"Yes, sir," replied Ginger. "It was 'im wot told me where you was. 'Is Tank was just off along the Hoppy Road, goin' like a young racehorse." It was in the direction of the fortified village of Oppy that Ralph was making. At this point the massing of German infantry had been reported by aerial scouts. By road and rail reserves had been rushed up from other sections of the Hindenburg Line. The Tanks were to cut the enemy's communications, if possible, and hinder the concentration of Germans for the counter-attack. The shell-pitted ground over which Setley's Tank nosed her way was no longer under fire. The enormous craters had been torn up by the bombardment of the British heavies. The guns were now being pushed forward, and although the German artillery was still putting up a strong barrage the projectiles were falling between the captured Von der Golz Redoubt and Néancourt village. Every foot of the way was strewn with evidences of the devastating effect of the pounding of the shells. Numerous corpses, half-buried limbers, dismounted field-guns, and a medley of shattered transport waggons testified to the terrible gruelling the Huns had received behind their trenches. Here and there were heaps of brickwork mingled with still smouldering woodwork--all that was left of a dozen villages. Hardly a tree was left standing. The few that were had been stripped of branches and reared their scorched and seared trunks like grim gallows trees silhouetted against the black and yellow waste of smoke. Already British cavalry were patrolling considerably beyond the ground held by the infantry. The men, filled with wild enthusiasm at being able to be in the saddle and after their foes, were making short work of all small detachments of Germans who had got out of touch with the main body. For three miles Setley's Tank pursued her way before losing sight of the cavalry. Occasionally a Hun sniper would send a bullet pinging harmlessly against her steel sides, but the crew loftily ignored the useless compliment. With bigger game in view, the individual German marksman could be simply left alone. As the Tank approached a ruined wall a khaki-clad figure appeared as from the earth and began running towards the oncoming machine, waving his hands in a manner that clearly indicated his wish for the landship to stop. "He's an officer, sir," reported Sergeant Alderhame. "Wonder what he's doing so far ahead? Prisoner, perhaps, who has managed to give the Huns the slip." Giving orders for the motors to be switched off, Ralph brought the Tank to a dead stop, and unbolting the armoured door awaited the officer's approach. Caution urged him not to throw the door wide open, in case there were snipers about, but without drawing the fire of a single rifle the stranger gained the Tank and at Ralph's invitation nimbly hopped in.