Evening Star Newspaper, June 4, 1930, Page 22

- JOURNEYS END! RC Sherrif and Vernon Bartlett (Continued From Yesterday's Star.) As for Stanhope, the smile died out of his face as soon as he had passed the window, and it gave way to & oer~ tain sternness which made each pla- toon commander hope that no man had forgotten to shave or had got his rifle dirty. There had been the letter to Madge to explain why he had not come home on leave, and he hated lyin above everything else. Yet how coul he possibly have told Madge that he had taken his leave in Paris because he had not dared to face her, whom he loved, and his father, whom he respect- ed? He had put off writing so long that she, who 5o hated to show her own feelings. had sent him little reproaches, flavored with anxiety: “I know you must be fearfully busy, but it is rotten hearing from you so seldom”; or “Your leave seems long overdue. It's like you not to worry about yourself, but youll do even better if you get away some time. Your father, in his letters, sounds very worried”; or “Despite the hospltal, I'm keeping the tennis lawn weeded and rolled. I'm getting pretty soft, but I'll still give you a good game”; or “It's a bit lonely, and 1t will be ripping when vou get back for a few days. Official post cards aren't much of a consolation.” So he had lied, and had explained how it had only been possible to get two days’ leave, which he had spent in Paris with the Duquesnes, who had taken him as a paying guest one Sum- mer holiday at Etretat. And lest his excuse should sound unconvincing, he | te had given a most detalled account of all he was supposed to have done in the French capital, of the shows he had seen (the names of which he had got out of a newspaper in his billet), and of the people he had met. But it was all a lle. Having refused leave as long as he could, since he did not know how to spend it, he went to Paris, picked up with a gang of embusques, who were busy collecting medals and decorations in the Cafe de la Paix, and drank until he could forget how he was wasting precious hours that might have been spent with Madge on the tennis lawn, or strolling through the woods along the bank of that stream that ran near the Raleighs' house. He could not tell her of the drunken evenings, and of the mornings, when misery filtered into his brain as the daylight filtered into his dingy hotel bed room. So he rode, a morose figure, at the head of his company, toward the firing line. CHAPTER XIL TANHOPE stood in the alcove made by a small dugout, the roof of which had been destroyed by & shell, and watched the men as they filed in from the . munication_trench. “No. 1 platoon to the right; Nos. 2, 8 and 4 to the left” the sergeant- major ordered from time to time, and the file of tired men went right or left as though they were taking part in some ludicrous folk-dance. It had been muddy on the way up, and many of them had slipped and slithered until they were plastered with caked earth that cracked as they walked. Pvt. Donovan, of course, was one of them, and, as the sergeant-major pointed out to him with a peculiar and enviable G PALATS ROYAL B You Can Match Your Shantung with Real Prystal Jewelry 1.88 and 94¢ Shantung has a sporting air, and prystal is the sports jewelry . . . the colors are legion. Main Floor with Shantung Handbags Chic meets chic when Shan- tung wmeets Shantung in matching or accenting color « . . Sntriguing shapes, orna- ments and price. Main Floor with Straw or Fabric Hats 5.00 to 10.00 Light-weight hats set off Shantung’s sturdy look to perfection. . .there are be- witching shades and shapes. Third Floor Y bluntness of language, he had man- aged, as he always did, to get the musele of his rifle choked with mud— an offense which, in the eyes of au- thority, was very nearly a crime. The men, laden with packs, equip- | ment, rifles, bundles of firewood, great coats, boxes of ammunition, sheets of | corrugated iron, and piles of new sand- bags, pushed their way along the nar- row trench, past the company they had to relieve. This company was impatient, but cheerful, since it had every prospect of four days' “rest”—four days of parades, rifle and kit inspection. and route marches, but relieved and made glorious by ample leisure for sleeping and loafing around in idleness. “C” company, on the other hand, was in a bad temper, for the communication trench had been kept in bad repair, and the whole place was dirty and untidy. “IT bet it’s Hardy's company,” Stan- hope grumbled to himself. And, sure enough, down in the dug- out, Osborne was ‘taking over” from a red-faced, cheerful-looking captain who, as he gossiped, held a large sock to dry over a candle flame. He was a slap- dash sort of man who had never be- lieved in neatness and tidiness at home, and could not agree with com- manding officers out in France who looked upon these qualities as all- important. He argued, and with a cer- tain amount of reason, that his men would fight if and when they got a chance, and that nothing else mat- | red. So while Osborne tried to “take over” in the approved style, Hardy offered him whisky, whistled a new tune he had picked up on leave, and continued to dry his sock with an intentness which seemed to indicate a belief that even the war was an affair of only secondary importance. 