But by and by it petered out, and I thought I had better clear for Europe, for South Africa was settling down just as the big show was getting really interesting.

So here I am, Cornelis, my old friend.

If I shave my beard will they let me join the Flying Corps ?' I looked at Peter sitting there smoking, as imperturbable as if he had been growing mealies in Natal all his life and had run home for a month's holiday with his people in Peckham.
'You're coming with me, my lad,' I said.

'We're going into Germany.' Peter showed no surprise.

'Keep in mind that I don't like the Germans,' was all he said.