"That is my first miss to-day," came the words in German. "This wind has given me a bloodshot eye, and I am shivering. Will you go back and bring me a couple of bottles of wine, Joachim?" "With pleasure, Kamerad," said another voice, and the light was blotted out as a figure rose from the ground where he had been sitting on his heels. Dennis made out the outline of the sniper stretched at full length on a blanket, his rifle in front of him on a wooden stand, but it was too far to get back unseen, for the man was slouching heavily towards him, and in another moment discovery would be inevitable. Dennis raised his right arm and fired his last cartridge, and the messenger fell forward, dead as a herring. With a startled shout of surprise the sniper faced about, but Dennis was upon him, and, locked in a terrible embrace, the pair fell with a crash on to the chalky floor. All fatigue seemed to vanish from the boy's limbs as he and his opponent rolled over and over, and he strained every nerve in a struggle which he knew could have only one end. For a whole minute the narrow passage was filled with the sound as of a terrific dog fight, for Dennis had managed to get his head well fixed under the sniper's jaw, effectually preventing any words leaving his lips. Instead there came a stream of weird snarls and hisses and spluttering coughs, accompanied by the savage kicking of heavy boots against the walls of the gallery. Their arms were round each other, and they struck out with their knees, but the thin muscular frame proved more than a match for the stouter man, and at last, pinning him down in a corner, where he panted quite out of breath, Dennis withdrew his head, and they looked into each other's faces by the light that filtered in again through a crevice at the end of the tunnel. "You'd better surrender without any more fuss," said Dennis. "Perhaps you don't know that we've taken your first line trench. Otherwise I shouldn't be here." "You are a liar," was the polite reply. "All Englishmen are liars." "Have it your own way," said Dennis with a superior smile, as he began to get his own breathing under control. "Judging from your official statements, and your Bethmann-Hollweg, Germany hasn't much reputation for truth-telling! So you are the beast we've been trying to locate, are you?" The man had a red moustache, the ends of which lifted as he smiled. "Yes, I am the beast; the 'great blonde beast' your papers are so fond of talking about," he said ironically. "I've been here for a month, and I have shot on an average twenty of your fools every day." "Well, you'll shoot no more," said Dennis grimly. "That we shall see," retorted the man, suddenly stiffening his spine and almost succeeding in reaching a sitting position.