2 “Youw'll excuse my sock, won't you?" he asked, remembering his manners. “Certainly. It's a nice-looking sock.” “It is rather, isn't 1t? One of Sister Susie’s—guaranteed to keep the feet dry. Trouble is that it gets so wet doing it.” “Stanhope asked me to come and take over. He's looking after the men coming in.” | “Splendid!” declared Hardy, with an | emphasis which Osborne might take | either as a compliment or as an ex- | pression of Hardy's relief that Stanhope, | with all his fussy ways and strict ideas | of discipline, was not the man with whom he had to deal. Knowing his Hardy—for he had often ridden with | him to Poperinghe, or over Mont Noir to Bailleul, for tea in the days when the Brigade had been in Ypres Salient | —Osborne felt that no compliment was | involved. “You know, I'm awfully glad you've come,” the other went on. To which Osborne, again knowing hgis Hardy, expressed some surprise. “Why, I thought it was such a quiet bit of line up here?” Hardy became so serious that he put his down on the table and leant forwar “Wel So it is—in a way. But you never know. Sometimes nothing happens for hours on end. Then, all of & sudden, ‘over she comes'! Rifle- grenades, ‘minnies,’ and those horrid little things that look like pineapples— Your Summer Days in THE EVENING but ll"‘l:I"L BSwish—swish—swish—swish | sees “All right!” protested Osborne. “All right! 1 know. What about this handing over?” Hardy went én, puying no attention to the other’s question, “You know the big German attack’s expected any day now?” been expected for the Ilast “It's month.” ‘““Yes, but it’s very near now. There's funny things happening over in the Boche country. I've been listeming at night when it's quiet. There’s more transport than usual coming up—you can hear it rattling over the pave all night. More trains in the distance, puffing up and going away again, one after another, bringing up loads and loads of men.” Osborne responded to the other’s unusual solemnity. ‘“Yes,” he agreed gravely, ¥it's coming pretty soon now.” “Are you here for six days?” asked Hardy, pulling on his sock. Osborne nodded. “Then I should think you'll get it— right in the neck.” “Well, you won't be far away. Come along, let'’s do this handing over. Where’s the map?” Hardy groped unhopefully among the papers and odds and ends on the table. He seemed quite surprised to find a tattered map, which he spread out un- evenly on a water bottle, a tobacco tin and some ration biscuits. He explained, in a vague way, that the company held 200 yards of the line, that the Germans were 60 yards away, that the larchwood marked on the map could be recognized by a few broken, splintered tree stumps away to the left, and that a little heap of red bricks in No Man's Land was called Beauvals Farm. “I shouldn't let the men go out for vegetables in the garden,” he advised. “There's a sniper who's got a grudge against .egetarians. I've had two fel- lows hit that way.” “Where do the men sleep?” asked Osborne. “I don’t know. The sergeant-major Would You Escape —the ordeal of looking for shoes of actual comfort that look well, escape trying on shoe after shoe every time youw need shoes? ANTIOCH SHOES —are ideal shoes for comfort and beauty; once fitted youean rejorder by telephone or mail. Prices, 11.00 to 15.00. BURT'S 1343 F Shantung « o « pet of the style-wise and the budget-conscious alike . . + for Sports . . . Spectator . . . and Travel wear. - « « « with the Accessories that cleverly accent its pervasive Women's Ensemble, coat dress wi skirt. white and Shantung Tennis Prock in white and pastel shades; with inverted pleats all around, and interest- ing tuck details; one of many at— 15.00 over Dozens of Other Natural, green, 16.50 Shantung ¥4-length sleeveless th pleated Misses’ Shantung 3- Piece Tuck-in, orchid pink, coral, maize, green and blue with white blouse. Sizes 14 to 20. 15.00 orchid. Ideas in Shantung STAR, WASHINGiION, to that. As for this fine, well appointed residence, the servants and signalers sleep in there, through that hole to the left. Two officers sleep here, and three more through that hole to the right. Gravel soll, a large garden, and the most commodious living rooms in_the sector. All yours, my boy, and I'll throw in the pictures for nothing.” Fe repented quickly of his generosity. “All except this one,” he added, and carefully unpinned from one of the wooden props picture from La Vie Parisienne, lho'i:l:‘ an unusually roguish-looking d: in considerable trouble with her skirts in an unruly wind. He folded it with un- wonted neatness and care, and put it 1Bn lt(he pocket of his Field Message ook. Osborne wandered round the dugout to take stock of it. It was good, as dugouts went, but dirtier than either he or Stanhope would like. “Is this the best bed?” he asked, prodding the wooden frame covered with wire netting on which Hardy was sitting. “No, that’s my bed over there,” the other said. And he went on to explain that the others in the farther dugout were not so satisfactory, since the wire netting had gone in places, and a fel- low could only keep in one of them by hanging his arms and legs over the side. “Don't hang your legs too low, though,” he advised, “or the rats gnaw your boots.” ‘ “Got many rats here?” Hardy reflected for a minute, *“I should say, roughly, about two million. Blllxt then, of course, I don't see them all” A subaltern in his company came down to announce that the men were all ready to start down the line, and Hardy hurriedly pulled on his boot. “Carry 'n,” he ordered the officer. “I'll be up in half a jifty.” Then he turned to Osborne. “Well, that's all right, isn't it?” he asked. “I think I'll be going.” “But don't you want to see Stan- hope?” (Continued in Tomorrow’s Star.) The size range is large. 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