Both lay still, and eventually analysed the many sounds. Some men were coughing, others appeared to be singing, while here and there "All’s well" rang out in German. During this wait for the light of dawn the company was surprised by the tramp of a small patrol. On they came straight towards Coronet’s men. It was an anxious moment for all. To fire would have been madness, revealing the whole plan. The captain held his breath, uncertain how to act. It was one of those awkward incidents for which no remedy can be found in infantry training, new or revised. Captain Coronet could handle a division in a war game and win many a brilliant battle on regimental staff rides, but this situation was beyond him, and like a simple British gentleman he whipped out his sword. "Na, sir, no’ that," whispered Tamson. The flush which suffused Coronet’s cheek could not be seen in the dark. Spud Tamson had presumed to override the officer class. For a second the captain almost lost his temper. Another second’s reflection, however, told him that this sergeant from the slums was right. "Let them come right up, sir, then grab their legs, drap them, and choke them." "Very sound—tell the men what’s on," commanded the captain, well pleased to have found a solution to the problem. A few more minutes brought three figures within view of the attackers’ eyes. They tramped and stumbled forward right into the waiting men. The captain, Tamson, and Sergeant Killem grabbed the legs of the Germans, and with a jerk heaved the surprised men to the ground. Only one shout was heard, for, like a flash, strong hands pounced on to their throats. A spluttering and low choking broke the stillness of the night. "Don’t kill them—tie them up," whispered the commander. Some mufflers were quickly produced, and with the aid of rifle-slings, rope, and spare equipment straps, the German patrol was bound and gagged. "I wonder if they heard that beggar shout?" whispered the captain. "Na, sir. Ye wid hae soon heard the bullets if they had." "I’m glad—it’s getting light," said the captain, looking up to the sky. "Ay, sir,—yonder’s the gun pits," said Tamson, pointing to a redoubt about two hundred and fifty yards away. "Pretty tough job, Tamson," mused the captain, studying closely the flanking trenches and some objectionable barbed wire. "The barbed wire’s no’ very high, sir." "High enough for trouble." "If they tak’ aff their coats an’ fling them owre the wire it’ll no hurt them sae much." "Good idea,—tell them to carry their coats in their hands, and get ready." Tamson turned and whispered the order. In a few minutes the whole company was eager for the fray. "Prepare to charge," whispered the captain, putting his monocle into his eye. Leaving his sword on the ground he picked up one of the German rifles and jumped to his feet. The company followed suit, and with a thundering cheer charged forward towards the German lines.