quiet, maybe engaged, perhaps just married, hating to separate.

At last the remaining white frocks flutter through the big gate and
join in the stream already straggling across country toward the
railway-station, every one quiet and very tired.

In camp the boys stroll over to their tents, exchanging an occasional
word with pals, but for the most part silent, and turn in, tired also,
and a little thoughtful. In an hour all the stars shine brightly from
the velvety, blue-black sky, the soft-scented air wafts in through open
tent-flaps, lights are out, and all is quiet in the camp, except for
the periodical changing of pickets and the occasional roar of a passing
train in the distance.




CHAPTER VI

MANY WEEKS AT SEA

A troop-ship has no longer a name, but although the ship we boarded at
Port Melbourne docks was designated by the number A 14, it was not hard
to discover that we were on a well-known ocean-liner, for on life-buoys
and wheelhouse the paint was not so thick that inquisitiveness could
not see the name that in pre-war days the Aberdeen line proudly
advertised as one of their most comfortable passenger-carrying ships.
That meant little to us, for her trimmings of comfort had been stripped
off but for a few cabins left for the officers, and when we were
mustered in our quarters, we wondered where we would sleep, for no