f an hour the whoop and crash of falling and bursting shells kept
us alternately ducking our heads and raising them again to see "where
that one went," for curiosity is many times a stronger impulse than
fear.

Curious things happened. A tree was cut in half by a shell, and the
plumed top, falling clear of the stump, planted itself like a dart in
the ground a few feet away.

A pack horse suddenly bolted across the open field with a slight cut on
one flank, and half a dozen men made wild grasp at its bridle before one
succeeded in recapturing the brute. And here and there groups of men
finding their corner of the field a bit too "hot" for comfort would just
as suddenly bolt across to another part and start feverishly digging in
anew.

The shelling ended with as little warning as it had begun. There came a
pause, and we thought naturally, "Well, thank God that's over!"--and
said so. "Just a minute," said my companion; "there are the Three
Sisters to come yet!"

Before one could say "Here they are!" the rush of much larger
projectiles was heard, and in quick succession three heavy shells
crashed into the foot of the field, throwing up black columns of smoke.
"Those are coal-boxes," continued my tutor; "they used to have four guns
in that battery, but they are only using three now."

The chuckle with which he added this last showed that he, at any rate,
had no doubt as to the fate of the fourth gun.

This was evidently the end of the shelling, the enemy having,
theoretically, made the field untenable. The actual casualties were,
however, very slight, and the field entrenching tool, until now regarded
as a toy, became a valued possession. We were already beginning to learn
that the British infantry equipment is the finest in the world.

The shelling over, the draft was divided up amongst the remnants of the
four companies, and Lyte and the writer had the good fortune to be
placed with the same one.

Our company commander had been a lieutenant till a few days before, and
was now a temporary captain. His senior subaltern was wearing a "British
warm," the skirt of which had been riddled by machine-gun bullets, and a
sergeant was to come out in orders that evening as an officer to take
the remaining platoon.

A machine-gun duel in mid-air between one of our planes and an enemy
machine that was eventually driven off and the dropping of some large
shells into Ypres were the only other events of the day. Most of us
slep