made that bell ring."

"Oh, is that so?" exclaimed Dubois gleefully. "I'll show you again as
soon as they stop that noise over there."

Gradually the fire from the German trenches died down and the front
regained its former state of comparative quiet. Once again Dubois
jerked his arm and again came the sound of the bell, followed by the
sudden burst of machine-gun and rifle fire.

"Dubois! What have you got there?" demanded Earl.

"A string," said Dubois almost beside himself with laughter.

"That ball of twine I brought out?" asked Earl.

"Yes," said Dubois. "That's the one."

"And you sneaked out and tied it to that bell?" demanded Leon.

"Well not exactly to the bell," replied Dubois. "I tied it to the wire
right along side the bell though; it serves the same purpose."

Again he pulled the string and the previous performance instantly was
repeated. The bell rang and the Germans fired violently. Dubois was
delighted beyond all comprehension with his exploit, and the evident
nervousness of the enemy every time the bell sounded amused him
immensely.

"You're a dare-devil," exclaimed Leon. "You took an awful chance just
to have a little fun with the Germans."

"It's not a little fun," Dubois corrected him. "It's a lot of fun."

Many of their comrades gathered around him to see the performance and
at intervals all through the remainder of the night the men amused
themselves by ringing the bell and startling the Germans. Along
towards morning Leon gave the string a vicious tug but no bell sounded
and the twine seemed not to be attached to anything.

"One of their bullets has cut the string," said Dubois ruefully. "Our
fun is over for the present I'm afraid."

CHAPTER XI

RELIEVED

The following day the French did not try to push their advantage any
farther nor did the Germans launch an attack to recover their lost
positions. Both sides seemed worn out by their great exertions and
were apparently content to allow matters to remain as they were, for
the present at least.

The big gun duel still continued but it had lost its intensity and the
infantry fighting came almost to a standstill. The men complained of
the inaction, for the life in the trenches was monotonous with but
little to vary it. They were constantly on the alert and always
prepared to meet any surprise attack of the enemy but there was but
little for the men to do.

"I don't like it," said Dubois peevishly one day. "