The men set to work in the dug-out and blackened their faces, procured their bombs and branches, and got into raiding order. In ten minutes' time they were out on the open, thirty men making towards the German trenches. Flanagan lit a cigarette, put his hands in his trousers pockets and leant his back against the wall of the dug-out. Bubb looked at him. "Yer bloomin' old phizz is sooty enough, Flan," he said; "but yer teeth don't arf look white; they'll be seen miles away." "I suppose I should black them," said Flanagan. "It would be for my own good. Natural selection has not fashioned me for this war environment. Raiding by night is a job for chimney sweeps. They could walk over to the German trenches and they would not be seen in the darkness. Darwin would be very interested in these raids. If he saw one he would write a treatise on Artificial Selection and call it The Survival of the Fittest Disguised. We are disguised; we're one with the night. We accommodate ourselves to our environment like the fox that changes its coat to white when the snow comes." "These 'ere branches ain't arf a barney," said Bubb, who understood only a little of what Flanagan was saying. "Birnam Wood! Copied from Macbeth," said Flanagan with an air of scorn. "There's nothing new in the world. There were trenches and dug-outs at the siege of Sebastopol." Sergeant Snogger came in at that moment, his body festooned with bombs, his face the colour of ebony. He looked at his men. "Wot are yer waitin' for?" he asked. "Gawd, ye are slummicky. Come on, we've got to get across to-night. To-morrow won't do for this 'ere job." The party went out, crossed the parapet into No Man's Land and advanced in open order, six yards' interval between each man and his neighbour. Reynolds near the centre of the line, had Flanagan on his right, Bowdy Benners on his left, whilst the sergeant, who led the party, moved warily along, a few yards in advance. From time to time he halted and waited for those who followed to come abreast and issued orders which were passed from the centre to the flanks in whispers. He used the words "damned unlucky" whenever he spoke. "Spread out from the centre," he cautioned. "The whole party's bunchin' up. If the henemy flings some dirt across, yer'll be damned unlucky." Again he gave the order "Close in in the centre! You're losing touch. Some of yer'll be goin' in to the German trench all alone; then yer'll be damned unlucky." Whenever a star-shell rose in air, the raiders flung themselves flat to the ground and waited for the flare to die out. As they went down, they placed the branches over their heads and held them there until the order to advance was given. Lying thus, they were immune from discovery, for an enemy patrol ten yards away would mistake the prone bundles under their covering of branches for derelict bushes which the fury of incessant shell fire had spared.