hurriedly to avoid the stream of beer that shot across the table from the Kid's overturned glass.
"Idiot child." The Company Commander roused himself from his gentle doze to contemplate the delinquent. Then he smiled. "Man, he's asleep; the boy's beat to a frazzle."
"Aye, you're right. Tim, come off that bed; the Kid is fair cooked. Wake up, infant." The Doctor shook him by the shoulder. "Wake up. Take off your boots, and then get down to it on the bed."
The Kid sat up blinking. "I'm very sorry," he said after a moment. "Did I upset the beer?"
"You did—all over me," laughed the Doctor. "Get your boots off and turn in."
"I'm so cursed sleepy." The Kid was removing his sodden puttees. "I've walked, and walked, and I'm just about" He straightened himself in his chair, and as he did so the words died away on his lips. With a peculiar fixed look he stared past the Doctor into the corner of the dug-out. "My God!" he whispered at last, "what are you doing here?"
A sudden silence settled on the mess, and instinctively everybody, including the Doctor, glanced towards the corner. Then the Doctor turned once more to the boy, and his glance was the glance of his profession.
"What's the matter, Kid?" His tone was abrupt, even to curtness. "Did you think you saw something?"
"I thought—I thought" The boy passed his
