d; and, to the south, wired he
thought, but could not see distinctly.

Then, as the dusk of early dawn grew greyer, the first rifle shots rattled
out in the west. The French salient was saluting the wire-stringers.

Back under shelter they tumbled; whistles sounded distantly; a trench
mortar crashed; then the accentless tattoo of machine guns broke from
every emplacement.

"The east is turning a little yellow," he said calmly. "I believe this
matter is going through. Toss some dust into the air. Which way?"

"North," said the girl.

"Good. I think they're placing their cylinders. I think I can see them
laying their coils. I'm certain of it. What luck!"

The airman was becoming excited and his voice trembled a little with the
effort to control it.

"It's growing pink in the east. Try a handful of dust again," he suggested
almost gaily.

"North," she said briefly, watching the dust aloft.

"Luck's with us! Look at the east! If their High Command keeps his nose
out of this place!--if he _does_!--Look at the east, little bell-mistress!
It's all gold! There's pink up higher. I can see a faint tinge of blue,
too. Can you?"

"I think so."

A minute dragged like a year in prison. Then:

"Try the wind again," he said in a strained voice.

"North."

"Oh, luck! Luck!" he muttered, slinging his sack of bombs over his
shoulder. "We've got them! We've certainly got them! What's that! An
airplane! Look, little girl--one of our planes is up. There's another!
Which way is the wind?"

"North."

"Got 'em!" he snapped between his teeth. "Run over to the stairs. Listen!
Is anybody coming up?"

"I can hear nothing."

"Stand there and listen. Never mind the row the guns are making; listen
for somebody on the stairs. Look how light it's getting! The sun will push
up before many minutes. We've got 'em! _Got 'em!_ Wet your finger and try
the wind!"

"North."

"North here, too. What do you know about that! Luck! Luck's with us! And
we've got 'em--!" he lifted his clenched hand and laughed at her. "Like
that!" he said, his blue eyes blazing. "They're getting ready to gas
below. Look at 'em! Glory to God! I can see two cylinders directly under
me. They're manning the nozzles! Every man is masking at his post! Anybody
on the stairs! Any sound?"

"None."

"Are you certain?"

"It is as still as death below."

"Try the dust. The wind's changing, I think. Quick! Which way?"

"_West._"

"Oh, glory! Glory to God! They