For fully ten minutes both men swayed unsteadily as Benners disputed every inch of the ground on the way towards the entanglement. The sniper was irresistible, and step by step he urged his man nearer and nearer to the horrible barbs. Bowdy now knew what the man's intentions were and he summoned up all his strength. The blood from a gashed eyebrow was blinding him, but instinctively he did his utmost to press forward in an opposite way to that by which the sniper was taking him. Clutching and straining, he resisted gamely until suddenly he felt himself lifted clean from the ground and resting on the German's shoulders. There was a hurried rush towards the wires, the sniper holding on with all his strength and Bowdy struggling to break free. One of his hands stretched over the German's shoulders and Bowdy closed his fist and began to thump the man on the back. With a yell of rage, the sniper bent down, then straightened his back quickly and flung Bowdy from him. But he had miscalculated his throw and Bowdy, landing on his feet, had escaped from the danger that threatened him. But only for a moment. His man was upon him again and the Englishman was flung with a crash into the barbed contraption of war. Bowdy was up in a flash; his clothes torn and his body aching, and he was upon the sniper striking out fiercely for his stomach, landing four lightning blows. His opponent went down, falling like a log, and lay still. Benners, maimed, sore and bleeding, fixed an imperturbable stare on a rising starshell and the stare slowly resolved itself into a weary smile. For fully two minutes he stood thus, silent, with one eye (the other had been bunged up) fixed on the scene in front, the barbed wire entanglements, and the enemy's trench which showed clearly, barely eighty yards away. "God, it was a fight!" he muttered. "A damned hard fight. I suppose I must have a look around for my bayonet now. And a professional wrestler too." At that moment half a dozen dark forms took shape on Bowdy's right. An enemy patrol probably! Bowdy lay down quietly, rubbed his eyes and listened. Nothing could be seen now and nothing could be heard save the deep breathing of the sniper. "I hope he doesn't come to and kick up a row," said Bowdy in a whisper. "I can't fight a dozen with my fists; one was enough." Something rustled on the ground near him and a head appeared rising over the dark grass. Then a second head came into view and a third. The men were crawling towards Bowdy and were now very near. Then a voice spoke in a low whisper. "Blimey!" it said; "there's nuffink 'ere. I think there's the German wires." "That you, Spudhole?" Benners whispered. "Oo's that?" came the answer. "You, Bowdy?" "That's right," said Benners, getting to his feet. "Don't make a noise. Where are you coming to?" "We're looking for your body," said Spudhole, standing upright. "Gawd! We thought ye wor dead. Wot 'ave ye been doin'?"