ing to it, detached itself from the main pile and
hurled itself into the trench. With a peculiar sliding movement it
advanced along the bottom, and then it stopped and stood upright.
Speechless with amazement, Reginald found himself gazing into the eyes
of a man which were glaring at him out of a small slit in the sacking
which completely covered him. A pair of dirty earth-stained hands
gently laid down a rifle on the fire-step--a rifle with a telescopic
sight. Then from the apparition came a voice.

"Say, kid, are you the son of a ----, who has been practising putting
the weight in my back? Don't speak, son, don't speak, or I might
forget my manners. Once in the ribs--and once in the small of the
back. God above, my lad, if I'd missed Black Fritz, after lying up
there for him for eight hours as part of the scenery, I'd have----"

"'Ullo, Shorty." The corporal rounded the traverse. "Fritz has got
another. Poor old Bill Trent. Copped clean through the 'ead."

The corporal, followed by the strange uncouth being in sacking, with
his leaves and bricks hanging about him, moved away, and Reginald
followed. With his heart thumping within him he looked at the dreadful
thing that ten minutes before had been a speaking, seeing, man; and as
he looked something seemed to be born in his soul. With a sudden
lightning flash of insight he saw himself in a frock coat behind the
counter; then he looked at the silent object on the step, and his jaw
set. He turned to Shorty Bill.

"I'm dam sorry about that brick; but I'm new to the game, and I had no
idea you were there. Didn't you say you'd got Black Fritz?"

"'Ave you, Shorty--'ave you got the swine?" An eager chorus assailed
him, but the man in the sack had his eyes fixed on the very superior
young "gentleman." At length he turned to the men around.

"Yep--I got him. Half left--by the base of that red house. He came
out of the top window. You can see a black thing there through a
periscope." The men thronged to have a look, and Shorty Bill turned to
the stone thrower.

"Can you shoot?"

"A little; not much I'm afraid."

"Like to learn the game? Yep?--Right. I'll teach you. It's great."
He moved slowly away and turned up a communication trench, while into
the eyes of Mogg's pride there came a peculiar look quite foreign to
his general disposition. A game--a great game! He looked again at the
poor still thing on the step, and his teeth clenched. Thus be