Without moving his eyes from the pile, he slid his automatic pistol out again, and slipped off the safety catch. “Keep the light on those coats,” he said, softly, and tip-toed over to the pile, the pistol pointed, his finger close and tight on the trigger. His heart was thumping uncomfortably, and his nerves tight as fiddle-strings. He felt sure somehow that here was one man at least; and if he or any others in the dug-out meant fight on discovery, now, at any second, the first shot must come. He stooped over the coats and thrust the pistol forward. If a man was there, had a rifle or pistol ready pointed even, at least he, the Lieutenant, ought to get off a shot with equal, or a shade greater quickness. With his left hand he picked up the coat corner, turned it back, and jerked the pistol forward and fairly under the nose of the head his movement had disclosed. “Lie still,” he said, not knowing or caring whether the man understood or not, and for long seconds stood staring down on the white face and into the frightened eyes that looked unblinking up at him. “Kamerad,” whispered the man, still as death under the threat of that pistol muzzle and the finger curled about the trigger. “Right,” said the Lieutenant. “Kamerad. Now, very gently, hands up,” and again, slowly and clearly, “Hands up.” The man understood, and the Lieutenant, watching like a hawk for a suspicious movement, for sign of a weapon appearing, waited while the hands came slowly creeping up and out from under the coat. His nerves were still on a raw edge—perhaps because long days of observing in the front lines or with the battery while the guns are going their hardest in a heavy night-and-day bombardment are not conducive to steadiness of nerves—but, satisfied at last that the man meant to play no tricks, he flung the coat back off him, made him stand with his hands up, and ran his left hand over breast and pockets for feel of any weapon. That done, he stepped back with a sigh of relief. “Phew! I believe I was just about as cold scared as he was,” he said. “D’you speak English? No. Well, I suppose you’ll never know how close to death you’ve been the last minute.” “I was a bit jumpy, too, sir,” said the Signaller. “You never know, and it doesn’t do to take chances wi’ these chaps.” “I wasn’t,” said the Lieutenant. “I believe, if I’d seen a glint of metal as his hands came up, I’d have blown the top of his blessed head off. Pity he can’t speak English.” “Mans,” said the prisoner, nodding his head towards the other end of the dug-out. “Oder mans.” The Lieutenant whipped round with a startled exclamation. “What, more of ’em. G’ Lord! I’ve had about enough of this. But we’d better make all safe. Come on, Fritz; lead us to ’em. No monkey tricks, now,” and he pushed his pistol close to the German’s flinching head. “Oder mans, kamerad, eh? Savvy?”