Gus gaffaws and steals my dynamite by sending a return message: “My compliments to Mr. Grain, and tell him that it’s all right; Suzette is repairing his father’s baggy pants.” Then to me, “But how about Suzette? I went to look for her three hours before we left the wagon-lines; her bivouac was pulled down, and she and Bully Beef weren’t anywhere in sight. I didn’t like to ask because——. Well, you know, if we’re going to buck Army regulations, there are some things that most of us shouldn’t know too much about. If the General or the Colonel asks questions and you don’t know, you can’t tell. Ignorance saves a lot of lying.”
At the tail of the column I find the transport—the G. S. wagons, the water-cart, the officers’ mess-cart, the cook-cart, the shoeing-smith’s cart—looking humpy and nomadic as a travelling circus. The prisoners are there on foot with their escort, A group of stragglers are regaining their wind before reporting back to their proper sections. Mongrel curs, which we have adopted in our travels, yap down at me from the tarpaulin-covered mountains of stores or run sniffing about the heels of the horses. This house-keeping portion of our military life is in the care of the Captain. It is here, if anywhere, that I shall get the news I want.
I find Heming with the Quartermaster, directing the re-packing of some bales of hay which have shifted with the bumping of the journey. It always makes me smile to watch him engaged upon an unimaginative and practical task; he still has the aloofness of the artist. Beneath his khaki I can still discover the privileged dreamer whom the world flattered and who scarcely knew how to tie his own shoe-lace. He has compelled himself to become practical; but if the war were to end tomorrow, he would at once cease to be a soldier and fall back into his old way of life. I believe in his secret heart it is just that falling back that he dreads; out here he has learnt to be lean as a rapier. He loathes the thought of again becoming self-applauding and flabby. If the price of keeping lean is “going west” on the battlefield, he is perfectly content. To quote his own words, “There’s nothing leaner than a skeleton.”
“Captain Homing!”
“Hulloa, Chris! Pretty black, isn’t it? I didn’t see you. What’s your trouble?”
“A message from the Major.” I sink my voice. “He wants to know what you’ve done about Bully Beef and Suzette?”
“Suzette!” I can’t see his face. As he pronounces her name, he sucks the air through his teeth the way a man does when he shudders. Then, “Look here, does the Major really want to know what I’ve done with them?”
“He told me to find out.”
“But if he knows, he ought to take action. If he doesn’t take action, he becomes my accomplice and may get into trouble with those higher up. He’d better take it for granted that we left them behind at Vimy, unless——”
“Unless what?”