"See the little pea-shooter?" said his swarthiness. "No, has she arrived?" "Yes; going to see her?" "I might if I went in good company." "Clever, ain't yuh? But who can explain pea-shooters better than your Uncle Dudley?" "Yes, your knowledge extends possibly to pea-shooters, but this thing is a man's gun." "Well, how in hell can you understand it? Nobody ever mistook _you_ for a man, you poor little runt," the last with such a look of compassion that I had to laugh. "All right, come on." Quarreling all the way we arrived at the gun emplacement. The gun supports rested on a solid concrete base, while the muzzle tilted at an angle of about forty-five degrees. The system of hoisting the enormous shells I could not fathom, but a mass of wheels and other machinery seemed to do the business as if by magic. The gun had been hauled by a powerful tractor to its present position. Brawny six-foot marines of the Royal Marine Artillery sweated as they hauled and levered to get everything in shape to make their pet comfortable while she passed the time of day with the Boches. It was all that four of these husky marines could do to roll the enormous shells by the aid of crowbars. --------------------------------------------------------------------- [Illustration: A MONSTER BRITISH GUN.] Giant guns such as this are moved about on specially constructed railways, which are always built ahead, so that when the enemy is driven back the guns can go forward instantly. --------------------------------------------------------------------- The gun, emplacement and impedimenta were painted to deceive the keen eye of the Hun air-men. A wonderful medley of colors, but experience had taught the Allies by this time the proper shading to use to make the whole thing merge with the landscape. At last everything was ready and the monster was prepared to send over her first calling card. The marines stepped away from the gun to the rear of an old barn about twenty yards off, telling us to follow. The sergeant of the marines instructed us to lie down. The ground being rather muddy, we chose to disregard his advice. The gun roared, we were knocked flat by the concussion, and when we had collected our wits sufficiently to look around we found that the barn had been knocked flat too.