It was a cock with the true Gaelic spirit: before
the cat had time to consider the situation it had sprung on its back.
The cat beat a hasty retreat into the arms of its protector, who
replaced it under his coat. Once in safety, it stuck out its head and
swore at the cock, which, perched on a coil of rope, crowed
victoriously.
Both animals had been the companions of the men whilst in the trenches,
and they were bringing them home.
A soldier standing near me commenced to grumble because he had not been
able to bring his pet with him. I inquired why he had left it behind,
since the others had brought theirs away with them, and elicited the
information that "his pet was a cow, and therefore somewhat difficult to
transport." He seemed rather hurt that I should laugh, and assured me
it was "a noble animal, brown with white spots, and had given himself
and his comrades two quarts of milk a day." He looked disdainfully at
the cock and cat. "They could have left them behind and no one would
have pinched them, whereas I know I'll never see 'Sarah' again--she was
far too useful."
Entering Vitry-le-Francois we had a splendid example of the typical
"motto" of the French trooper, "Il ne faut pas s'en faire." One of the
motor-cars had broken down, and the officer-occupants, who were
evidently not on an urgent mission, had gone to sleep on the banks by
the side of the road whilst the chauffeur was making the necessary
repairs. We offered him assistance, but he was progressing quite well
alone.
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