took him to Barry's tent.

Two days later the Canadians moved up into the line and took over from the Australians. They followed the Bapaume Road toward Pozieres, passing through a country which had seen the heaviest fighting in the war.

"This," said the O. C., drawing aside from the road, and riding to a slightly rising ground, "is La Boiselle, or at least where it was, and that I fancy is the famous mine crater. Sixty thousand pounds of gun cotton blew up that hole."

There was absolutely no sign of the village, the very foundations of the houses, and the cellars having the appearance of a ploughed field.

"That was a desperate fight," continued the O. C. "It was here that the Middlesex men made their great charge. Fifty men reported from the battalion when it was over. In that village they had a whole division fighting before they were through, Middlesex men, Royal Scots and Irish, for three days and three nights."

As they rode along, the guns on either side began their evening chorus and from the far rear came the roaring rush of the H. E.'s like invisible express trains hurtling through the air. It was music to their ears, and they rode forward with a new feeling in their hearts, for there appeared to be almost no reply from the enemy guns.

The battalion took to the trenches at the crossing of the Pozieres Road, and so effective was the counter-battery work that they were able to settle down into their battle positions without casualties. The R. A. P.

was in a deep German dug-out thirty feet below the surface, with double entrances and heavily timbered. It had been most elaborately prepared, planked on sides and floor, and fitted with electric lights. There were two main rooms, with a connecting corridor, leading to each entrance.

They found an Australian medical officer in charge.

"These chaps were regular settlers, weren't they?" said Barry, after they had exchanged greetings.

"Yes, sir, they intended to sty, apparently," said the Australian, in his slow drawl. "We found some letters on a wounded officer indicating their intention to remyn for the durytion, but we wanted the plyce--couldn't carry on without it in fact. It's quite a good plyce, too," he added with a cheerful grin.

"Why, it's just bully," said the M. O. "I am only sorry that we can't promise you as good in The Salient."

"I hear it is rather rotten, eh, sir?" said the Australian.

"Not as bad as Gallipoli, though," said Barry. "By Jove! You Australian chaps did magnificently down there. Must have been a perfect hell."

"Oh, yes, quite hot for a while, but I fancy you Canydians didn't have any afternoon tea party in The Sylient, eh? My word, there was some fighting there. Oh, there it comes," he added.

As he spoke a muffled explosion was heard, and the dug-out rocked, and the candles flickered.

"Can they get you down here?" inquired the M. O.

"I fancy a direct hit from a really big H. E. would disturb our little home, but nothing else would. Of course, a shell in the door wye would be a bit awkward, you knaow," replied the Australian.

The night, however, passed quietly, and except for a few slightly wounded walking cases, there was little work to do. The Canadians decided that in coming to the Somme, they had made a most happy exchange.

A quiet day followed the night, but the whole battalion was keyed up with intense expectation for the attack which they knew was fixed for the night following. With expectation mingled curiosity. They knew all about raiding; that was their own specialty, but they were curious as to the new style of fighting which they knew to be awaiting them, the capturing, holding and consolidating of a line of enemy trenches.

Nightfall brought the opportunity to gratify their curiosity. For two hours before the attack, their guns put down the barrage to cover the front line of enemy trenches, and to dispose of his wire.

The M. O. and Barry, with the Australian and their whole staff, made their way to a ridge a few yards distant to see the show.

"Great Heaven, what is that?" inquired the M. O., pointing to what seemed to be a line of flickering watch fires upon the crest of a neighbouring rising ground.

"Guns! Ours," said the Australian, surprised at the M. O.'s excitement.

"Guns! My Lord, guns, Barry," shouted the M. O.