finding himself between two
fires. "I had better lie doggo for a bit while they get on with it."
And, stepping inside the ruins of a small shop, he flung himself down on
a heap of bricks in the posture of a wounded man.

It would have been madness to do otherwise, for the machine-guns were
raining bullets everywhere; and, trembling with excitement, he lay
unnoticed for a good half-hour, until a hoarse cheer in German told him
that Biaches had passed into the enemy's hands. At almost the same
moment the modern chateau, surrounded by its park of fine trees on the
hill of La Maisonette, had been retaken by the Germans from Peronne.

But Dennis smiled quietly to himself.

"My chance will come when the counter-attack begins," he thought. "Those
brave Frenchmen don't take this sort of thing lying down."

As the firing died away cheer after cheer rent the air, followed by a
babel of voices in German as every man worked hard to consolidate the
position; and as the dusk drew down Dennis thrust his rifle grenades
inside the broken chimney of the little shop, and ventured out into the
open air.

CHAPTER XXVIII

The Exciting Adventures of "Carl Heft"

The strain of lying there hour after hour had become unbearable. The
idea had also struck him that now was his opportunity to glean some
information, if possible, about the lie of the land. There would be warm
work, he knew, and that before long, for the French "75's" were barking
in the distance, and shells were falling about Biaches and upon the hill
away to the left.

Field wagons from Peronne had clattered past his hiding-place, carrying
reels of barbed wire, and if he were fortunate he might be able to slip
through the advanced German trench before it was hedged in by that
difficult barricade. Bodies were lying thickly strewn among the brick
heaps, and one little alley down which he tried to pass was piled up six
deep with corpses.

"I wish I could get on a listening post," he thought to himself. "That
would give me a fine chance." And just then he collided with somebody,
who shook him by the shoulder and swore lustily; and he recognised the
voice of the good-natured sergeant.

"You should look where you are going, Kamerad," said the man. "And, by
the way, where _are_ you going?"

"To the front trench, sergeant," replied Dennis, speaking at a venture.
"I have just secured a fresh supply of racket bombs."

"What, you are Carl Heft, surely! Good lad, I did n