had his mouth open as if gaping at an unforeseen phenomenon. The sergeant's voice for the first time lost its monotony. It made its jump.
"Fire!
The sleek barrel sprang outward, then staggered back upon itself as the cylinders took up the recoil. The men's mouths snapped shut as they flung back the breech and prepared the gun for another charge. Ears still sang.
The air in the redoubt seemed thin and of an odd odour scarcely like burnt powder The voice of the foreign office man was no longer vibrant.
"Where did that one go?"
The colonel smiled.
"The range was for a headquarters, so it's safe to say we stirred up a colonel at least."
Maybe spoiled his tea," the foreign office man said.
"Do the Huns take tea?"
Quickly you tried to trace the result of that shell—its possible immediate destruction, its effect, perhaps, on a far away household where women and children and old men would weep and put on mourning. The absurdity of such an exercise struck you. Certainly the men who had sent shells in our direction that day hadn't troubled to forecast. They were getting back what they had
