hree Bavarians went down before him with lightning rapidity, and as a
fourth fired at the Captain from the hip and missed him, the Company
Sergeant-Major was on him like a knife.

"Let 'em have it, boys!" shouted Bob, and as a voice replied, "Look to
yourself, sir, we're all right," the foremost rank of the enemy was
hurled into the water, through which the khaki lads splashed to the
opposite bank.

There was a scramble and a squeeze. One or two slipped back, and the
weight of their accoutrements took them to the bottom, but the bulk of
them gained foothold, and nothing "made in Germany" could stay the rush.

Then the Lewis gun barked from the barn end, and a tremendous yell from
the opposite flank told that the Highlanders were coming.

For the life of him, when he came to think over it afterwards, Dennis
could recall nothing of that mad minute but the crack of his own
revolver as he emptied it into the closely packed mass before him, and
then a sea of terrified faces, growing grey like the uniforms they wore,
as the Bavarians broke and went back helter-skelter up the slope.

Somebody shouted "Keep 'em moving, boys!" and the next thing he knew was
that the fugitives were flinging themselves into the trench on the
hill-top, and that he and A Company were dropping in after them,
regardless of all consequences.

Here and there a too eager man was spitted on a German bayonet; here
and there also a pair of arms went up, and the hated word "Kamerad"
smote the ear with a false note. But the Reedshires were taking no
prisoners that morning, and having reached the trench on the very heels
of the foe, the Bavarians made no attempt to hold it, and went streaming
away along the communication that led into the heart of the wood.

Dennis looked back for a moment as he came to the shattered trees, which
lay about in all directions in the most extraordinary confusion, and saw
that the C.O. and the rest of the battalion had already cleared the
stream, and were coming up in support.

"Keep on, old chap!" cried a voice, as Bob ran up. "Are you all right so
far?"

"Yes, I'm all right; but, by Jove, you look a pretty beauty!"

The once smart captain, who somehow or other even in the wet trenches
had generally managed to appear spotless, like the officers of the
French army, who always looked as though they had been turned out of a
band-box, now presented a most disreputable appearance.

His helmet was gone, his Bedford cords we