But Tommy had planted his empty barrel fairly in the middle of the road and was settling himself snugly at full length behind it, his legs spread wide and left shoulder well advanced after the approved fashion of his musketry instructor. ‘They’re goin’ south,’ he called back. ‘An’ we come over ’ere to stop ’em going south. So we’ll just ’ave to stop ’em.’ And he commenced to lay cartridges in a convenient little pile at his elbow and push a clip into his rifle magazine. Even then the Canadian hesitated. The whole thing was so utterly mad, such a senseless throwing away of their three lives that he was still inclined to clear out and away. But that prone figure in the road held him. He felt, as he puts it himself, that he couldn’t decently leave the beggar there and run away. And a call from outside settled the matter by the calm assurance it held that the two of them were going to stand by and see the game through. ‘You two ’ad better be _jildi_.[3] I can see the dust risin’ just round the corner.’ The Canadian flung a last hurried sentence to the piou-piou, ran out and across the road and dropped into the ditch in line with the barrel. The Frenchman looked round at the women and old men, shrugged his shoulders and laughed shortly. ‘These mad English,’ he said hopelessly, ‘but, name of a name, what can a Frenchman do but die along with them?’ and he too ran out and took his place in the nearer ditch in line with the others. Tommy looked over his shoulder at him and nodded encouragingly. ‘Good man, Froggy,’ he said loudly, and then turning to the Canadian and lowering his voice to a confidential undertone, ‘I’m glad to see Froggy roll up, for the credit of ’is reg’ment’s sake—whatever ’is reg’ment may be. ’E was so long, I was beginnin’ to think ’e was funkin’ it.’ The Canadian admits to a queer relief that he himself had not ‘funked it,’ but he had little time to think about it. A thin dust rose slowly from the road at the distant bend, and ‘’Ere they come,’ said Tommy. ‘Don’t begin shootin’ till I do. We want to get into the brown of ’em before we start, an’ we haven’t cartridges enough to keep goin’ long. I think about four ’undred should be near enough the range, but I’ll try a sightin’ shot first at that an’ you’ll see where it lands.’ For long interminably dragging minutes the three lay there, and then suddenly, in a bang that made him jump, the Canadian heard the soldier’s first shot. ‘Just short,’ said Tommy coolly. ‘Better put your sights four fifty an’ take a fine sight. Come on, let ’em ’ave it.’