Had they noticed something? Instinctively, as if to conceal ourselves, we buried our faces so deep in the muddy soil that we could hardly breathe. A regular ostrich-trick! All the same, it comforted us somewhat. In a few minutes the voices ceased and the steps retreated again. We gave a sigh of relief. But next moment we had another fright. Something was rustling in the grass near us. From time to time the noise stopped. We both had the feeling that some one was stealing upon us. Perhaps it was one of the men who had just been speaking to the sentry? The rustling noise came nearer and nearer. As if to torture me to the utmost, a black beetle at this moment crawled over my face and walked into my left ear. I suffered agonies. What was I to do? All my limbs began to tremble. The wretched beast was burrowing further. Damnation! I could stand it no longer. W. was anxiously pressing his head against my feet to keep me from moving. But it was no use. I had to turn round slightly in order to shake the pestilent beetle out of my ear. As I did so I saw something that almost made me burst out laughing. Instead of the soldier's head which I expected to see, I saw a fine buck rabbit looking down at us full of curiosity. Another false alarm. In the course of the evening many more of these ill-mannered quadrupeds came to our hiding-place and jumped over us or stared at us with astonishment. Some of them scooted away when they caught sight of us. Perhaps they, too, had been infected with the _Daily Mail_ disease and saw a terrible danger in the 'Hun officers.' Very slowly the time passed. And it would not get dark, much as we longed for nightfall. In the distance we heard the first sounds of the concert. The silence was not so marked now, and we could move very slightly without danger. Every tiny fraction of an inch that we altered our position was a blessing. In the wet, clayey soil of the drain our limbs had long become stiff and unmovable. Partly in order to avoid attracting the sentry's attention by whispering, partly in order to pass the time, we carried on a conversation in Morse code, making the signs by gently tapping with our lingers on the side of the trench. Our conversation was going on nicely when we were suddenly interrupted by the shriek of the camp siren. Involuntarily we started. Was it an alarm signal? As we had put our watches in our inside coats we could not tell what time it was. We strained our ears to hear if anything was happening. We had not long to wait, for the band immediately struck up the final march, 'Good-bye, friends! To horse! to horse!' A load fell from our minds.