Half of us went forward with the column.  The rest remained for a slaughterous hour.  First we went to the hen-house, and in ten minutes had placed ten dripping victims in the French gendarme captain’s car.  Then George and I went in pursuit of a turkey for the Skipper.  It was an elusive bird with a perfectly Poultonian swerve, but with a bagful of curses, a bleeding hand, and a large stick, I did it to death.

We set out merrily and picked up Spuggy, Cecil, and George in the big forest that stretches practically from the Marne to Tournan.  They thought they had heard a Uhlan, but nothing came of it (he turned out to be a deer), so we went on to Villeneuve.  There I bought some biscuits and George scrounged some butter.  A job to the 3rd Division on our right and another in pursuit of an errant officer, and then a sweaty and exiguous lunch—­it was a sweltering noon—­seated on a blistering pavement.  Soon after lunch three of us were sent on to Mortcerf, a village on a hill to the north of the forest.  We were the first English there—­the Germans had left it in the morning—­and the whole population, including one strikingly pretty flapper, turned out to welcome us in their best clean clothes,—­it may have been Sunday.

We accepted any quantity of gorgeous, luscious fruit, retiring modestly to a shady log to eat it, and smoke a delectable pipe.  In a quarter of an hour Major Hildebrand of the 2nd Corps turned up in his car, and later the company.

Pollers had had a little adventure.  He was with some of our men when he saw a grey figure coming down one of the glades to the road.  We knew there were many stray Uhlans in the forest who had been left behind by our advance.  The grey figure was stalked, unconscious of his danger.  Pollers had a shot with his revolver, luckily without effect, for the figure turned out to be our blasphemous farrier, who had gone into the forest, clad only in regulation grey shirt and trousers, to find some water.

Later in the afternoon I was sent off to find the North Irish Horse.  I discovered them four miles away in the first flush of victory.  They had had a bit of a scrap with Uhlans, and were proudly displaying to an admiring brigade that was marching past a small but select collection of horses, lances, and saddles.

This afternoon George smashed up his bicycle, the steering head giving at a corner.

We bivouacked on the drive, but the hardness of our bed didn’t matter, as we were out all night—­all of us, including the two, Grimers and Cecil.  It was nervous riding in the forest.  All the roads looked exactly alike, and down every glade we expected a shot from derelict Uhlans.  That night I thought out plots for at least four stories.  It would have been three, but I lost my way, and was only put right by striking a wandering convoy.  I was in search of the Division Train.  I looked for it at Tournan and at Villeneuve and right through the forest, but couldn’t find it.  I was out from ten to two, and then again from two to five, with messages for miscellaneous ammunition columns.  I collared an hour’s sleep and, by mistake, a chauffeur’s overcoat, which led to recriminations in the morning.  But the chauffeur had an unfair advantage.  I was too tired to reply.