Trench feet began to find its victims among the young Staffords—they trekked away in agony, but withal glad to get out of it. With the puzzling rapidity of trench casualties the daily roll increased without anyone quite grasping how or when this or that man went. He would be with you this morning, to-morrow you would miss him; inquire and learn that he had stopped a Blighty.
Evans, an adherent of the occult, vowed that he had been visited by some eternal being of the spirit world. Stumpy was profoundly interested.
"Wot'd 'e say?"
"Nothing much. Only that somethin' would portend for me to-morrow."
"Oh, did 'e want a drink?"
"Course not."
"If 'e 'ad asked you for your rum ration, would you," anxiously, "'ave given it to 'im."
"Couldn't: 'adn't any left."
"Wot woz 'e like?"
"Tall, shadowy."