"Thanks, you're welcome to my luck," replied the wounded man as he submitted to the surgical attentions of Setley and Alderhame. "I call it jolly hard lines, just as we are going forward. Now, if this had happened while we were held up in our trenches I wouldn't have minded. Jolly rough luck, I call it."
Just then Sergeant Ferris came bustling along the captured trench.
"Hullo! Copped it?" he enquired laconically.
"Rather," replied Penfold dolefully. "Suppose there's no chance of my having a slice of that goose now?"
"Where is the bird, sergeant?" enquired Alderhame.
Dumfounded the non-com. clapped his hands on his belt. The goose had vanished—all but the legs, that were still fastened to the sergeant's equipment.
"Must 'a' lost it in the charge," decided Ferris. "I'm off back to look for it."
Regardless of the risk he ran the N.C.O. doubled across the shell-pitted ground. In five minutes he was back again, holding what appeared to be a flattened lump of mud.
"Got it!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "Found it in the track of a Tank. Only the head was to be seen, but I managed to hike it clear of the mud."
"Not much of a goose now, sergeant," remarked Ginger.