AN ERROR IN TACTICS.
In the heart of the Forêt de Roumare there is a spot called Rond du Chêne à Leu, where eight paths meet. Why they choose to meet there, unless it is for company, one can't imagine. The fact that there is not an estaminet within five kilometres nullifies its value as a military objective. Therefore, having been decoyed thither by a plausible guide-book, it was with surprise that I beheld an ancient representative of the British Army smoking his pipe with the air of having been in possession for centuries.
"Bit lonely here," I said.
"Rumble's Moor on a wet Friday's busy to it," he said emphatically. "Is it reet the War's over?"
"Yes."
He puffed his pipe for a few minutes while the information soaked in.
"Who won?"
"The Peace Conference haven't decided yet."
Conversation languished until I remembered the guide-book.
"According to tradition," I said, "it was at this identical spot that ROLLO, first Duke of Normandy, hung his golden chain on a sign-post for a whole year without having it stolen."
"Tha-at ud be afore we brought our Chinese Labour gang felling timber," he said firmly; "I wudden give it five minutes now."
"I understand, too, that there is a historic ruin hereabouts."
"Theer was," he said; "but he's in hospital."
"What do you mean?"
"Ratty Beslow; my owd colleague an' sparring pardner. It's 'im you weer talking of, ain't it?"
"It wasn't; but I'm interested in him," I said, sitting down on a pile of logs. "How did he get to hospital?"
"Through a mistake in Nacheral 'Istory. You see, me an' Ratty had been in th' War a goodish time an' ha-ad lost our o-riginal ferociousness. So they put us to this Chink Labour gang for a rest-cure. Likewise Ratty 'ad got too fa-amous as a timber-scrounger oop th' line, and it was thought that if 'e was left in th' middle of a forest, wheer it didn't matter a dang if he scrounged wood fra' revally to tattoo, it might reform him. But it was deadly dull. We tried a sweepstake f'r th' one as could recognise most Chinks at sight, and a raffle for who could guess how many trees in a circle; but there wasn't much spice in it. So at last Ratty suggested we should try a bit o' poaching.
"'Ah doan't know th' first thing about it,' I says; 'Ah'm town bred. Nobbut Ah could knock a few rabbits over if Ah'd got a Lewis gun handy.'
"'Rabbuts be danged!' says he; 'Ah've no use f'r such vermin. Theer's stags, so Ah've heerd tell, in this forest.'
"'Ah wudden say no to a haunch o' venison,' I answered; 'but stags is artillery work.'
"'They is not,' says Ratty. 'Nor yet rifles nor bombs.'
"'Ah s'pose you stops theer holes an' puts in a ferret,' says I, sarcastic; 'or else traps 'em wi' cheese.'
"'That's the only kind o' hunting you've bin used to,' replies Ratty. 'Stags is caught wi' tactics, a trip-wire an' a lasso.'
"'Well, la-ad,' I says, 'you'd best do th' lassoing. I doan't know the habits o' stags.'
"Ratty scrounges a prime rope fra' somewheers, an' we creeps out after nightfall. It was a dree night, the owd bracken underfoot damp an' sodden, an' th' tall firs looking grim an' gho-ostly in th' gloom. Soon theer was a crackling o' twigs, like a tank scouting on tiptoe.
"'Bosch patrol half-left!' whispers I.
"'Stow it, you blighter,' says Ratty. 'This is serious. Can't you see th' stag?'
"I peeps round and, loomin' in the da-arkness, see th' hindquarters of a stag sticking out ayant a tree. It looked bigger 'n Ah 've seen 'em in pictures, but Ah 've noticed Fritzes look bigger in th' dark.
"'Now's your chance, la-ad,' I whispers. 'Trip round an' slip th' noose over 'is horns.'
"'Not me,' growls Batty. 'T'other end's safer.'
"He crawls up to it wi' th' rope all ready, but just as he was going to slip it over its leg it seemed to stand on its head, feint wi' its left an' get an upper-cut wi' its right under Ratty's chin. A shadow passed across th' fa-ace o' the moon, which I judged to be Ratty.
"'Ratty's after altitude records,' says I to meself, 'an' there'll be th' ellanall of a row if that rope's lost.'
"However, in a few minutes he started to descend an' made a good landing in some soft bracken. By th' time I'd felt him all over, an' found 'e'd be fit to go to hospital in th' morning, th' stag had disappeared."
"I never heard of stags kicking like that before," I interrupted.
"Nor hadn't Ratty," said the ancient warrior. "Ah towd you he made a mistake in Nacheral 'Istory.
"The next night, feeling mighty lonely, Ah walked five kilometres to th' nearest estaminet, the 'Rondyvoo de Chasers,' an' looked upon the vang while it was rouge. When I'd done lookin' and started home th' forest looked more gho-ost-like than ever wi' th' young firs bowing an' swaying, and drifts o' cloud peeping through the branches. All at once I heerd a crackling o' twigs like th' night afore, an' then someone stole acrost th' road carrying a rope.
"Ah says to myself, 'It's one of th' Chinks poaching, an' it's 'evin 'elp 'im if 'e 's after what Ratty nearly caught last night!'
"Seemingly 'e was, for 'e follered th' noise, an' Ah follered 'im—at a safe distance. Then, dimlike an' looming big, Ah saw th' stag, an' the Chink stealing up behind it.
"'Tother end, you fool!' I whispered; an' he jumps round to its head, slips th' noose round its neck an' leads if off as quiet as a lamb."
"You don't expect me to believe," I broke in indignantly, "that a stag can be led like a poodle on a lead?"
"P'r'aps not stags," said the veteran, relighting his pipe. "That's weer Ratty made the mistake that sent 'im to hospital. But you can do it now and then with a transport mule what's broke away, and the Chink done it."
Commercial Candour.
"In reply to your letter to hand, we are very sorry for the delay in sending the Jumper, but the tremendous demand for these has denuded our stock. We are, however, expecting a further delay now in a day or so.
Yours obediently,
BROTHERS, LTD."
"The spell of hot weather is causing large numbers of the public to migrate to the Kent coast. Thanet, owing to greatly improved travelling facilities, is being specially flavoured. The public well know the magical properties of Thanet air."—Evening Paper.
Then why bother about flavouring it?
"The Food Controller announced that canned salmon is now free of control, and that chocolates and other sweetmeats will be freed on July 1.
He also intimates that canned salmon is now free of control, and that chocolates and other sweetmeats will be freed on July 1."—Daily Paper.
We hope he will say it once more, on the Bellman's principle that "what I tell you three times is true."
Chorus of children (to parent, late Lieut-Col. R.F.A., D.S.O., M.C. and Bar). "DON'T BE FRIGHTENED, DADDY; SHE'LL ONLY PECK YOUR LEGS."