"Not yet," replied Percival cautiously. "It's only the first lap yet, and 'Maggie' sometimes jibs a bit when she passes the Remount Depôt."
Wuffle had his fountain-pen at the alert and looked inquiringly at Frederick.
"I suppose it is another example of deliberate waste," said the latter. "But we've got the lorries eating their heads off in the garages and the petrol is simply aching to be evaporated, so we give the drivers exercise and ourselves some excitement over organising these Area Circuit Steeplechases."
"Why not trans-ship the lorries?" suggested Wuffle.
"That would never do, old prune," said Frederick. "The troops would have nothing to guard."
"Send the men home," persisted Wuffle.
"Come, my willowy asparagus," replied Frederick in horrified tones, "we must have troops to find us work to do. Of course it's sometimes difficult to keep the men employed, and then we have to make dumps of empty biscuit tins and things for them to guard."
"I fixed up a real beauty at Le Glaxo, not ten kilometres from here," chipped in Percival. "If you'd like to see it there's a train going in about twenty minutes."
Wuffle jumped up with alacrity.
"I'd be awfully glad to get a snapshot of it," said he, disappearing in search of his hat and coat.