a German cartridge.

For an instant he believed himself to have penetrated an enemy sap, but
now he knew that somewhere close in front lurked a German sniper!

Dennis Dashwood dropped on to one knee and peered along the passage. A
faint light filtered through the darkness and a voice boomed dully.

"That is my first miss to-day," came the words in German. "This wind has
given me a bloodshot eye, and I am shivering. Will you go back and bring
me a couple of bottles of wine, Joachim?"

"With pleasure, Kamerad," said another voice, and the light was blotted
out as a figure rose from the ground where he had been sitting on his
heels. Dennis made out the outline of the sniper stretched at full
length on a blanket, his rifle in front of him on a wooden stand, but it
was too far to get back unseen, for the man was slouching heavily
towards him, and in another moment discovery would be inevitable.

Dennis raised his right arm and fired his last cartridge, and the
messenger fell forward, dead as a herring.

With a startled shout of surprise the sniper faced about, but Dennis was
upon him, and, locked in a terrible embrace, the pair fell with a crash
on to the chalky floor.

All fatigue seemed to vanish from the boy's limbs as he and his opponent
rolled over and over, and he strained every nerve in a struggle which he
knew could have only one end.

For a whole minute the narrow passage was filled with the sound as of a
terrific dog fight, for Dennis had managed to get his head well fixed
under the sniper's jaw, effectually preventing any words leaving his
lips. Instead there came a stream of weird snarls and hisses and
spluttering coughs, accompanied by the savage kicking of heavy boots
against the walls of the gallery.

Their arms were round each other, and they struck out with their knees,
but the thin muscular frame proved more than a match for the stouter
man, and at last, pinning him down in a corner, where he panted quite
out of breath, Dennis withdrew his head, and they looked into each
other's faces by the light that filtered in again through a crevice at
the end of the tunnel.

"You'd better surrender without any more fuss," said Dennis. "Perhaps
you don't know that we've taken your first line trench. Otherwise I
shouldn't be here."

"You are a liar," was the polite reply. "All Englishmen are liars."

"Have it your own way," said Dennis with a superior smile, as he began
to get his own breathing under contr