I was also able to watch them until they disappeared every time in a clump of bushes under the trees I had already noticed and conjectured must be along the frontier. Thus, I could fairly well assume that the position of one post was fixed. The afternoon wore on and I managed to pass some of the time by drying the compass, which had got full of water during the previous night's swim. With the exception of the regular passings of the Boche sentry-relief, the only other human being who showed himself was a shepherd, some five hundred yards away. I had an anxious time for a spell as he drove his sheep towards me, and I feared that if they came past me the dog might give me away. Fortunately he turned the flock homewards when still some three hundred yards from me. Evening slowly came, and the long hours of twilight gradually gave way to partial darkness. I cannot call it a stronger darkness than that, as the moon rose at once and the north never lost its weird light all night. I felt the want of sleep badly, but had not been able to sleep for even a quarter of an hour all day and now could not run the risk of waking too late, so had to do without it. At 10.30 I came to the conclusion that I could move at last, and very pleased I was to stand up and rub my legs after my enforced uncomfortable position all day. Setting out cautiously towards the frontier post that I had been able to more or less mark down, it was not very long before the mile or so of open that had to be covered was completed. I thought that, were I to pass close to the post of which I knew the position, I must necessarily be as far from the unknown one on my right as possible. At about 200 yards distance from what I judged to be the line of posts, I got on all fours and worked forward noiselessly. My khaki coat again stood me in good stead, as I must have been an extremely difficult object to see, even in the light which was at that time quite strong. Once more my luck held good. When about midway between the posts, the Boche sentry on duty on my right, about whom I knew nothing, very obligingly chose that moment to stand up against the sky-line and begin singing "Die Wacht am Rhein." It was a fine night, which perhaps caused him to be jovial, but probably it was the result of smuggled spirits. After singing a bit, my friend the sentry began shouting to his companion next beyond him. This made matters easier for me, and I was able to crawl forward in full confidence. A dyke, at the bottom of which was a little water, had to be crossed, and then some rough fields.