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Ebook has 995 lines and 40429 words, and 20 pages

Meanwhile the boys at the Front sent long and cheery letters almost daily. Astonishment had come to them almost as soon as they rejoined, in finding themselves promoted; they gazed at their second stars in bewilderment which was scarcely lessened by the fact that their friends in the regiment were not at all surprised.

"Why, didn't you have a war on your own account in Ireland?" queried Anstruther. "You got a Boche submarine sunk and caught half the crew, didn't you?"

"Well, but that was only a lark!" said Wally.

There was no lack of occupation in their part of the line. They saw a good deal of fighting, and achieved some reputation as leaders of small raids: Jim, in particular, having a power of seeing and hearing at night that had been developed in long years in the Bush--but which seemed to the Englishmen almost uncanny. There was reason to believe that the enemy felt even more strongly about it--there was seldom rest for the weary Boche in the trenches opposite Jim Linton's section. Some of his raids were authorized: others were not. It is probable that the latter variety was more discouraging to the enemy.

Behind the fighting line they were in fairly comfortable billets. The officers were hardworked: the daily programme of drill and parades was heavy, and in addition there was the task of keeping the men interested and fit: no easy matter in the bitter cold of a North France winter. Jim proved a tower of strength to his company commander, as he had been to his school. He organized football teams, and taught them the Australian game: he appealed to his father for aid, and in prompt response out came cases of boxing-gloves, hockey and lacrosse sets, and footballs enough to keep every man going. Norah sent a special gift--a big case of indoor games for wet weather, with a splendid bagatelle board that made the battalion deeply envied by less fortunate neighbours: until a German shell disobligingly burst just above it, and reduced it to fragments. However, Norah's disgust at the news was so deep that the Tired People in residence at Homewood at the moment conspired together, and supplied the battalion with a new board in her name; and this time it managed to escape destruction.

The battalion had some stiff fighting towards the end of the winter, and earned a pat on the back from high quarters for its work in capturing some enemy trenches. But they lost heavily, especially in officers. Jim's company commander was killed at his side: the boy went out at night into No-Man's Land and brought his body in single-handed, in grim defiance of the Boche machine-guns. Jim had liked Anstruther: it was not to be thought of that his body should be dishonoured by the touch of a Hun. Next day he had a far harder task, for Anstruther had asked him to write to his mother if he failed to come back. Jim bit his pen for two hours over that letter, and in his own mind stigmatized it as "a rotten effort," after it was finished. But the woman to whom it carried whatever of comfort was left in the world for her saw no fault in it. It was worn and frayed with reading when she locked it away with her dead son's letters.

Jim found himself a company commander after that day's fighting--doing captain's work without captain's rank. Wally was his subaltern, an arrangement rather doubted at first by the Colonel, until he saw that the chums played the game strictly, and maintained in working hours a discipline as firm as was their friendship. The men adored them: they knew their officers shirked neither work nor play, and that they knew their own limitations--neither Jim nor Wally ever deluded themselves with the idea that they knew as much as their hard-bitten non-commissioned officers. But they learned their men by heart, knowing each one's nickname and something of his private affairs; losing no opportunity of talking to them and gaining their confidence, and sizing them up, as they talked, just as in old days, as captains of the team, they had learned to size up boys at football. "If I've got to go over the top I want to know what Joe Wilkins and Tiny Judd are doing behind me," said Jim.

The men lay waiting, inwardly chafing at being left. Presently their officer came crawling back to them.

"We've got 'em cold," he whispered. "Come along--and don't fire a shot."

It was long after daylight before the German guards in the main trenches suspected anything wrong with that particular nest of machine-guns, and marvelled at its silence. For there was no one left to tell them anything--of the fierce, silent onslaught from the rear; of men who dropped as it were from the clouds and fought with clubbed rifles, led by a boy who seemed in the starlight as tall as a young pine-tree. The gun-crews were sleeping, and most of them never woke again: the guards, drowsy in the quiet stillness, heard nothing until that swift, wordless avalanche was upon them.

In the British trench there was impatience and anxiety. The men waiting to go forward, if necessary, to support the raiders, crouched at the fire-step, muttering. Wally, sick with suspense, peered forward beside the Colonel, who had come in person to see the result of the raid.

"I believe they've missed their way altogether," muttered the Colonel angrily. "There should hove been shots long ago. It isn't like Linton. Dawn will be here soon, and the whole lot will be scuppered." He wheeled at a sudden commotion beyond him in the trench. "Silence there! What's that?"

"That" was Jim Linton and his warriors, very muddy, but otherwise undamaged. They dropped into the trench quietly, those who came first turning to receive heavy objects from those yet on top. Last of all Jim hopped down.

"Hullo, Wal!" he whispered. "Got 'em."

"Got 'em!" said the Colonel sternly. "What? Where have you been, sir?"

"I beg your pardon, sir--I didn't know you were there," Jim said, rather horrified. It is not given to every subaltern to call his commanding officer "Wal," when that is not his name. "I have the guns, sir."

