Presently the bombs began to arrive, passed from hand to hand.
Wagstaffe returned, this time along the trench.
"We shall have a tough fight for it," he said. "The Bosche bombers
know their business, and probably have more bombs than we have. But
those boys on our right seem to be keeping their end up."
"Can't _we_ do anything?" asked Bobby feverishly.
"Nothing--unless the enemy succeed in working right down here; in
which case we shall take our turn of getting it in the neck--or giving
it! I fancy old Ayling and his popgun will have a word to say, if he
can find a nice straight bit of trench. All we can do for the present
is to keep a sharp look-out in front. I have no doubt they will attack
in force when the right moment comes."
For close on three hours the bomb-fight went on. Little could be seen,
for the struggle was all taking place upon the extreme right; but the
sounds of conflict were plain enough. More bombs were passed up, and
yet more; men, some cruelly torn, were passed down.
Then a signal-sergeant doubled up across country from somewhere in
rear, paying out wire, and presently the word went forth that we were
in touch with the Artillery. Directly after, sure enough, came the
blessed sound and sight of British shrapnel bursting over our right
front.
"That won't stop the present crowd," said Wagstaffe, "but it may
prevent their reinforcements from coming up.
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