gets top marks in the Boche calendar for sheer fighting devilment . . .  And, please God, that’s what your American army’s going to be.  You can wash out the old idea of a regiment of scallawags commanded by dukes.  That was right enough, maybe, in the days when you hurrooshed into battle waving a banner, but it don’t do with high explosives and a couple of million men on each side and a battle front of five hundred miles.  The hero of this war is the plain man out of the middle class, who wants to get back to his home and is going to use all the brains and grit he possesses to finish the job soon.’

‘That sounds about right,’ said Blenkiron reflectively.  ’It pleases me some, for you’ve maybe guessed that I respect the British Army quite a little.  Which part of it do you put top?’

’All of it’s good.  The French are keen judges and they give front place to the Scots and the Australians.  For myself I think the backbone of the Army is the old-fashioned English county regiments that hardly ever get into the papers Though I don’t know, if I had to pick, but I’d take the South Africans.  There’s only a brigade of them, but they’re hell’s delight in a battle.  But then you’ll say I’m prejudiced.’

‘Well,’ drawled Blenkiron, you’re a mighty Empire anyhow.  I’ve sojourned up and down it and I can’t guess how the old-time highbrows in your little island came to put it together.  But I’ll let you into a secret, Dick.  I read this morning in a noospaper that there was a natural affinity between Americans and the men of the British Dominions.  Take it from me, there isn’t—­at least not with this American.  I don’t understand them one little bit.  When I see your lean, tall Australians with the sun at the back of their eyes, I’m looking at men from another planet.  Outside you and Peter, I never got to fathom a South African.  The Canadians live over the fence from us, but you mix up a Canuck with a Yank in your remarks and you’ll get a bat in the eye . . .  But most of us Americans have gotten a grip on your Old Country.  You’ll find us mighty respectful to other parts of your Empire, but we say anything we damn well please about England.  You see, we know her that well and like her that well, we can be free with her.

‘It’s like,’ he concluded as we reached the hotel, ’it’s like a lot of boys that are getting on in the world and are a bit jealous and stand-offish with each other.  But they’re all at home with the old man who used to warm them up with a hickory cane, even though sometimes in their haste they call him a stand-patter.’

That night at dinner we talked solid business—­Blenkiron and I and a young French Colonel from the IIIeme Section at G.Q.G.  Blenkiron, I remember, got very hurt about being called a business man by the Frenchman, who thought he was paying him a compliment.