Free Behind the Lines by W. F.; Morris Page B

laughed obediently when he looked at them. They had been a contented peaceful mess till this fellow had butted in. Why should one man be allowed to annoy the rest? Surely the Major must see that the fellow was just sucking up to him. He couldn’t really be amused at that rot.
    Rawley sat in a corner and scowled. He at least would not encourage the fellow; and every time Rumbald’s eye went round the faces asking silently for a laugh, Rawley’s face alone was set like wood and did not respond.
    At last he could stand it no longer. He went to the gramophone and put on a record. And so for a few minutes the hearty voice and the syncopated tune contended for mastery; and then the Major, with an exclamation ofannoyance, lifted the needle from the record and shut off the motor.
    Rawley picked up his cap and went for a walk in the moonlight.
    On his way back up the little village street to his billet he met Piddock.
    â€œ Bon soir , my old war horse!” cried Piddock cheerfully, and fell into step beside him. “Comrade Rumbald was in good form tonight.”
    Rawley grunted.
    â€œDashed amusing bloke,” went on Piddock. “Livened the place up no end. I must hie me to Armeens. I’d no idea you’d had such a topping time there. Why didn’t you tell us about it, you lugubrious old warrior?”
    Rawley stopped at his billet. “Rumbald’s idea of a good time and mine don’t agree,” he said.
    â€œYou’re too hard to please, Rawley. It seemed a dashed good time to me.”
    â€œOh yes, he made it sound all right,” retorted Rawley.
    â€œWell, wasn’t it?”
    â€œOh yes, if you think it amusing to muck about with foul women and get disgustingly tight,” retorted Rawley savagely, and opened the door of his billet.
    IV
    The following afternoon found Rawley seated again on the bank overlooking the Doullens road. He no longer hid from himself his reason for being there. He wantedto see Berney again, and if she did not pass that day he would come tomorrow—and the next day, till she did. He sat and smoked his pipe and watched the traffic pass. He had decided what he would do if she came, and he was content to wait.
    An hour and a half went by, broken by two false alarms caused by two ambulances coming from the direction of Doullens. He saw Rumbald and Piddock emerge from the sunken track on his left, cross the road, and canter along the edge of the pasture beyond. He himself on top of the bank among the trees was invisible from below. And then an ambulance sped swiftly along the road in the direction of Doullens, an ambulance in which he recognized the figure of Berney Travers. When it had passed he scrambled quickly down to the road, and waited with what patience he could muster till a lorry came along in the right direction.
    He left the lorry in the main street of Doullens and began his search. He went first to the little square and was overjoyed to find that the ambulance was parked there. “My luck is in,” he murmured, and set off down the main street. He looked in at the paper shop where he had met her, and at the tea shop, without finding her. He visited the canteen by the station without success. Half an hour had passed, and he returned anxiously to the little square to assure himself that the car was still there. Then he made short excursions into the streets, returning periodically to the square to make sure that she had not left.
    Time was passing and he was becoming desperate. She would be leaving soon and he would have but a fewminutes with her at the most. He began to regret not having shouted to her from the bank. He walked the street rapidly, scanning both pavements for the neat uniformed figure. For the tenth time he looked into the paper shop and the tea shop. He dared not try the station again: that was too far from the square.
    Then back again he came to the square, striding fast and answering salutes impatiently, to find the