We were, however, too glad to get away as rapidly as possible from the dusty deck, and it was already getting very hot.
Turning into one of the side streets, we beheld the immortal Septimus, looking like one who is hopelessly lost in the middle of the Sahara Desert.
Now Septimus was not a born soldier, and he had made no attempt to carry his equipment on his back; neither would it seem right for Septimus to carry any greater burden on his podgy form than his well-polished Sam Brown. So his equipment lay on the pavement beside him. He had evidently dragged it some little distance, and looked upon it as a beastly nuisance, and was standing there vainly hoping that a taxi would come to his rescue and help him carry the beastly thing away.
We gave Septimus a lift, as he evidently needed looking after.
Arriving at the hotel, we all tumbled into the dining-room for breakfast, all except Septimus D'Arcy, who made straight for the nearest bar, and was last heard of that day tapping a coin vigorously on the counter, and with the perspiration standing in beads on his nose, frantically screeching for a whisky and soda.
Two days later I received a slip of paper which warned me that I was to proceed up the line that evening.
I was a senior officer, and would have charge of all the troops departing that evening. If you have never had that job, take my tip and avoid it; for of all the thankless tasks the poor devil who suddenly finds himself O.C. train, has the most difficult one of all.
I reported to the camp adjutant, an awfully decent sort of chap, and as a farewell gift he placed in my hands a pile of documents and several sheets of printed instructions.
"There you are, old chap, you will find everything there."
"Why, what is all this about?" said I, holding on to the mysterious bundle of papers which he thrust into my hands.