t distinctly palatable, and was better than the coffee that was served
out later on.

He knew the masquerade could not last for ever, and at kit inspection
the moment he had been dreading came.

Luckily for him the sergeant was a good-humoured fellow, although he
opened his eyes with a start when he saw that the boyish-looking private
in front of him had no belts.

"Where is your equipment?" he said.

"I left it behind me, sergeant," replied Dennis. "We were mustered so
quickly that I had no time to go to our dug-out, which was at the other
end of the trench close to the big crater."

"Ha! We have cause to remember that crater, is it not so?" said the
sergeant gravely. "Eighteen men and two officers it cost us, and that
was why I was appointed to this company three days ago. What is your
name?"

"Carl Heft, sergeant."

"Carl Heft? Were you not attached to headquarters? What are you doing
here?"

Dennis lowered his voice.

"It is like this, sergeant," he said. "I want to be a soldier, not a
clerk. I have not fired a shot at the enemy for two months, and when the
order came to fall in I could not resist it."

The sergeant raised his eyebrows, and then a smile crept into his face.

"My boy, you are in the way to get into trouble, but never mind; I like
your spirit, and I will see what I can do for you. Can you throw bombs?"

"Ja."

"Very well, you shall join the bombers; and presently I will bring you a
bag of sweetmeats of the sort the French do not find to their liking."

His nod implied that there was already a secret understanding between
them, and as he passed on Dennis saw possibilities looming in the
future. A bomber acted more or less independently, and an avenue of
escape was opened up to him.

All that July day, however, the battalion remained on the bank of the
canal resting; and during the afternoon the mist, which had never
entirely cleared away, returned, and a thick grey fog muffled the
marshlands.

True to his promise, the sergeant had provided him with a sheaf of
grenades with copper rods to be fired from the rifle and a collar of
racket bombs, and Dennis sprang smartly to his feet when the word was
given to fall in.

"We are going to attack in ten minutes," said the sergeant. "There are
two places--the village of Biaches over yonder, and the hill of La
Maisonette more to the left. The French carried them on the 9th; they
will be ours again to-night. The fog is the very thing for us;