At this point, Spudhole was seized with a happy thought. A newspaper had fallen on the fire and was bursting into flame. Spudhole, seizing the lighted paper, held it close to his face and kept the wasps away for a moment. "But wot is the good of it," he grumbled as the flames died down. "I'm getting stung be'ind and burned in front. I'm off!" and, throwing the paper down, he fled. Struggling, shoving and waving their arms about, the men hustled along the narrow alley. Two soldiers scrambled up over the top out into the open, but, being seen by the enemy, a brisk rifle fire was opened on them and they fled back into their wasp-infested shelter again. At this point Sergeant Snogger was heard. Seeing two men rushing out into the open field waving their arms over their heads, he stared at them open-mouthed and rubbed his eyes with both hands. A hidden sniper had been potting at the parapet for days!... The action was not in keeping with trench discipline; in fact if the men did not return immediately they'd "be damned unlucky!" "Back! Ye fools, come back!" he yelled. "Wot the blazes--was that!" The wasp swept past his face like a spent bullet, swung back again and stung him on the forehead. A second caught him on the neck, a third on the arm. He turned and ran. For Flanagan, he was unlucky enough to have his puttees off when the stampede started, and in a few moments a wasp had got up the leg of his trousers. It stung him half-a-dozen times before he squashed it to pulp.... What happened when the Irish rushed into a Highland regiment on the right must be left to the reader's imagination. Never before had the Gael been so conscious of the nakedness of his knees. He gave vent to his wrath in vehement words and it was found difficult to ascertain whether his anger was directed against the wasps or the men who were responsible for their coming. Was it at the hundredth traverse or the thousandth that the effectives of the besetting force lost an appreciable amount of intensity? That was a matter for conjecture, but this alone is known. A jar of marmalade which got overthrown in a bay enticed the insects, and many stopped to feast on the disbanded treasure. But a few followed with unabated ardour; these were counter-attacked and destroyed, and afterwards the soldiers bombed the "Bay of the Broken Jar" with a certain amount of success. The Irish strode back defiant and alert, ready for anything. But the wasps gave no further trouble; here and there one or two were seen poised in air over a line of sandbags, but these fled at the approach of the men. The dug-out in which they had originally entrenched was left in complete seclusion for the rest of the day, and at night Bowdy and his two mates approached the place in slow, methodical order. They found the wasps' nest in a corner of the wall and poured two mess-tins of boiling water on it. A third mess-tin remained but it was not needed.