I very much want to recommend him for some decoration, but the organization
likely to appreciate the most gallant of his deeds has not yet been
formed--the S.P.G.P., or Society for the Preservation of Government
Property.
Steggles was once riding behind me down a valley liberally dimpled with
shell-holes, further dimples being in process of formation as we rode. I
was returning from an O Pip, or Observation Post, and Steggles was carrying
a pair of my boots with a rolled puttee stuffed into each. Suddenly I was
aware that he had wheeled his horse about, and was trotting back towards
the most dimply area of the valley. Out of regard for his family, I
cantered after him. He broke into a gallop. When, after a thrilling ride, I
caught him and had a little talk amongst the dimples, it appeared that he
had dropped one of the puttees, and wished to return and look for it. This
incident will, I think, demonstrate the exceptional character of the man,
who did not appear to regard himself as a hero, or to pose as a desperate
_farceur_, or to aspire to the post of Q.M.S., though, incredible as it may
seem, the puttee in question was of the variety G.S.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Orderly Officer_. "WHY DON'T YOU CHALLENGE ME?"
_Latest called-up Recruit_. "I DIDN'T KNOW YOU WERE COMING."
_Orderly Officer_. "WHAT DID THE CORPORAL SAY WHEN HE POSTED YOU?"
_Recruit_. "I WOULDN'T LIKE TO REPEAT IT TO AN OFFICER, SIR."]
* * * * *
OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
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