“We’ll call that a bargain,” said Kentucky briefly. They sat fidgeting for a few seconds longer, hearing the rush and crash of the falling shells, the whistle and smack of the bullets on the open ground beyond them. “I’m going to have a peep,” said Larry suddenly, “just to see how ‘A’ is getting on.” He stood on the fire step, with his head stooped cautiously below the level of the parapet; then, raising it sharply, took one long, sweeping glance, and dropped down again beside his fellows. “They’re nearly over,” he said. “There’s a lot of smoke about, and I can’t see very clear, but the line doesn’t look as if it had been very badly knocked about.” “There goes ‘B,’” said Billy Simson, as they heard the shrill trill of a whistle. “Our turn next!” “That open ground is not such a healthy resort as we thought it a few minutes ago,” said Larry. “Personally, I sha’n’t be sorry when we’re across it.” He spoke in what he strove to make an easy and natural voice, but somehow he felt that it was so strained and unnatural that the others would surely notice it. He felt horribly ashamed of that touch of faintness and sickness back in the communication trench, and began to wonder nervously whether the others would think he was a coward, and funking it; still worse, began to wonder whether actually they would be right in so thinking. He began to have serious doubts of the matter himself, but, if he had known it, the others were feeling probably quite as uncomfortable as himself, except possibly Pug, who had long since resigned himself to the comforting fatalism that if his name were written on the bullet it would find him. If not, he was safe. None of the four looked to see how “B” Company progressed. They were all beginning to feel that they would have to take plenty of chances when it came their turn to climb the parapet, and that it was folly to take an extra risk by exposing themselves for a moment before they need. A shout came from the traverse next to them. “Get ready, ‘C’ Company; pass the word!” The four stood up, and Larry lifted his voice, and shouted on to the next traverse. “Get ready, ‘C’; pass the word!” “Don’t linger none on the parapet, boys,” said Kentucky. “They’ve probably got their machine gun trained on it.” The next instant they heard the blast of a whistle, and a shout rang along the line. “Come on, ‘C’; over with you!” The four leaped over the parapet, scrambling and scuffling up its broken sides. Near the top Pug exclaimed suddenly, grasped wildly at nothing, collapsed and rolled backward into the trench. The other three half-halted, and looked round. “Come on,” said Kentucky; “he’s safest where he is, whether he’s hurt much or little.” The three picked their way together out through the remains of the old barbed-wire entanglements, and began to run across.