As my eyes sought the sun, a bright flash in front of me, in my very line of sight, almost blinded me. A deafening explosion and the whirr of scores of shrapnel bullets was followed by another flash. Crash! The second shell seemed nearer than the first. The pluck! pluck! pluck! flop! of bits of projectile striking in the soft mud all about me came from every side. Little spurts of mud and water were thrown up close around me. I imagined I could feel the breath of passing shrapnel bullets. A bit of stick hit me in the face, and a gob of black mud landed squarely over my mouth. So many mud-spurts threw up in front of me, on my right, and on my left, it seemed to me impossible I had escaped being hit. I must have been in the very vortex of the shell's storm-centre. Turning, thanking God I had so miraculously escaped when death had seemed so near, I dashed off as fast as I could run, heading blindly for the general direction of the Menin Road. Fear lent wings to my feet as I realised I had, in my interest in my photography, advanced into plain sight of the line of heights of which General de Lisle had warned me. I had not run a dozen steps when I thought of my heavy load, in pockets and hands, of shell heads. I tossed them away as I leaped on, tempted for a moment to hurl my camera after them. Bang! Crash! Behind me came a second pair of shells, whose coming I had dreaded every second. To my delight, but one or two bullets came my way. "I am gaining," I thought. Bang! bang! another two burst overhead, throwing their deadly contents beyond me in the direction in which I was running. I ducked to the right and ran diagonally to the Hun line of fire. Panting, I struck a deep bog. In I went before I realised it lay in my path. In a twinkling I was in a pretty mess. My feet sank deep in the slime and ooze. It took great effort to raise them. Well over my knees in mud, I felt trapped, but struggled on. At last I trod on firmer bottom, and soon was racing away at much better speed. Crash! Bang! I could see over my shoulder that the last two arrivals had burst over the muck through which I had just floundered, throwing spurts of liquid mud high in the air. The Hun gunners were gradually increasing their range, though I was well out of sight of them. My breath came in great sobs, but I dared not slacken. Bang! Bang! Two fell behind me again, but not so near. That encouraged my flagging footsteps, and I jog-trotted on, until at last the Menin Road was before me. Reaching it, I laid down, utterly exhausted. The shells continued to burst nearer and nearer the road, and came in fours after the first half-dozen couples, twenty-four shrapnel having been fired in all. Two British gunners, attached to a siege battery near by, hurried past me as I lay recuperating. "Bad place to be, this," said one of them. "They shell this bit of road every day about this time. Those two holes were made yesterday"--pointing to two cavities not ten feet from me.