Nobody had seen me do it. However, I thought,
I shall be able to tell them about it at least three times to-night.
Meanwhile our bearers were collecting the enemy's dead and finishing
off his wounded. Away to the left Sir Percy and half-a-dozen more were
gathered round what I took to be the Heather Redoubt, and every now
and then a little white puff of smoke broke from the ground.
"What's the idea?" I asked over the telephone. "Rabbit warren,"
answered Sir Percy. "Bombing 'em out. I always bomb 'em out. Smithson
uses gas--poor sportsman, Smithson."
* * * * *
I was dozing lazily in the smoking-room, vaguely wondering if I could
tell them about it a fourth time, when suddenly the dressing gong
went, and someone shook me roughly by the shoulder. Outside a voice
was shouting, "Gas!"
"Poor sportsman, Smithson," I muttered, struggling into my mask.
* * * * *
EXPERIENCES.
There are few of my friends whom I hold in higher respect than the
Fladworths.
Pages:
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68