"So I have been told," said Trafford; "but the fact is we want to borrow your curling-stones."
Mystification of the profoundest nature showed itself on the faces of the curling fraternity.
"You're a humourist, sir," said Fraser at length.
"Among other things, yes," agreed Trafford; "but at the present moment I'm in deadly, sober earnest. We're trying to take the Marienkastel, but Karl's men are holding the run, and unless we can dislodge them it'll be a bloody business capturing the place. I'm sorry to spoil sport, but I must annex your curling-stones in the name of Queen Gloria—you'll see why in a minute."
And so saying, Trafford gave a command in German to his men. Instantly they jumped down on to the ice.
"Each man take a stone and carry it up to the top of the toboggan run!" he called out.
There were only sixteen stones to the twenty men, so four men were perforce inactive. The others proceeded to carry out the command with unquestioned discipline.
"Man, man," expostulated "Sandy" Fraser sorrowfully, "you're spoiling a gran' match."
But Major Flannel took a fiercer line of protest.
"What the blazes are you doing, sir?" he spluttered, red with indignation. "This is my rink, and these stones are mine and my guests'."