Beastly mess, eh?" he continued, but whether he referred to the
disembowelled horse or the state of his own uniform, Barry could not
say.
"You are sure you are all right?" said Barry, as he shook hands with
him. "I'm awfully glad you weren't hurt."
"So am I," said the boy heartily. "Awfully rotten to be potted out here
playing a bally policeman, eh? What? Well, good luck, sir," and Barry
rode off to join his column with a deep admiration in his heart for the
English school boy who, when war began, was probably a fifth form lad,
in whose life the most dangerous episode would be a ball taken full off
bat at point, or a low tackle on the Rugby field.
At Divisional Headquarters, they met the general, who after a
conversation with the O. C. greeted Barry warmly.
"So you have gone and done it, young man. Well, I admire your nerve, and
I congratulate you. I happen to know the family very well. As a matter
of fact there is some remote connection, I believe. By the way, I have a
communication from London for you," he added, drawing Barry to one side,
and giving him a little slip.
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