I had brought my own rifle with me; but this and my cartridges were taken from me the previous night. My revolver was concealed in a pocket, and I thought it wise to keep it there for the present. I could not see much to shoot at. Some of the enemy's trenches were a long way back; others, salient points, ran up to within fifty yards of our position. Occasionally I saw the spike of a helmet; but it generally disappeared before I could bring the sight of the rifle to bear upon it. The Germans usually wore their spiked helmets, jocosely called "_Pickelhaubes_," which much betrayed them when aiming from the trenches. Afterwards they became more cunning and wore their muffin-shaped caps when on duty of a dangerous character. If I could not see the enemy they appeared to see me; for several bullets came unpleasantly close, and another man at my side was struck and badly wounded in the head. Then my chance came. I saw the spike of a helmet and about an inch of the top of it. It remained so still that I concluded the man was taking careful aim, an example which I followed, and fired. I saw the dirt fly up where the bullet struck the parapet, and the spike disappeared. I do not know if the bullet found its billet--probably not; I fired about twenty rounds at similar marks, sometimes seeing just the top of a spike, sometimes nearly the whole helmet; and then, turning rather quickly, I saw the officer who had arrested me the previous night watching me. He nodded approval; and I felt that I had "saved my bacon" if nothing else; and so it proved. I was no longer treated as a prisoner, and had evidently won the respect and goodwill of those who had witnessed my endeavours to trouble the enemy. It seemed to me a rule that nobody should leave the trench until night came round; but several passages were cut to the rear which permitted the soldiers to come or go without exposing themselves to the enemy's fire. I did not attempt to go out myself until dusk, and then it came quite as a shock to find my horse gone. I searched all round, but there was not a sign of him anywhere; and I thought I heard some of the soldiers laughing. It was in vain to make inquiries: nobody could understand what I said, though they knew very well what I wanted. For there is a universal language which all understand. All the pretty girls, from pole to pole, know how to spell "kiss," and to let you know what they mean by it. Soldiers, of all people, must not cry over spilt milk, so I sat down and greased my frostbites; while a friendly corporal brought me another drink of vodka. For whatever the edicts of the Czar, this fiery liquor was always plentiful enough amongst the soldiers and the peasants, from whom, I suppose, the military obtained it. Whatever its vices it has some virtues, and is not bad stuff to give to a man who is frozen inside and out.