"Thank goodness!" ejaculated Ralph, but to satisfy himself he approached the landship under his command. Not even the canvas covering was injured, although two Tanks in the vicinity had had their wrappings torn off by the blast of the exploding bomb. "The fellow evidently knows where the Tanks are," observed Danvers. "Deucedly funny how these Huns find out things behind our lines, and yet not a single enemy airman has ventured over in daylight for the last week. Eh, what's that?" A Tommy, hurrying past, had shouted some information to a pal. Halting, he repeated the news to the subaltern, speaking with a grim relish. "'E dropped two bombs, sir, smack into No. 9 Advance Cage, sir. Never seen such a blessed mess in all me life. I'll allow there are a couple o' hundred prisoners snuffed out. Anyway, they've got something to be thankful for. Their carcases won't be used for pigs' food." "That knocks your information theory on the head," observed Ralph. "The airman evidently trusted to luck and it played a shabby trick on the prisoners." "Not at all," said Danvers stoutly. "He was trying for the Tanks. The fact that a cage was within five hundred yards of them didn't trouble him at all. Cannon fodder, you see; once these Huns are prisoners they cease to count in the estimation of the German High Command. That's why it is not advisable to commit reprisals upon prisoners. Such a step wouldn't affect the Huns in the slightest. It's a safe card to bombard their 'open' towns by way of reprisals. That makes them squeal." "Let's be getting back," suggested Ralph, stifling a yawn. "Wish I could," rejoined his companion, consulting the luminous dial of his watch. "Unfortunately I'm down for duty at one-thirty." "What's up, then?" enquired Setley. "Over there," replied Danvers, pointing towards the front trenches. "They've had a squad from a Labour Battalion hard at it, digging a path for my bus. I was warned to be there at the time I mentioned. Wanted to hang on all the while, but there was that strafed official enquiry." "I'll go with you," suggested Ralph. "You're dog tired," objected his chum. "Not at all," protested Setley. "I'll go. It'll give me an appetite for breakfast, don't you see. I heard that there was to be a variation from the almost everlasting bully beef. There's bacon, Danvers, actually bacon." "Good!" exclaimed the subaltern. "Let's hope it won't be like the last I tasted. The stuff must have chummed up with the dead end of a poison gas shell. Ugh! It put me off entirely." "Know the way?" asked Ralph. "Rather," was the confident reply. "And I guess we won't be lonely. There's plenty of life along the path--and death, too," he added gravely. "We'll follow the track of the Tank."