The sun was just
rising behind the German trenches. One of the officers was burly and
middle-aged; he did not appear to enjoy bending double. His companion
was slight, fair-haired, and looked incredibly young. Once or twice he
glanced over his shoulder, and smiled encouragingly at his senior.
The pair emerged through the archway into the main trench, and
straightened their backs with obvious relief. The younger officer--he
was a lieutenant--noticed Captain Blaikie, saluted him gravely, and
turned to follow his companion.
Captain Blaikie did not take his hat off, as he had promised. Instead,
he stood suddenly to attention, and saluted in return, keeping his
hand uplifted until the slim, childish figure had disappeared round
the corner of a traverse.
It was the Prince of Wales.
XX
THE GATHERING OF THE EAGLES
When this war is over, and the glory and the praise are duly assigned,
particularly honourable mention should be made of the inhabitants of a
certain ancient French town with a Scottish name, which lies not far
behind a particularly sultry stretch of the trenches. The town is
subject to shell fire, as splintered walls and shattered windows
testify; yet every shop stands open. The town, moreover, is the only
considerable place in the district, and enjoys a monopoly of patronage
from all the surrounding billeting areas; yet the keepers of the
shops have heroically refrained from putting up their prices to any
appreciable extent.
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