"How goes it, old man?" exclaimed Spofforth, the leader of the deputation. "You've something to show for your little dust-up."

"I have," admitted Dudley. "A clean puncture through the arm. But what are you fellows doing here? You don't mean to say that the business is over?"

"By something I mean the M.C.," continued Jock Spofforth, ignoring Wilmshurst's questions. "It's in to-day's orders, so we're here to offer congrats. The battalion's doing well--a D.S.O., two M.C.'s and five D.C.M.'s; not a bad record, eh, what?"

"Yes, the show's over as far as we are concerned," added Laxdale. "We marched in yesterday. It was a jolly satisfactory piece of work that final attack on Fritz's position."

"Sorry I hadn't a hand in it," remarked Wilmshurst.

"You did, old man," protested Spofforth. "Those maps of yours--they were simply it. We just romped home, as it were. But buck up and don't look so down in the mouth. One would fancy you didn't cotton on to the Military Cross. And here's news. We are expecting orders for Mesopotamia, so that ought to cheer you up."

And Wilmshurst, M.C., of the Frontier Force, cheered up accordingly.