"I hope so," responded Dennis, as the Australian Division sprang up and bolted forward to dig themselves in.
"Now, lads, if you don't mind giving me another lift," said Bob. "It's about time we were getting home. What do you say, Dennis?"
Dennis said nothing. He was holding his head in both hands; that last explosion had left him more than ever convinced that it would fall into two halves if he were not very careful.
And meanwhile, Von Dussel, with an evil grin, was making his way to the German headquarters to report to General Von Bingenhammer that an English shell had exploded the mine before the Anzac Division had reached the brewery.
"Ah, you Dashwoods, you!" he murmured, rolling the name round his tongue as though it were a sweetmeat, "I should like to go to sleep, for I am very tired, but I should not like to be sleeping as sound as you. Himmel! You must have lived a lifetime in that last half-hour on earth!"
Somewhere about the moment when the scoundrel was indulging in those pleasant reflections, Bob's bearers had reached the British parapet, and, helping the Captain over, they set him down for a moment with a grunt of relief.
"I have no words for you, boys," he said. "But your devotion shall not be forgotten."
"'Arf a mo, sir," interrupted Harry Hawke, with an expressive wink at Tiddler, and they had him up again between them in the twinkle of an eye.
"No, no," expostulated Bob Dashwood. "I shall do very well now."
"Yus, sir, but we shan't!" said Hawke, with a sheepish grin. "We must carry you a bit farther to save our skins"; and a light began to dawn on their officer.