will have gone by for the transitory joys of driving, the questionable intricacies of the magneto—­” but further details were suspended owing to small bales of cotton waste hurtling through the air, and in self defence I had to leave the “intricacies of the magneto” and pursue the offenders round the camp!  The only reply Boss could get as a reason for the tumult was that the F.A.N.Y.s were endeavouring to “realize the level of their minds.”  “Humph,” was Boss’s comment, “First I’ve heard that some of them even had any,” and retired into her hut.

We often had to take wounded German prisoners to No. 14 hospital, about 30 kilometres away.  On these occasions we always had three armed guards to prevent them from escaping.  The prisoners looked like convicts with their shorn heads and shoddy grey uniforms, and I always found it very difficult to imagine these men capable of fighting at all.  They seemed pretty content with their lot and often tried to smile ingratiatingly at the drivers.  One day going along the sea road one of them poked me in the back through the canvas against which we leant when driving and said, “Ni—­eece Englessh Mees!” I was furious and used the most forcible German I could think of at a moment’s notice.  “Cheek!” I said to the guard sitting beside me on the box, “I’d run them over the cliff for tuppence.”

He got the wind up entirely:  “Oh, Miss,” he said, in an anxious voice, “for Gawd’s sake don’t.  Remember we’re on board as well.”

The Rifle brigade came in to rest after the Guards had gone, and before they left again for the line, gave a big race meeting on the sands.  Luckily for us there was no push on just then, and work was in consequence very slack.  A ladies’ race was included in the Programme for our benefit.  It was one of the last events, and until it came off we amused ourselves riding available mules, much to the delight of the Tommies, who cheered and yelled and did their best to get them to “take off!” They were hard and bony and had mouths like old sea boots, but it was better than toiling in the deep sand.

There were about fourteen entries for our race, several of them from Lamarck, and we all drew for polo ponies lent from the Brigade.  Their owners were full of instructions as to the best method to get them along.  We cantered up to the starting post, and there was some delay while Renny got her stirrups right.  This was unfortunate, as our ponies got a bit “cold.”  At last the flag fell, and we were off!  It was ripping; and the excitement of that race beat anything I’ve ever known.  As we thundered over the sands I began to experience the joys of seeing the horses in front “coming back” to me, as our old jockey stable-boy used to describe.  Heasy came in first, MacDougal second, and Winnie and I tied third.  It was a great race entirely, and all too short by a long way.