forgotten it since he had seen the lithe, cunning
figure of the Brandenburger creeping in front of him. True, in that
curious state in which he had been--a state bordering on
unconsciousness--he had hardly been able to appreciate at times the
significance of the German's presence; but now he had wakened fully to
its importance.

"Jingo," he told Jules as they squatted there in the darkness, "we must
find the beggar! He's armed, without a doubt; and, worse than all,
he's behind our fellows, for they've gone forward into the fort.
What's to prevent him shooting 'em in the back? What's to prevent him
carrying on any sort of vileness? We've got to follow at once, and, by
hook or by crook, we've got to capture or kill the beggar."

"Whichever you like--either will suit me," Jules responded; "and in any
case, if he's caught, it'll come to the same thing. Once we've marched
him back behind our lines, and handed him over as a prisoner, he'll be
shot, my boy. We can prove that he would have deliberately shot a
prisoner; so it seems to me that, if we meet the gentleman, the best
thing will be to end the matter promptly. But we've got to find him
first, and perhaps he'll have something to say when it comes to a
question of shooting."

Max, that sinister Brandenburger officer, was indeed likely enough to
have a considerable amount to say in the question of his own disposal.
Knowing the class of man he was--his fearlessness, for that seemed to
be his one virtue; his frightfulness, for bullying and terrible deeds
seemed to be the characteristic of every subject of the Kaiser--it was
likely enough that this fellow would do anything to outwit the
Frenchmen, and, if he could, would shatter the fort and bring it down
upon his own head rather than see the French victorious.

"Stop! Wait a moment! I heard something move! Come on!" said Jules
suddenly.

And together, creeping on hands and knees, the two went forward along
that gallery in search of the German.

CHAPTER XIX

Heroic "Poilus"

Who can describe the condition of affairs in the shattered fort of
Douaumont on that night when the gallant Bretons of the 20th Corps
hurled themselves against the captors of the position? The whole of
the fighting round the salient of Verdun since that eventful 21st
February--now seemingly so long ago, for so much had happened, yet in
reality less than a week--had been marked by the incessant thunder of
guns, the continuous d