ench from side to side.
"We are told that you kill all prisoners and all the wounded, but I do
not believe that. They feed us on lies and very little bread, while our
officers have wine and even pianos in their dug-outs," and the
nerve-shattered man burst into tears.

Captain Bob was in the act of giving instructions to one of his
sergeants to pass the deserter to the rear, when another "brass hat"
came along the trench--the genuine article this time, and one of the
best, for it was Brigadier-General Dashwood himself, followed by his
brigade-major.

The brigadier was a thick-set, soldierly looking man, fit as a fiddle in
spite of the grey hairs which mingled with his brown moustache, and his
eyes lit up as he saw his two sons still safe and well.

He was not one of those officers who paid a hasty visit now and then to
the lines, ducking his head when his guide said, "Duck, sir!" where the
wall of the traverse was low, and who, after a perfunctory glance about
him through a gold-rimmed monocle went back again to headquarters,
"having seen nothing and learned nothing." General Dashwood knew that he
had a certain section of the front to defend, and did his work
thoroughly, and the whisper often ran along the fire trench by night as
well as day: "Look out, boys, here's the brigadier!"

He listened to all they had to tell him, and questioned the deserter
closely, turning to his brigade-major several times and exchanging a
meaning nod.

"The battalion has done very well, but that is nothing new," he said
with a proud smile. "Still, it won't hurt them to hear my opinion. You'd
better come with me, Dennis; there'll be nothing more doing here
to-night, and I want someone to go to Divisional Headquarters with a
message. You'll be back at your post by daylight," and, after picking
his way along the trench to the far end and examining the German line
carefully through a periscope, he returned, to find the men of Bob's
platoon lifting out the dead Saxons and laying them on the reverse side
of the parados to await the arrival of the sanitary squad with their
picks and shovels.

"Well, so long, old chap," said Dan Dunn, as Dennis passed him. "I've
enjoyed my visit. When you look me up I hope we shall be able to give
you an equally good time. Fearfully sorry I spoiled your shot."

The cousins shook hands, and as Dennis followed his father and the
brigade-major, Bob carried Dan into their dug-out, where he found that
Australian