His impulse was to lift up a shout of thankfulness at the sight of another iron ladder, obviously leading into the yard below. To make quite certain that the way was clear he ran towards it, and stole cautiously down for a short distance, trying to penetrate the intense blackness in quest of any sign of Von Dussel. All at once his feet dropped into nothingness, for, unknown to him, an English shell had carried away the rest of the ladder a week before, and, clutching wildly at the last step, he clung there, dangling in space! To let go, even had he known the distance between him and the ground, was absolutely unthinkable with his brother helpless and unwarned within the building, and though the explosion of the mine might happen any moment, his one and only effort was to get back by sheer strength of arm and return to Bob's assistance. "If we've got to go out to-night we'll go out together," he muttered between his teeth, and he added something of a prayer to the resolve. The fragment of the ladder vibrated under his weight as he worked himself slowly and cautiously to one edge, and the sharpness of the jagged iron rungs hurt his hands terribly. "If I can only haul up high enough to get my knee on the first step it'll be all right," he thought, when something scrunched immediately underneath him, and he dangled motionless, as a brilliant star-shell burst directly overhead, making everything around as bright as day. * * * * * Caught in the open by the sudden fire of uncountable machine-guns, the 2/12th Battalion of the Royal Reedshires had gone down like grass before the scythe. Another fifty yards, and they would have reached the uncut wire in front of that ruined building with the broken chimney shaft. So close were they that the word was already given to divide and sweep round the flank of the obstacle when cruel Fate said no; and as he lay with three bullets through him, tears of rage and anger had dimmed the keen eyes of their C.O. as he groped for his whistle and blew the retire. They had made a fine rush by successive waves across the open, taking advantage of the tumbled ground to get close up to that seemingly deserted brewery which had shown no sign of occupation, and from which no shot had been fired. And then that thing had happened, and he blamed himself as he sent the brave remnant scurrying back to the trench they had captured, knowing that he should have rested content with his capture and not been greedy for more. He did not realise that he was badly wounded, and he did not care. It was his own fault, and the tears in his eyes were for those khaki heaps that lay to right and left of him. He even resisted three of the survivors who ran to his help. They only grinned when he threatened them with pains and penalties; and, picking him up, they had carried him in under a murderous rain of bullets.