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were the best we'd had off the old tree that autumn.


OCTOBER BROUGHT an extension of my sick leave
and some mornings with the hounds. By the
time I received another letter from Dottrell. Dclville
Wood had more or less buried its dead, in my mind
if not altogether in reality. The old Quartermaster
let off steam in a good grumble from which I quote
a specimen.

"Well, we have been out at rest about 10 kilos from
the place we were at last Xmas. We expected to be
there three \veeks but after 8 days have had sudden
orders to move to the old old spot with a Why. Kin-
jack left us to take command of a Brigade; a great
loss to the Battn. They all come and go; stay in the
Batt. long enough to get something out of it, and then
disappear and will hardly give a thought to the men
and officers who were the means of getting them higher
rank. It's a selfish world, my friend. All successive
C.O.'s beg me to stay with the old Battalion they love
so well. I do. So do they, till they get a better job.
They neither know nor care what happens to me (who
at their special request have stuck to 'the dear old
Corps') when I leave the Service on a pension of$os.
a week,"

I am afraid I wasn't worrying overmuch about "the
dear old Corps" myself, while out with the Ringwell
Hounds on Colonel Hesmon's horses. In spite of the
War, hunting was being carried on comfortably,
though few people came out. "The game was being
kept alive for the sake of the boys at the Front", who
certainly enjoyed the idea (if they happened to be