"I shall not neglect your advice. It is
half-past eleven now. Come along, Bobby, and we'll see how old Ayling
is getting on."
* * * * *
Steadily, hour by hour, in absolute silence, the work went on. There
was no talking, but (under extenuating circumstances) smoking was
permitted. Periodically, as the star-shells burst into brilliance
overhead, the workers sank down behind a parapet, or, if there was
no time, stood rigid--the one thing to avoid upon these occasions
is movement of any kind--and gave the snipers a chance. It was not
pleasant, but it was duty; and the word duty has become a mighty force
in "K(1)" these days. No one was hit, which was remarkable, when you
consider what an artist a German sniper is. Possibly the light of the
star-shells was deceptive, or possibly there is some truth in the
general rumour that the Saxons, who hold this part of the line, are
well-disposed towards us, and conduct their offensive operations with
a tactful blend of constant firing and bad shooting, which, while it
satisfies the Prussians, causes no serious inconvenience to Thomas
Atkins.
At a quarter-past one a subdued order ran round the trenches; the men
fell in on the sheltered side of the plantation; picks and shovels
were checked; rifles and equipment were resumed; and the party stole
silently away to the cross-road, where the three shells were timed
to arrive at two-fifteen.
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