sluggish, and more cavalry—­because of the difficulty of keeping large bodies of this force under cover—­leads simply to early heavy losses by gunfire and violent and disastrous charging.  The composition of a force may, of course, be varied considerably.  One good Fight to a Finish game we tried as follows:  We made the Country, tossed for choice, and then drew curtains across the middle of the field.  Each player then selected his force from the available soldiers in this way:  he counted infantry as 1 each, cavalry as 1-1/2, and a gun as 10, and, taking whatever he liked in whatever position he liked, he made up a total of 150.  He could, for instance, choose 100 infantry and 5 guns, or 100 cavalry and no guns, or 60 infantry, 40 cavalry, and 3 guns.  In the result, a Boer-like cavalry force of 80 with 3 guns suffered defeat at the hands of 110 infantry with 4.

SIZE OF THE SOLDIERS

The soldiers used should be all of one size.  The best British makers have standardised sizes, and sell infantry and cavalry in exactly proportioned dimensions; the infantry being nearly two inches tall.  There is a lighter, cheaper make of perhaps an inch and a half high that is also available.  Foreign-made soldiers are of variable sizes.

IV

THE BATTLE OF HOOK’S FARM

And now, having given all the exact science of our war game, having told something of the development of this warfare, let me here set out the particulars of an exemplary game.  And suddenly your author changes.  He changes into what perhaps he might have been—­under different circumstances.  His inky fingers become large, manly hands, his drooping scholastic back stiffens, his elbows go out, his etiolated complexion corrugates and darkens, his moustaches increase and grow and spread, and curl up horribly; a large, red scar, a sabre cut, grows lurid over one eye.  He expands—­all over he expands.  He clears his throat startlingly, lugs at the still growing ends of his moustache, and says, with just a faint and fading doubt in his voice as to whether he can do it, “Yas, Sir!”

Now for a while you listen to General H. G. W., of the Blue Army.  You hear tales of victory.  The photographs of the battlefields are by a woman war-correspondent, A. C. W., a daring ornament of her sex.  I vanish.  I vanish, but I will return.  Here, then, is the story of the battle of Hook’s Farm.

“The affair of Hook’s Farm was one of those brisk little things that did so much to build up my early reputation.  I did remarkably well, though perhaps it is not my function to say so.  The enemy was slightly stronger, both in cavalry and infantry, than myself [Footnote:  A slight but pardonable error on the part of the gallant gentleman.  The forces were exactly equal.]; he had the choice of position, and opened the ball.  Nevertheless I routed him.  I had with me a compact little force of 3 guns, 48 infantry, and 25 horse.  My instructions were to clear up the country to the east of Firely Church.