The captain was lucid, and Dennis quick of intelligence, and in less than five minutes from entering the room he was turning his cycle round and darting off on his new mission. CHAPTER VI A Terrible Adventure at Dawn The Divisional Headquarters had been fixed at a spot where several roads branched off like the sticks of a fan, and the one Dennis followed was a typical French chaussee, paved down the centre and bordered on either side by tall trees. It had been a good deal cut up by the passage of distribution columns, but its surface was fairly free from shell holes, and he covered the distance without much difficulty, a slight drizzle blowing in his face as he hung low over the handle-bars with his eyes fixed on the acetylene beam in front of him. A man riding in the opposite direction whizzed past with a shout of, "Cheer-oh!" and he was not challenged until he drew near the brigade. "Thought there was something wrong with the wire," said the C.O. "I've been trying to get through for the last half-hour." "A wiring party went out just before I left, sir, to look for the damage," said Dennis. "Very well, take this back to the general--that will tell him all he wants to know," and Dennis retraced his way, rather enjoying the ride, although it had not proved particularly exciting so far. But the excitement was to come. Overhead the scream and whistle of our shells never ceased, but he was growing used to the thunder of the bombardment, until there was an explosion not far ahead in the centre of the road, and he slowed down with a glance over his shoulder. "That's the enemy replying," he murmured, as another shell fell in the dark fields on the left, and another and another, so quickly that he lost count of them. "Bit of a danger zone, this," he thought. "The sooner I'm through it the better," but as his thumb sought a lever there was a blinding flash very close to him, and following on the heels of the explosion he felt his machine quiver and the front tyre burst with a report like a rifle shot. "By Jingo! I'm done," he cried, jumping off as his head-lamp went out. "That's shrapnel. Now what's to be done? The tyre's in ribbons!" As he looked ahead his heart gave a bound as he saw a motor-car pull up some forty yards away and the driver spring out on to the road. Dennis left the damaged cycle where it was and ran forward. "I say, I'm in no end of a hat, chauffeur. Can you give me a hand?" he cried. The man stared at him with a white face, apparently dazed, and replied in a shaky voice: "Can you give _me_ a hand, sir? Look at this!" and unshipping one of his lamps he turned the light on to the car. Sitting rigidly erect was the body of a staff officer, decapitated. "Great heavens!" exclaimed Dennis, bending over with eyes of horror as he recognised the officer who less than half an hour before had shown him his own route at Divisional Headquarters. "It's Captain Thompson!"