Spudhole went out, crawled up on the firestep and relieved the sentry. Leaning both arms on the parapet, he looked over No Man's Land towards the German trenches. The levels in front, a shell-scarred spread of ground set off in its ghastly array of barbed wire entanglements, was covered with snow. Here Nature had only one mood, a mood of sulky menace which overawed and subdued the tempers of the onlookers. The sky was coldly clear and a million stars showed in its broad expanse. But Bubb's circle of horizon was very small, objects quite near at hand stood out weirdly silhouetted with a blurred, though definite outline. The trenches were wrapped in ghostly solitude, the brazier aflare in the dug-out which Bubb had just left added no relieving tint to the blind helplessness of the night. The sick boy stood back from the parapet and clapped his hands together in an endeavour to warm himself. "Gawd, it's cold 'ere," he muttered. "I wish I was in the dug-out 'avin' a kip. 'Twould be so much better than standin' out 'ere. But I wouldn't 'ave it, naw, not at any price. I wouldn't shove my job on to any bloke. Bowdy would do sentry-go for me, good old Bowdy, and so would old Flan if 'e warn't down at the dump, but why should they? I wouldn't mind lettin' them do it if it was out o' the trenches." "How are you getting on, Spud?" asked a voice from the trench. "Feeling the cold?" The boy looked down at Captain Thorley. The captain and he were great friends. "Cold," said Spud, through chattering teeth. "It's not warm 'ere, is it, sir? I feel as cold as if I was 'andcuffed to a ghost." "I hear that you're not feeling well," said the captain. "I'm orlright, sir. Was a bit dicky a minute back, but the cold air 'asn't 'arf bucked me up." "Well, you know that Bowdy will do your job for you if you're feeling queer," said Thorley. "I know that, sir, but I'm orlright," said Bubb. "Besides, I wouldn't rob a man of 'is sleep." Bubb finished his hour, but when his next turn as sentry came round he was unable to perform his duty. He looked helplessly at his mate. "Bowdy," he said, in a low, apologetic voice. "I've no guts for anuvver hour's sentry-go. I'm washed out. I will go down to the M.O. not to-morrow mornin' but now. If I stay 'ere any longer, I'll 'ave to be carried out o't. But didn't I stick it to the last, Bowdy?" "Of course, you did. I'm damned if I'd stick it so long." "Clear out of it at once, Spudhole," said Billy Hurd. "Ye're like a ghost, somethin' like what a cat would take in on a wet day." "Ye think I'm sick enough to leave 'ere then?" asked Bubb. "I don't want any o' the fellers to say, arter I go, that I was swingin' the lead." "If ye stop 'ere any longer, they'll say that ye're stayin' here, hopin' that ye'll be so bad when ye leave that ye'll never be sent back again." "Then I'm off out't," said Bubb, decision in his voice. "I'll try and be back as soon as I can."