RAID BY TERRITORIAL FLYING CORPS
(SKY TERRIERS).
ROUT OF DALMATIANS.
FIELD-GREYHOUNDS DRIVEN OFF.
THE ADJUTANT ON LEAVE.
"Leave, I'm afraid," remarked the Adjutant, standing with his back to the fire and hitching his bath towel more securely over his left shoulder, "can only be granted now in special circumstances."
Flying being prevented for that afternoon by the weather conditions, we had been playing hockey, and the Adjutant, who by virtue of seniority had just had first go at the bathroom, was in a warm and expansive mood. The rest of us sat about in his quarters awaiting our turns at a hot-water supply that would certainly cease to have anything warming or expansive about it by the time it reached the junior Second Lieutenant.
"The question is," said that dejected officer, fixing the Adjutant with a watchful eye—"the question is, what are you going to regard as special circumstances?"
"You state your circumstances to me officially to-morrow," said the Adjutant cheerfully, "and I'll tell you quickly enough whether they're special or not,"