"Thou shalt not allow thyself to be found out."

We were short of firewood. So George discovered that his engine wanted a
little tuning, and started out on a voyage of discovery. Soon he came
upon a heap of neatly cut, neatly piled wood. He loaded up until he
heard shouts, then fled. That night we had a great fire, but in the
morning came tribulation. The shouts were the shouts of the C.R.E. and
the wood was an embryonic bridge. Severely reprimanded.

Then there was the Honey Question. There were bees in the village and we
had no honey. The reputation of George was at stake. So one night we
warily and silently approached some hives with candles; unfortunately we
were interfered with by the military police. Still an expedition into
the hedgerows and woods always had an excuse in time of war, and we made
it.

The village of Acy, high on the hill above the road to Venizel, was the
richest hunting-ground. First, there was a bread-shop open at certain
hours. George was often late, and, disdaining to take his place in the
long line of those who were not despatch riders, would march straight in
and demand bread for one of his two worthy charities. When these were
looked upon with suspicion he engineered a very friendly understanding
with the baker's wife.

Then there was a dark little shop where you could buy good red wine, and
beyond it a farmer with vegetables to sell. But his greatest find was
the chateau, which clung to the edge of the hill and overlooked the
valley of the Aisne to Condé Fort and the Hill of Chivres.