“Supposed!”
“Yes.”
“Expect me to send a map to the general and label it ‘Supposed?...’ That map’s pretty, all right, but it hain’t worth a hoot in Hoboken. Call him up and ask him what the blazes—”
Kendall laughed, and was surprised to discover that he could laugh, that anything would seem humor in this place with death showering down on all sides.
Now the attentions of the enemy seemed to take on the aspect of a serious effort, for the officers of experience began to gather and to hold consultations and to listen with marked interest.
“Gas!” somebody said. “Listen! Hear it?”
Kendall listened, but could not distinguish the bursting of the gas-shell, so easily to be identified by the practised ear.
“Gas-masks at alerte,” was the order.
The telephone rang. “Shrapnel and gas here,” said an observer some place out in the darkness.
“Got your mask on?” demanded Jimmy.