but not before I had had one gun put out of action with a bullet
through the barrel-casing. After dark things were fairly quiet, except
for constant alarms, until the order came to move back to the next
trench."

Major Kemp's fist came down upon the plank table.

"Move back!" he exclaimed angrily. "Just so! To capture Fosse Alley,
hold it all day and half the night, and then be compelled to move
back, simply because we had pushed so far ahead of any other Division
that we had no support on either flank! It was tough--rotten--hellish!
Excuse my exuberance. 'You all right, Wagstaffe?"

"Wonderful, considering," replied Wagstaffe. "I was mildly gassed by
a lachrymous shell about two o'clock this morning, but nothing to
signify."

"Did your respirator work?"

"I found that in the heat of the moment I had mislaid it."

"What did you do?"

"I climbed on to the parapet and sat there. It seemed the healthiest
spot under the circumstance: anyhow, the air was pure. When I
recovered I got down. What happened to 'A,' Bobby? I heard rumours,
but hoped--"

He hesitated.

"Go on," he said abruptly; and Bobby, more composed now, told his
tale.

"A" Company, it appeared, had found themselves clinging grimly to the
section of Fosse Alley which they had captured, with their left flank
entirely in the air. Presently came an order. Further forward still,
half-right, another isolated trench was being held by a portion of
the Highland Brigade. These were suffering cruelly, for the German
artillery had the range to a nicety, and convenient sapheads gave the
German bombers easy access to their flanks. It is more than likely
that this very trench had been constructed expressly for the
inveiglement of a too successful attacking party. Certainly no troops
could live in it for long. "A" Company were to go forward and support.

Captain Blaikie, passing word to his men to be ready, turned to Bobby.

"I'm a morose, dour, monosyllabic Scot, Bobbie," he said; "but this
sort of thing bucks me up."

Next moment he was over the parapet and away, followed by his Company.
In that long, steadily-advancing line were many of our friends.
Mucklewame was there, panting heavily, and cannily commending his soul
to Providence. Messrs. Ogg and Hogg were there, shoulder to shoulder.
M'Ostrich, the Ulster visionary, was there, six paces ahead of any
other man, crooning some Ironside canticle to himself. Next behind him
came the reformed revolutionary,