"For this purpose," said the colonel, "we have called for a hundred volunteers from the African companies. They will set out to-night and deliver the assault to-morrow morning. Our business will be to support them at once and, once the attack has succeeded, to repel the counter-attacks, which are sure to be extremely violent because of the importance of the position. You all of you know the position, gentlemen. It is separated from us by the marshes which our African volunteers will enter to-night . . . up to their waists, one might say. But to the right of the marshes, alongside of the canal, runs a tow-path by which we will be able to come to the rescue. This tow-path has been swept by the guns on both sides and is free for a great part. Still, half a mile before the ferryman's house there is an old lighthouse which was occupied by the Germans until lately and which we have just destroyed with our gun-fire. Have they evacuated it entirely? Is there a danger of encountering an advance post there? It would be a good thing if we could find out; and I thought of you, Delroze." "Thank you, sir." "It's not a dangerous job, but it's a delicate one; and it will have to make certain. I want you to start to-night. If the old lighthouse is occupied, come back. If not, send for a dozen reliable men and hide them carefully until we come up. It will make an excellent base." "Very well, sir." Paul at once made his arrangements, called together his little band of Parisians and volunteers who, with the reservist and Laschen the Belgian, formed his usual command, warned them that he would probably want them in the course of the night and, at nine o'clock in the evening, set out, accompanied by Bernard d'Andeville. The fire from the enemy's guns kept them for a long time on the bank of the canal, behind a huge, uprooted willow-trunk. Then an impenetrable darkness gathered round them, so much so that they could not even distinguish the water of the canal. They crept rather than walked along, for fear of unexpected flashes of light. A slight breeze was blowing across the muddy fields and over the marshes, which quivered with the whispering of the reeds. "It's pretty dreary here," muttered Bernard. "Hold your tongue." "As you please, lieutenant." Guns kept booming at intervals for no reason, like dogs barking to make a noise amid the deep, nervous silence; and other guns at once barked back furiously, as if to make a noise in their turn and to prove that they were not asleep. And once more peace reigned. Nothing stirred in space. It was as though the very grass of the marshes had ceased to wave. And yet Bernard and Paul seemed to perceive the slow progress of the African volunteers who had set out at the same time as themselves, their long halts in the middle of the icy waters, their stubborn efforts. "Drearier and drearier," sighed Bernard. "You're very impressionable to-night," said Paul.