ous, for, mark you, the flares that we had popped off at 'em the
night before had left 'em with an uncomfortable feeling that their spy
was taking quite unreasonable risks. It is of course most unusual for a
spy to make use of rocket signals. Do I make myself comprehensible?"

"Perfectly. Did the Huns attack?" I asked.

McNab nodded. "They attacked us three days afterwards at five o'clock in
the morning. It was like a nightmare. The Germans came on, evidently
thinking they were on a soft job, and you can realize what a wonderful
target they made for the gunners who had been waiting for 'em. Such a
target that gunners dream about but never see. We had some
eighteen-and-a-'arf-pounders not five hundred yards away, and they let
go right into the thick of 'em. And each case shot with its four hundred
bullets swept and tore their ranks. With a mighty gasp and something
like a groan the Huns staggered, recovered, and with wild yells came
charging on to a hundred machine guns. And all the time the shells came
over at them and tore wide swathes in their closely-packed ranks. Then
our boys got into 'em and swept the remaining Huns into eternity!"

"Unless this story had come from such a highly-reliable fountain-head,
McNab," I murmured, after a moment or so, "I would never have believed
that the whole thing was not a fabrication."

McNab removed his pot of beer on one side, and leaned across the table.
I moved my chair back quickly, just missing another vigorous stab from
his huge index-finger.

"The history of this war," he observed impressively, "will be interwoven
with extraordinary things like this 'ere tale I have been telling you.
And you may lay to it, mister, that the most extraordinary things of all
will never see the light of day in the printed page."

"I can _quite_ understand that," I said pointedly; "for, although a
student of military history of this war myself, I cannot recall a single
reference to any of the remarkable events which occurred in the trenches
during the eight months you were with your regiment over there!"

McNab regarded me for a full minute with rapidly-rising choler. Then he
shifted his stare from me to an old gentleman who was warming his toes
at the fire.

"The yarn I have told you is as true as the drill book, though you need
not believe it if you have conscientious objections. I have been
recounting real slices of history. Leastways, when I say history I may
be wrong, because they wil