ss him!"

Dan Dunn's arms released their grip and fell nerveless to his sides.

"Old chap!" he exclaimed in a voice of bitter regret. "How was I
possibly to tell that? Perhaps it's not too late now!" And he bounded on
to the sandbags, but there was no sign of Anton van Drissel.

For a moment they leaned side by side over the parapet, trying to
penetrate the darkness that once more enveloped No Man's Land, and then
as Captain Bob came hurrying up, blowing his whistle for all he was
worth to recall the retiring platoon, Dennis drew his own, and the
shrill signal brought the men tumbling back again into the fire trench.

"Line up!" cried the captain as Dennis and Dan, both speaking at once,
told him what had happened.

"I knew something had gone wrong," said Bob bitterly. "What a thousand
pities the skunk got clear! Well, it's no use crying over spilt milk,
and the artillery's on them now. Do you hear that?"

The momentary lull was broken by a tremendous booming from our guns in
the rear, and a hurricane of shells began to burst on the German front
line trench and the ground beyond it, a steady, systematic bombardment,
which grew in volume and increased in intensity.

"Do I hear it?" shouted Dennis. "One can't help hearing it. What do you
mean?"

"I mean," replied his brother, making himself heard with considerable
difficulty, "that it is the beginning of the artillery preparation,
which will continue day and night without ceasing for the next week.
After that the great push is coming. That is what I mean!"

The 18-pounders, the 9.2's, the big howitzers farther to the rear--guns
of every kind and calibre blended in one infernal concert, which
extended for more than eighty miles, from the Yser to the Somme.

"If those Brandenburgers are wise they'll stay where they are to-night,"
said the Australian corporal. "Hallo, Fritz! Why, Dennis, here's your
prisoner, after all."

A white-faced man, crying "Kamerad!" at the top of his voice, climbed in
over the sandbags, trembling like a leaf, and Dennis saw that it was
indeed the Saxon he had captured at the bottom of the crump-hole over
there.

"I told you I would come," said the prisoner. "I am sick of it all--it
is horrible. The Emperor is a man without heart. He takes good care to
keep out of harm's way, and sends us to our death by the thousand.
Himmel! Look! This was my company!" And he lifted his quivering hands as
he saw the litter of corpses that filled the tr