emerges that they are the ration party of the regiment on their right. ••••• At last a halt. The head of the battalion has reached the trenches and the men begin getting in. Not used to the game, there is a lot of unnecessary delay before the men are settled and the other regiment away. They have left behind two or three officers to introduce the new men to the trenches, explain exactly what places are healthy and what are not—where the ammunition is kept, and the bombs, and the flares.
“A sniper with a fixed rifle has the other side of this traverse marked,” said one of the officers to Gerald. “He’s up in a tree somewhere—so don’t keep any men on the other side of it. He’s killed a lot of ours. Listen to him.” And from the other side came a ping—thud, as the bullet hit the earth. Merely a rifle set on a certain mark during the day, and loosed off ten or eleven times every hour during the night—hoping to bag something.
“They’re pretty quiet here at present,” he was told, “but I don’t trust ’em a yard. They’re too quiet. Bavarians. If you want
