He shook a cautious little head and became silent. The sun sank down the sky, and its sight slid along the barrels of the rifles from hand-guard to muzzle whenever the weapons were moved. Flanagan crunched a biscuit with zealous teeth; Bubb traced furrows in the ground with his trigger finger, but all the time kept his eyes fixed on the front. "Our boys are makin' tea now," he said. "It's about four o'clock, I suppose ... that damned sun's in no 'urry neither. There!" he ejaculated suddenly. "One of our boys 'as put 'is 'ead over the trench! Wait." Both men heard it, a smothered shriek like the sound of a drowning puppy. "'E 'as got it in the 'ead," said Bubb in a fierce voice. "The bloody fool! Flan!" "What is it, Bubb?" "I saw smoke," said Bubb, speaking calmly. "Just look over. See a little holler near the German lines? Yes? Well, there's a dead man there wiv 'is knees curled up. Got im? That's the place. I saw a puff of smoke and somefing moved. Look, Flan, see somefing shining?" "I see it," said Flanagan. "The sun's catchin' the sniper's 'ipe." Both the youngsters drew their weapons taut to their shoulders and adjusted their sights. "Four-fifty?" inquired Bubb, adjusting his sight to four hundred and fifty yards. "A little lower, a little lower," said Flanagan. "Make it four and you'll not be far out.... It'll be hard to judge ... if we hit the dead man. He'll not raise a dust. You aim first, Bubb." Bubb's left cheek twitched, and his eye took in the objective. He pulled the trigger. A spurt of dust flew into air a little to the rear of the dead man. "Aim low, and we'll get him next time," said Flanagan. Both rifles spoke together. A figure detached itself from the limp lump which lay in the hollow near the enemy's lines, rose to a standing position, and beat the air with agitated arms. Thus for a moment, then the Thing collapsed in an abject heap on the ground. "That's all," said Bubb. "The boys in the trench are firin' now. They'll finish 'im off if 'e's not done in already." The rifles cracked spitefully in the trench which rimmed the base of the slag-heap, the sun sank lower and the shadows lengthened. The two youngsters broke biscuits, gnawed vigorously and waited for the darkness to fall. CHAPTER XIII THE TRENCHES All the night the frogs go chuckle; all the day the birds are singing, In the pond beside the meadow; by the roadway poplar-lined; In the field between the trenches are a million blossoms springing 'Twixt the grass of silver bayonets where the lines of battle wind; Where man has manned the trenches for the maiming of his kind. (_From "Soldier Songs."_)