I had got up again. The inflamed place on my heel was becoming intolerable. I resigned myself to taking off my shoes and stockings. The head which had formed yesterday had been pulled off. It had a very unhealthy look. An abscess would probably form.
What could I do? Report sick? For a sore on my foot! And just now too. But my claim would not be allowed. Bouchut would not look at me! I had seen poor wretches at the man?uvres forced to march with gory feet, and with septic gatherings from which blood oozed at the pressure.... No, there was no hope for me there! I must go on then, but in future should have to endure fresh torture at each step I took.
Guillaumin had joined me.
"Your foot again? Let's have a look!"
He bent down and examined it.
"The counter! Oh! be blowed to it! That is a bore! Why go out of your way to get something different from the regulation boots. I'm delighted with mine. Still it can't be helped. Something must be done for this."
I explained that I had treated myself with tincture of iodine.
[Pg 197]
"Diluted, I hope?"
"How do you mean?"
I learnt from him that the strength supplied now was too caustic.
"Some picric acid is what you want on there now."
"You haven't got any, I suppose?"
"What are you thinking of? I've got a little bit of everything!"
He went off and soon came back, with a small bottle and a brush which he carefully took out of a glass tube.
"Stings a bit, doesn't it?"
He had also brought a bit of linen. He deftly bound up my ankle. I admired his dexterity.
"Where did you learn it?"
"Hunting, of course! That's the way to get sprains."
He added:
"I think that'll do until to-morrow!"
He got hold of my boot.
"This filthy counter. That's what's the matter. If only there was a way...."
"Of doing what?"
"With some scissors.... I've got some of them too, in my housewife."
Another journey. When he had got back and adjusted his eye-glass he set to work to snip and shape. Particles of leather kept falling.
"You're not spoiling it?"
"Don't you worry! I'm an adept at this sort of thing!"
He had finished.
"Shove it on again. Well, how does it feel?"
The friction was actually much lessened.
"It will be the salvation of me, old chap!"
[Pg 198]
He made a good-natured grimace. I looked at his thick red nose, his sandy moustache with its piteous droop at the corners of his mouth, his oily hair tangled under the cap which was perched on the back of his head. There was a touch of the grotesque in his ugliness at this moment. A blundering simple soul too, and overtalkative. And yet ... what a good sort he was! He had that rarest of virtues, Kindness, the mark of real distinction of soul. What spontaneous gratitude he aroused in me. To think that quite lately I had hardly dared to defend him against Laquarrière's sarcasms. That would all be changed now. To-day my choice was made, and well made.
There seemed to be a lull in the fighting. The cannonade was less violent. I wished for a moment that the struggle might end without us.... Yes, but only on condition that the result was favourable. I was not without apprehensions on that score, for what a repulse that action, described to us the day before, must have been!
Guillaumin was hungry, and did not worry his head about anything else. Now or never was the time to stoke up. Before joining in the dance!
I took his advice. Before starting in the middle of the night, we had been given a cold meal, potatoes, bully beef, and cheese. We had some bread left. Having clubbed our provisions we ate our little feast on the moss.
"Like Robinson Crusoe, what!"
I made a point of getting my companion to take the largest helps.
When the last mouthful was swallowed, he lay down and shut his eyes.
[Pg 199]
"What do you say to a little snooze?"
I tried to imitate him, but could not get to sleep. A road ran through the wood, about a hundred yards away. Endless vehicles passed along it in an incessant string. My foot was not hurting me now. Why shouldn't I push on as far as that?
As I skirted our piles of arms I noticed an open haversack sprawling on its back apart from the others. Some undergarments were hanging out, and a squad book, and one or two other oddments were lying in the grass a little farther on.
I turned the offending object over with my foot and spelt the inscription traced on the square of grey canvas. Then I shouted:
"Judsi!"
He was seated with several others about twenty yards off.
"Judsi!" I repeated.
His neighbour, Lamalou, nudged him.
"Don't you hear the sergeant talking to you?"
"Wot's wrong?" he said without moving.
"Does this haversack belong to you?"
"Wot 'aversack? Yes, it might."
"What the deuce is it doing here?"
"Anything wrong with it?"
Judsi impertinently fixed his sly clown's eyes on me.
"You know the captain will not have untidiness or disorder. Why is your haversack open?"
The blackguard pretended to consider the matter.
"Probably ... 'cos it ain't shut!"
This reply overjoyed his audience. Loriot slapped his thigh. Lamalou nearly died with laughing. As for me, my cheeks burned. I went down on one knee, and pulled the iron rations out of the haversack with a[Pg 200] jerk. Then I counted the biscuits. Ten instead of fourteen! Four were missing.
I went straight up to the man.
"Judsi, what have you done with your biscuits?"
"My biscuits?"
He tossed his head with a monkey-like grimace.
"No 'posse' either, p'r'aps!"
"Answer me. Four are missing already!"
"Ow dear, now, wot a business!"
There was dead silence round us. They knew that matters were coming to a head.
"You know that we are strictly forbidden to touch the biscuits without orders ..." I reminded him dryly.
"Oo's orders? The ministers'?"
Judsi looked round in search of applause. He did not get it. Loriot alone sniggered in a foolish sort of way. Lamalou cut him short.
"It's true enough that we have no right."
I emphasised his words.
"Lamalou knows well enough: he's seen some fighting and knows what it is!"
The ex-private in the African battalion again agreed. I continued:
"You understand that I, personally, don't care a hang. But a time might come when we were in a jolly tight hole and should be thankful to have our biscuits. And then it's not for us to argue about it. If it's forbidden, it's forbidden, and Sergeant Guillaumin and I are responsible...."
The argument carried weight. Somebody said:
"Not worth getting slanged about!"
Bouillon outdid him.
"Strikes me it ain't the sergeants wot worries you."
[Pg 201]
"You're right there!"
They were agreed on that point.
"Well, Judsi?" I began again less severely.
He tried to get out of it.
"W'en a bloke's starvin'!"
"Starving! You've had your haversack rations."
Bouillon gave him away.
"'E didn't take 'em. Couldn't bovver wif carryin' 'em!"
Judsi dropped some of his swagger. He got up sulkily, and slowly pulled one, two, three biscuits out of his greatcoat pocket....
"And the fourth?"
"Oh!... eaten!"
"Well anyhow, put those back."
He obeyed with very sour looks; then raising his clown's face, he said:
"'Ave to put up with a empty stummick all day then?"
"I don't w............