ABSTRACT
As Guy rode behind his commander, he little realised that he was playing a part—a small part, to be sure, but, nevertheless, a distinct one—upon the stage of history. The young fellow found it hard to keep awake, for so many hours had passed and so many events happened since he last stretched himself out on a bed that he had lost count of the days and night. More than once he caught himself rolling in the saddle, at the risk of a broken neck, for the steady tramp, tramp of the men acted on his tired brain like a drug.
