which promptly gave forth a crashing noise, “all come from it. I’ve just been there. I will guide you.”
Under normal circumstances I would as soon have been guided by a young elephant; but, as I say, James is difficult—very difficult.
“I think there are one or two Germans in it,” he whispered as we crawled on. “I heard one talking and threw a bomb over the traverse, but as I’d forgotten to light it it didn’t go off.”
The next instant he disappeared and the procession came to an abrupt halt. A wallowing noise was heard, and James’s head came into view again. “This is the trench,” he remarked tersely, “the cess-pit end.” It was one of the few occasions that night that I laughed.
My subaltern extended the men while I entreated James to go. I thanked him for his valuable assistance and earnestly begged him to depart. He could help me no more, and I knew there would be a calamity if he remained. It was all in vain, James was out for a night of it, so ultimately I left him to his own devices and departed to see what was happening. I found everything quite
