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THE BLACK SHEEP
69
and it seemed to me that there was something familiar in the markings of one of them.
With the help of my drivers we pulled out the man. It was no good—but one never knows.
And the same voice said, “Why, it’s ’Erb.”
Crashing back on the return journey, the limbers empty, ’Erb again bringing up the rear with the spares, one blinding flash, and
We laid him in the gutter.
Did I not say that he came from the gutter? And to the gutter he returned in the fullness of time.
