I made my way from the station to my tent.

In doing so I had to pass a Highland Battalion from Vancouver.

When I came to their lines, to my dismay I was halted by a sentry with a fixed bayonet, who shouted in the darkness, "Who goes there ?" I gave the answer, but instead of being satisfied with my reply, the wretched youth stood unmoved, with his bayonet about six inches from my body, causing me a most unpleasant sensation.

He said I should have to come to the guardroom and be identified.

In the meantime, another sentry appeared, also with a fixed bayonet, and said that I had to be identified.