His men carried him back to the Estaminet aux Bons Fermiers, with the German gun, which was afterwards employed to good purpose during the desperate days of attacking and counter-attacking which ensued before the village was finally secured.  They laid him in the inner room, and proceeded to put the estaminet in a state of defence—­ready to hold the same against all comers until such time as the relieving Division should take over, and they themselves be enabled, under the kindly cloak of darkness, to carry back their beloved officer to a more worthy resting-place.

In the left-hand breast pocket of Angus’s tunic they found his last letter to his father.  Two German machine-gun bullets had passed through it.  It was forwarded with a covering letter, by Colonel Kemp.  In the letter Angus’s commanding officer informed Neil M’Lachlan that his son had been recommended posthumously for the highest honour that the King bestows upon his soldiers.

* * * * *

But for the moment Mucklewame’s little band had other work to occupy them.  Shelling had recommenced; the enemy were mustering in force behind the village; and presently a series of counter-attacks were launched.  They were successfully repelled, in the first instance by the remainder of “A” Company, led in person by Bobby Little, and, when the final struggle came, by the Battalion Reserve under Major Wagstaffe.  And throughout the whole grim struggle which ensued, the Estaminet aux Bons Fermiers, tenanted by some of our oldest friends, proved itself the head and corner of the successful defence.

XII

RECESSIONAL

I

Two steamers lie at opposite sides of the dock.  One is painted a most austere and unobtrusive grey; she is obviously a vessel with no desire to advertise her presence on the high seas.  In other words, a transport.  The other is dazzling white, ornamented with a good deal of green, supplemented by red.  She makes an attractive picture in the early morning sun.  Even by night you could not miss her, for she goes about her business with her entire hull outlined in red lights, regatta fashion, with a great luminous Red Cross blazing on either counter.  Not even the Commander of a U-boat could mistake her for anything but what she is—­a hospital ship.

First, let us walk round to where the grey ship is discharging her cargo.  The said cargo consists of about a thousand unwounded German prisoners.

With every desire to be generous to a fallen foe, it is quite impossible to describe them as a prepossessing lot.  Not one man walks like a soldier; they shamble.  Naturally, they are dirty and unshaven,.  So are the wounded men on the white ship:  but their outstanding characteristic is an invincible humanity.  Beneath the mud and blood they are men—­white men.  But this strange throng are grey—­like their ship.  With their shifty eyes and curiously shaped heads, they look like nothing human.  They move like overdriven beasts.  We realise now why it is that the German Army has to attack in mass.