the trench, or against the parapet. There, after an interval of
ten seconds, Minnie's offspring explodes; and as she contains about
thirty pounds of dynamite, no dug-out or parapet can stand against
her.)

"Did she do much damage?" inquires the Gunner.

"Killed two men and buried another. They were in a dug-out."

The Gunner shakes his head.

"No good taking cover against Minnie," he says. "The only way is to
come out into the open trench, and dodge her."

"So we found," replies Blaikie. "But they pulled our legs badly the
first time. They started off with three 'whizz-bangs'"--a whizz-bang
is a particularly offensive form of shell which bursts two or three
times over, like a Chinese cracker--"so we all took cover and lay
low. The consequence was that Minnie was able to send her little
contribution along unobserved. The filthy thing fell short of the
trench, and exploded just as we were all getting up again. It smashed
up three or four yards of parapet, and scuppered the three poor chaps
I mentioned."

"Have you located her?"

"Yes. Just behind that stunted willow, on our left front. I fancy
they bring her along there to do her bit, and then trot her back to
billets, out of harm's way. She is their two o'clock turn--two A.M.
and two P.M."

"Two o 'clock turn--h'm!" says the Gunner major meditatively. "What
about our chipping in with a one-fifty-five turn--half a dozen H E
shells into Minnie's dressing-room--eh? I must think this over."

"Do!" said Blaikie cordially. "Minnie is Willie's Worst Werfer, and
the sooner she is put out of action the better for all of us. To-day,
for some reason, she failed to appear, but previous to that she has
not failed for five mornings in succession to batter down the same bit
of our parapet."

"Where's that?" asks the major, getting out a trench-map.

"P 7--a most unhealthy spot. Minnie pushes it over about two every
morning. The result is that we have to mount guard over the breach all
day. We build everything up again at night, and Minnie sits there as
good as gold, and never dreams of interfering. You can almost hear her
cooing over us. Then, as I say, at two o'clock, just as the working
party comes in and gets under cover, she lets slip one of her
disgusting bombs, and undoes the work of about four hours. It was a
joke at first, but we are getting fed up now. That's the worst of the
Bosche. He starts by being playful; but if not suppressed at once,
he gets rough; and