“No,” I explained. “Look at the paper again. (I had drawn it out for him, as I have on the previous page.) Thomas shot at those R.E.’s this morning, don’t you see? He was here (B), and they’re at D. Now they’re trying to find _you_, or the man who shot their pal; and you can bet anything you like they’ve got a man watching either at C or right away on the left to spot you if you fire at the dummy. No. Lie doggo, and see if you can spot that man on the flank. He’s probably got a periscope.” “Can’t see him, sir,” at length. “No. Never mind; he’s probably far too well concealed. Always remember the Boche is as clever as you, and sometimes cleverer.” “Ah, but he wants me to shoot, sir, and I won’t,” came the cheery answer. “What about smashing up his old dummy?” I reminded him. His face fell. He had forgotten his old un-sniper-like self already. “Never mind,” said I. “Now when Thomas and Everton come up here, mind you tell them all about the dummy; and tell Thomas from me that the Boche doesn’t spend his time dummy-wagging for nothing. Probably it was an R.E. sergeant.” II “Swis-s-sh--báng. Swis-s-sh--báng.” “That settles it,” said I, as I scrambled hastily down into the trench, preceded by the sniper I had with me that day as orderly. I more or less pushed him along for ten yards--then halted; we faced each other both very much out of breath and “blowy.” The whole place was reeking with the smell of powder, and the air full of sand-bag fluff. “That settles it,” I repeated: “I always thought that was a rotten post; and I object to being whizz-banged. ‘A sniper’s job is to see and not be seen.’ Isn’t that right, Morris?” “Yes, sir,” replied Morris, adding with a sad lack of humour “They must have seen us, sir!” “Exactly: they did. And they weren’t very far off hitting one of us into the bargain. As I say, that settles it. We’ll leave that post for ever and ever; and to-night we’ll build a new one that they _won’t_ see.” At ten o’clock that night we were well at work. Just on the one hundred metre contour line there was a small quarry, at the west end of which had been the too conspicuous post where the Boche had spotted us. Every loophole must by its very nature be “spottable”; but when the natural ground is so little disturbed that it looks exactly the same as it did before the post was made, then indeed this “spottability” is so much reduced that it verges on invisibility. So, leaving the old post exactly as before, we were building a new one about twenty yards to the west of it.