Pollers had had a little adventure. He was with some of our men when he
saw a grey figure coming down one of the glades to the road. We knew
there were many stray Uhlans in the forest who had been left behind by
our advance. The grey figure was stalked, unconscious of his danger.
Pollers had a shot with his revolver, luckily without effect, for the
figure turned out to be our blasphemous farrier, who had gone into the
forest, clad only in regulation grey shirt and trousers, to find some
water.

Later in the afternoon I was sent off to find the North Irish Horse. I
discovered them four miles away in the first flush of victory. They had
had a bit of a scrap with Uhlans, and were proudly displaying to an
admiring brigade that was marching past a small but select collection of
horses, lances, and saddles.

This afternoon George smashed up his bicycle, the steering head giving
at a corner.

We bivouacked on the drive, but the hardness of our bed didn't matter,
as we were out all night--all of us, including the two, Grimers and
Cecil. It was nervous riding in the forest. All the roads looked exactly
alike, and down every glade we expected a shot from derelict Uhlans.
That night I thought out plots for at least four stories. It would have
been three, but I lost my way, and was only put right by striking a
wandering convoy. I was in search of the Division Train. I looked for
it at Tournan and at Villeneuve and right through the forest, but
couldn't find it. I was out from ten to two, and then again from two to
five, with messages for miscellaneous ammunition columns. I collared an
hour's sleep and, by mistake, a chauffeur's overcoat, which led to
recriminations in the morning. But the chauffeur had an unfair