greater, and we heard distinctly a human voice. It was at that moment the dread suspicion first dawned on me. An army of men hung over the edge, armed to the teeth with pistols and bowie knives, tin cans and bits of brick. Tap, tap, louder and louder, came the noise. The Pouffers were silent—every one breathed hard.
Then suddenly I heard it echoing along the hollow gallery: “What a faice, what a faice, what a norrible faice—Hebeneezer, you perisher; where the ’ell are you?—lumme, what a faice she ’ad.”
“ ‘The Watch on the Rhine.’ They sing their accursed song,” howled the commandant. “Belgium for ever, mes braves!”
It was at that moment that a stout spectator, moved to frenzy by this appeal, or else owing to a rush of blood to the head, hurled his tin can. Every one fired—a ghastly noise rent the gloom of the well; there was the sound of something departing at a great rate; a heavy fall; and then silence. I walked thoughtfully back to my dug-out, refusing the offer of making further explorations. As I passed inside I met Brown. He was limping, and the skin was off his nose.”
