waiting for the next thing to happen.  The next thing was a single wounded lancer who happened in about four in the morning with the glad tidings that Bosch tanks were advancing on us”.  Questioned further he admitted that he had only actually seen one and that in the dark.  But it was the great-grandfather of all tanks, according to the chap; it stood twenty foot high; it ‘roared and rumbled’ in its career, and it careered by steam.

“It wasn’t any manner of use assuring him that there wasn’t a steam tank on anybody’s front.  He said there was, and we couldn’t move him.

“‘I saw steam coming from it in clouds,’ be mumbled, ’and sparks and smoke.’  Then he crumpled slowly on the floor, fast asleep.

“The Divisional General was properly mystified.

“‘If only I had a single field-gun or even some gelignite,’ he groaned; then turning to me, ’I must get the strength of this; it may be some new frightfulness the Hun is springing.  You’re an old horse-soldier, I believe?  Well, jump on your gee and go scout the thing, will you?’

“I scratched together a rag and bobtail patrol of grooms and pushed off just before daybreak.  Our people had the edge of the village manned with every rifle they could collect.  A subaltern lying ear to earth hailed me as I passed.  ‘It’s coming,’ he called.

“A quarter of a mile further on I could hear the roaring and rumbling myself without lying on the road.

“Light was breaking fast, but there were wisps and shreds of fog blowing about which made observation exceedingly difficult.  Still, observation I was out to get, so, spreading my bobbery pack, I worked closer and closer.  Suddenly one of my patrol shrilled, ’There y’are, Sir!’ and I saw a monstrous shape loom for a moment through a thinning of mist, and rock onwards into obscurity again.

“‘It’s an armoured car.  I seed wheels under it,’ gasped one groom.  ‘More like a blasted Dreadnought,’ grunted another.  ’Cheer-o, chaps, the ’Un fleet ‘as come out.’  But nobody laughed or felt like laughing; this mysterious monster, thundering westward wrapped in its barrage of fog, was getting on our nerves.”

The Horse-master paused and carefully removed the long ash from his cigar.

“Then the mists rolled up and revealed what I at first took to be a walking R.E. dump, but secondly discovered to be a common ordinary domestic British steam-roller with ‘LINCOLN URBAN DISTRICT COUNCIL’ in dirty white lettering upon its fuel box, a mountain of duck-boards stacked on the cab roof, railway sleepers, riveting stakes and odds and ends of lumber tied on all over it.  As I rode up an elderly head, grimy and perspiring, was thrust between a couple of duck-boards and nodded pleasantly to me. ‘’Ello,’ it said, ‘seen anythin’ o’ the lads?’

“I was too dumbfounded to say anything excepting that the lads were in the next village waiting for him.

“‘Ah’m right glad o’ that,’ said he; ’been feeling a bit lonesome-like these last two days;’ adding, in case I might not appreciate the situation, ’These yer Germans ‘ave been after me, you know, Sir.’