And there he remains, joking and laughing and jeering at the fears of the men, which had not abated since sunset. "You know Timmie, the deaf man, he saw about four hundred Germans in a heap. I took him by the arm and dragged him over towards the wood. He fought like a man possessed. I had to release him at last, as he would have screamed. And so I went forward all alone; and this cursed Timmie said--yes, my boy, he said: 'Oh! Lieutenant, God permits you to walk over there!'" He lowered his voice to tell me that one of the sentries had been wounded by his comrades when the firing just started. He commenced to laugh again, relating how a sergeant, seeing him walking along the parapet when the firing was heaviest, began to call himself indescribable things, jumped out of the trench and swore he would remain outside until daybreak, and only after enormous trouble and threats of punishment had Porchon induced him to get down again with his men. He further confided in me that he was rather perturbed at the shortage of cartridges and that he had dispatched a messenger to the commander for a further supply. "I should not fire unless it becomes absolutely urgent," he said. "A strong Boche patrol entered the ravine a short time ago, when the star shells went up. I know it has returned now. Butrel has been to see. They won't budge again to-night. This firing means nothing. Let it pass." With a quick jump he came to his feet again. "Listen to me," I cried. "I am going with you." He refused decidedly. "No, no! Your place is here. You must remain." I watched him move away towards the left, halt several times again and seat himself to talk more easily. As soon as the men saw him they said to one another: "It is Lieutenant Porchon." In this way his progress is announced, causing calmness and confidence right along the line. At last he returns and jumps down into the trench between Boulier and myself. "Ouf!" he exclaimed, "but things were looking rather nasty with us. I believe I was right in making my little tour. Half-past two in the morning; time is drawing on. All will go well now until daylight." Boulier suddenly exclaimed: "All the same, Lieutenant, it is not an ordinary thing that you have done. There were a thousand chances of your being wounded. And that would have been my fault, the fault of we good-for-nothings. Yes, it would have been our fault--don't let us talk about it!" "To every man his business," replied Porchon. "If I had been you, Boulier, I would not have risked my skin as I have done. Just reflect a little, and you will understand." Then, laughing still that laugh of a twenty-year-old boy, he taps me on the shoulder and says: "To-day is the 5th, the day of our relief. Unless I am very much mistaken we shall sleep to-night in our beds. Good-bye for the moment. I am going back to my men." Boulier, near me, his elbows on the parapet, watched him vanish amid the shadows. And he repeated to himself softly and without ceasing: