Glad of the opportunity to catch up with his correspondence, Barry paid little heed to the passing of time. His last letter was to the V. A. D., in which he poured out the bitterness of his disappointment that he was not even now on his way to Boulogne and to her, and expressing the hope that after this “show” was over, he would be granted leave, upon which happy event he would with all speed proceed to her. She had been speaking of a trip to England. Would it not be a very wise and proper proceeding that she should make her leave to synchronise with his? Now he must be off, and so with love to her, and with the hope that they might see London together--
Just then Monroe came with the startling news that the battalion had “moved up” hours ago.
“Which road?” enquired Barry, springing to his feet.
“Don't know, sir,” replied Monroe, who had evidently his own opinion about matters. “But I met a padre,” he continued, “who told me that there was a stream of wounded passing through the Brandhoek Clearing Station. He said they were very short-handed there, sir,” and Monroe regarded his officer with anxious eyes.
“I hate to take you up there, Monroe,” said Barry with a smile.
“Oh, that's all right, sir,” said Monroe, hastily, “but I guess we'll have to hurry.”
“I remember, Monroe, that your major and you would have sent me out of this, but you know well enough that there's only one place for me to-night, and the question is, where is the battalion--Ypres Barracks, Chateau Beige, Zillebeck, or where?”
“I enquired at the transports, sir,” said Monroe, “and no one appeared to know. They moved out quietly and left no word behind.”
“All right, we'll go up to Chateau Belge, and if they are not there, we'll make a shot at Zillebeck,” said Barry. “We'll go right away. We don't need a lot of truck this trip.”
It was a long and tiresome march, but Barry found himself remarkably fit, and already under the exhilaration of what was before him. At the Chateau Belge they found no word of their battalion, but they were informed that the shelling on the Kruisstraat road had been bad all afternoon, and was still going on. The Boches were paying particular attention indeed to the crossroads.
“All right,” said Barry. “We'll go up and have a look at it, anyway.”