"The Boche--I mean, the enemy, machine-guns. We brought them back, sir."

"You brought them back!" The Colonel leaned against the wall of the trench and began to laugh helplessly. "And your men?"

"All here, sir. We brought the ammunition, too," said Jim mildly. "It seemed a pity to waste it!"

Which things, being told in high places, brought Jim a mention in despatches, and, shortly afterwards, confirmation of his acting rank. It would be difficult to find fitting words to tell of the effect of this matter upon a certain grizzled gentleman and a very young lady who, when the information reached them were studying patent manures in a morning-room in a house in Surrey.

"He's--why," gasped Norah incredulously--"he's actually Captain Linton!"

"I suppose he is," said her father. "Doesn't it sound ridiculous!"

"I don't think it's ridiculous at all," said Norah warmly. "He deserved it. I think it sounds simply beautiful!"

"Do you know," said her father, somewhat embarrassed--"I really believe I agree with you!" He laughed. "Captain Linton!"

"Captain Linton!" reiterated Norah. "Our old Jimmy!" She swept the table clear. "Oh, Daddy, bother the fertilizers for to-night--I'm going to write to Billabong!"

"But it isn't mail-day to-morrow," protested her father mildly.

"No," said Norah. "But I'll explode if I don't tell Brownie!"

"And will the Captain be coming 'ome soon, Miss Norah?" inquired Allenby, a little later. The household had waxed ecstatic over the news.

"The Captain?" Norah echoed. "Oh, how nice of you, Allenby! It does sound jolly!"

"Miss de Lisle wishes to know, miss. The news 'as induced 'er to invent a special cake."

"We'll have to send it to the poor Captain, I'm afraid," said Norah, dimpling. "Dear me, I haven't told Mrs. Hunt! I must fly!" She dropped her pen, and fled to the cottage--to find her father there before her.

"I might have known you couldn't wait to tell," said Norah, laughing. "And he pretends he isn't proud, Mrs. Hunt!"

"I've given up even pretending," said her father, laughing. "I found myself shaking hands with Allenby in the most affectionate manner. You see, Mrs. Hunt, this sort of thing hasn't happened in the family before."

"Oh, but those boys couldn't help doing well," Mrs. Hunt said, looking almost as pleased as the two beaming faces before her. "They're so keen. I don't know if I should, but shall I read you what Douglas says about them?" They gathered eagerly together over the curt words of praise Major Hunt had written. "Quite ordinary boys, and not a bit brainy," he finished. "But I wish I had a regiment full of them!"

Out in Australia, two months later, a huge old woman and a lean Irishman talked over the letter Norah had at length managed to finish.

"And it's a Captin he is!" said Murty O'Toole, head stockman.

"A Captain!" Brownie echoed. "Don't it seem only yesterday he was tearing about in his first little trousis, and the little mistress watching him!"

"And riding his first pony. She put him over her head, and I med sure he was kilt. 'Howld her, will ye, Murty,' says he, stamping his little fut, and blood trickling down his face. 'Give me a leg up again,' he says, 'till we see who's boss!' And I put him up, and off he went down the paddock, digging his little heels into her. And he's a Captin! Little Masther Jim!"

"Are you ready, Norah?"

"Coming, Phil--half a minute!"

Hardress, in riding kit, looked into the kitchen, where Norah was carrying on a feverish consultation with Miss de Lisle.

"You'll be late," he said warningly. "Your father and Geoffrey have gone on."

"Will I truly?" said Norah distractedly. "Yes, Miss de Lisle, I'll write to the Stores about it to-night. Now, what about the fish?"

"Leave the fish to me," said Miss de Lisle, laughing. "If I can't manage to worry out a fish course without you, I don't deserve to have half my diplomas. Run away: the house won't go to pieces in a single hunting day."

"Bless you!" said Norah thankfully, dragging on her gloves and casting a wild glance about the kitchen for her hunting crop. "Oh, there it is. Good-bye. You won't forget that Major Arkwright is only allowed white meat?"

"Oh, run away--I won't forget anything."

"Well, he only came last night, so I thought you mightn't know," said the apologetic mistress of the house. "All right, Phil--I'm truly coming. Good-bye, Miss de Lisle!" The words floated back as she raced off to the front door, where the horses were fretting impatiently, held by the groom.

They jogged down the avenue--Hardress on one of the brown cobs, Norah on Brunette, the black pony--her favourite mount. It was a perfect hunting morning: mild and still, with almost a hint of spring warmth in the air. The leafless trees bore faint signs of swelling leaf-buds. Here and there, in the grass beside the drive crocus bells peeped out at them--purple, white and gold.

"We'll have daffodils soon, I do believe," Norah said. "Well, I love Australia, but there isn't anything in the world lovelier than your English spring!"

Ahead of them, as they turned into the road, they could see Mr. Linton, looking extraordinarily huge on Killaloe, beside Geoffrey's little figure on Brecon.

"This is a great day for Geoff," Hardress said.

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