ng with excitement he focussed his telescope on the bush, and
even as he did so, he knew his vigil was over. The thing which up to
that moment he had taken for a log was a man--_the_ man, the sniper.
He could see the faint outline of his face, now that his attention was
drawn to it, and with infinite care he drew a bead on the centre of it.
Then suddenly he started shaking with nervous keenness; his left hand
wobbled like a jelly through sheer excitement until he almost sobbed
with rage. The German moved again as another rum jar burst, confident
that the English would have gone to ground to escape the trench
mortaring. It was that arrogant movement that infuriated our friend.
It struck him as a deliberate challenge. And for just a moment the
German's face and the crossed hairs of his telescopic sight coincided,
and coincided steadily.

It seemed to Reginald that his pressing the trigger and the wild
convulsive lurch of the man opposite were simultaneous. With his eye
to the telescope he watched the log that writhed and squirmed; then it
grew still, and the disguise had gone. No more a log: just a
motionless twisted form; while something that showed dark and ominous
through the telescope spread round its head. The sergeant of D Company
was avenged. . . .

With a feeling rather as if he personally had won the war, our hero
slipped backwards into the boyau beside him, and went in search of
Shorty Bill. Two hours later he found him and poured out the story.
Shorty listened in silence; then he spoke.

"I've heard men talk like you, son, when they've kissed their first
woman. Have you reported where that trench mortar is?"

"God! Shorty, I clean forgot. I'll go and do it now," remarked
Reggie, his ardour somewhat damped.

"I should dam well think you'd better." Shorty relit his pipe, and
grinned amiably. "Well done, kid; but for Holy Mike's sake don't crow
over one plurry Boche. When you've touched three figures we'll
celebrate. . . ."

He may have been right; but even on his own showing, is there any kiss
which is quite like the first? Is there any Hun, who----? Still,
possibly the analogy is unfortunate. Anyway, I have given the account
of his first cold-blooded victim; I will follow with his first
hot-blooded one.

IV

SOMEWHAT MORE PERSONAL

It occurred about six weeks later in the same part of the line; and as
a mark of special favour he had been allowed to accompany Shorty on one
of h