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At last we gave up hope of finding the horse, though the
young officer kept assuring us that he must find it at all costs.
"It's a point of honor," he said, thickly. "Not my horse, you know
Doctor's horse. Devil to pay to-morrow."
He laughed foolishly and said:
"Always devil to pay in morning."
We were soaked to the skin.
"Come home with me," I said. "We can give you a shake-down."
"Frightfully good, old man. Awfully sorry, you know, and all that. Are
you a blooming general, or something? But I must find horse."
By some means we succeeded in persuading him that the chase was
useless and that it would be better for him to get into our billet and
start out next morning, early. We dragged him up the rue des
Augustins, to the rue Amiral Courbet. Outside the iron gates I spoke
to him warningly:
"You've got to be quiet. There are staff-officers inside . . ."
"What? . . . Staff officers? . . . Oh, my God!"
The boy was dismayed. The thought of facing staff-officers almost
sobered him; did, indeed, sober his brain for a moment, though not his
legs.


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