Stretcher-bearers came hurrying up from the rear. The wounded were picked up and carried back, and Ray and Mac set the rest to work to strengthen their kiln-forts in case any further attempt should be made. Later, if the enemy’s guns found them out they would have to take to their trench again, but, for the time being, fairly dry bricks were better than eighteen inches of mud and water. Before dawn a field kitchen came up to the rear within reach, and they got hot coffee and bread and bully beef, and ate with the gusto of men who have fought a good fight and won. As soon as they could distinguish anything in the glimmering light, they crept out to pick up any of their wounded who might have been overlooked in the mêlée. And then they turned their attention to their fallen foes. They lay in heaps, piled two and three on top of one another,--grim enough by reason of their numbers but, shot mostly in the body, not so ghastly as if they had been ripped to fragments by shell-fire. Ray and his trusty Sergeant were prowling about when they came on an officer, buried all but his head under a pile of bodies. His eyes, straining and bloodshot with impotent fury, showed still plenty of life and ill-feeling in him, however sore his wounding. Ray called up a couple of bearers and they all set to work to free him from his lugubrious load, and all the while he scowled at them like a vicious dog and said no word of thanks. As they lifted off the last body, and bent to raise him, he drew his hand out of the breast of his unbuttoned greatcoat, and, before they knew what he was at, let fly with a large automatic pistol full at Ray. One bullet took off the lobe of his ear, the rest went crashing into his left shoulder. Before the vicious wretch could do any more mischief, Sergeant Mac brained him with a rifle-butt and hissed as requiem, “Ye dirrrty snake!” and then turned his attention to Ray. “I’ll have to get back, Mac,” he said quietly, and started off at a quick walk. “Ye’ll no!” and caught him as he reeled, and laid him gently on the stretcher. “Look to things, Mac,” as he felt suddenly very tired and inclined to sleep. “Go quick, boys!” ordered Mac. “His shoulder’s in rags and he’ll bleed out unless you get him tied up.” One of them pulled out bandages and hastily padded and bound the ragged shoulder, and then they set off as fast as the broken ground would let them. “During the night the enemy made a violent assault on our advanced trenches. It was repulsed with loss. Our positions are maintained,”--said the despatches. XXXVII Lois had had no letter from the front for four days, which was a day longer than the longest between-time for a long while now, and she was feeling somewhat anxious.