The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1919-09-05
CF'ron The International News
 Bureau. InC)

Tro,tsa Cutorior of ArchangeI Province), Sept. 5.-'"what' - the colonel woke us up to inquire what is all this hring2"
 "Oh. its nothing" l protested, and tried Co go tp sleep again.
 Mir AyImcr Mauds concurrsd - Cafter looking at his watch) that 3:33 was rather early to be disturbed, es- peciaIly when one did not go to bed til 12.
 However, the colonel was bent OF Investigating the spasms of nearby rifle Are: and to this end, the village being mainly occupied by Russian troops, he desired zi-linguaI company. Which was why, courtesy conGuerins slcepIessness MT. Maude slipped his uniform over his pajamas and went forth to interpret for the disturber of our rest.
 When next I awoke it was 70 find the old farmhouse athrob with hu- man voices and footsteps. Also one noted sustained rifle fire in increased volume, supplemented every now and then by tho wicked snarI of a ma chine-gun.
 .Ivs A Mutiny!-
 'swhat Is it?" | petulauty in- quired of an intelligence officer (an- other Euglishnan in tho billeD as he moved lightly-clad through my room to gain the outer door.
 Haven't the foggiest notion he replied. a rebellious frown on his drowsy face.
 Two minutes later he returned wide awake.
 'aThere's a sergeant badly wound ed 1ust outside" he reported; adding in a lower key. 'Its muuny.
 Going upstairs, looked towards the village to the east. At the first cluster of houses, some 200 yaroS away. I noted little flashes and putfs ,s srroke. In the fields around were scattered figures in khaki. advancing. retreatiug. crouchins. each group act ing independently and in uncer- tnInty.
 Rv the sound. bullets were moving in several directions.
 sp1tsh. One struck the old farm house. Splosh! Another one. with drew from the window and returned downstairs.
 Our bedroom commanded the west ward view Over the brow Of inc cliff cautiously came several Tom mics and shouting, What are you What are your" they crouched low. roioting their rifles at the old farm house.
 The Wrong Thing.
 Deficient iu military training, ! dld tne wrong thing. Going into the next room. I submitted my grievance 70 the intelligence officer. just com pletins his nasty toilet.
 Did ever you hear of such non srrse -ss was my e,postuIat1ry l1- guirv '"The Ruskies are firing at us on one side. and here are some of our chaps proposing to start on the other.'
 The more practical Intelligence of fcer Eprang to the window and shout ed:
 "It's all right-vere British" whereupon our new assailants arose and peacefully advanced.
 without pretending to know how one is supposed to behave in a mu- tiny. found my preference bent strongly towards open spaces and the fresh air.
 Struggling as was the grouping, there was no other case of a person taking the field in single formation. So. catching sight of the Intelligence officer with a handful of Russians. I proceeded to join t1Sn. Presently we passed over the brow and down the elm.
 It was in keeping with the situa- ton that, having all safely de- seconded to the bottom of the cliffs. we should soon be climbing again to their summit
 Returning to the upper level proved something of an ordeal After