"Man, man," cried Bogle with passionate earnestness, "dinna gang ower far!"
"What the 'ell for?" inquired Johnson, impressed despite himself.
"What for?" Bogle's voice dropped to a ghostly whisper. "Has it ever occurred to you, my mannie, what would happen tae the English—if Scotland was tae make a separate peace?"
And Mr. Bogle retired, not before it was time, within the sheltering portals of the estaminet, where not less than seven inarticulate but appreciative fellow-countrymen offered him refreshment.
X
FULL CHORUS
I
An Observation Post—or "O Pip," in the mysterious patois of the Buzzers—is not exactly the spot that one would select either for spaciousness or accessibility. It may be situated up a chimney or up a tree, or down a tunnel bored through a hill. But it certainly enables you to see something of your enemy; and that, in modern warfare, is a very rare and valuable privilege.
Of late the scene-painter's art—technically known as camouflage—has raised the concealment of batteries and their observation posts to the realm of the uncanny. According to Major Wagstaffe, you can now disguise anybody as anything. For instance, you can make up a battery of six-inch guns to look like a flock of sheep, and herd them into action browsing. Or you can despatch a scouting party across No Man's Land dressed up as pillar-boxes, so that the deluded Hun, instead of opening fire with a machine-gun, will merely post letters in them—valuable letters, containing military secrets. Lastly, and more important still, you can disguise yourself to look like nothing at all, and in these days of intensified artillery fire it is very seldom that nothing at all is hit.
The particular O Pip with which we are concerned at present, however, is a German post—or was a fortnight ago, before the opening of the Battle of the Somme.