"One Hun the less," grinned Nobby, turning round, "and he won't be the only Fritz as'll 'go west' in this 'ere skirmish. Larry boy, d'yer want our commanding officer to be shot down out of hand, just because he must put himself up where there's no cover. I'm only a humble private, you're a full-blown sergeant, why don't yer see to the chum that's commanding us?"
It wasn't the first occasion, perhaps, when the good-natured Larry had shown unusual energy and decision. Not that he was incapable of either or both those virtues, but it was typical of Larry that as a general rule he lounged and drawled and lisped, and really made pretence that he was a person of no great consequence and of no great ability in any way. Yet friends knew that he was stanch, that danger did not daunt him, that fear was almost foreign to the nature of this diminutive, delicate-looking, nonchalant, and unconcerned American. He turned swiftly in the narrow angle where he lay near Nobby, and cast a threatening glance at Bill.
"Hi! Here, you, young Bill, you come right out of that!" he shouted. His face reddened with emotion as he gave the order. "You ain't got no call to stand up there like a darned fool, askin' the Hun to shoot you! Look at that? What did I tell you? Chips of mortar all round you! They've got a machine-gun going! Come down! d'yer hear?"
Jim, on the far side of the ruin, watching the shell-seamed earth between the factory and the main road, turned round too, lay flat on his back for a moment under the shelter of the wall, and shook a fist at Bill. Till then he had not noticed the perilous position in which the young fellow had placed himself, but now he saw it clearly, and, as showing what he thought of Bill, he too became heated, and that, let us add, was something foreign to Jim's calm, contented nature.
"Yep," he roared. "You come right down! What d'yer want for to get right up there, a-starin' round, when there's heaps of ruins down here to cover anyone? Ef yer don't move quick I'll be up after yer!"
Bill surveyed the two with something approaching curt disdain. He peered over the top of the masonry which protected his head, and turned slowly until he had made a complete circle; then of a sudden he pointed.
"Boys," he called out, "the officer that's commanding them is yonder on the way to the road, and he's got a machine-gun mounted. They are loading fast, so as to keep our attention while the rest of the men are collecting right opposite and are making ready just now to rush us. You'll——"
The rattle of the machine-gun in question drowned his next words, and as the splutter died down, and the chips of mortar and bricks and stone dropped and flew about Bill's figure, it was Jim's voice and that of Larry that again were heard.
"You ain't heard us, Bill," Jim shouted. "Come down, won't yer! Yer askin' to get killed."
"I'll Fritz yer, yep!" Larry called, rising from the spot in which he lay, and jamming his tin hat closely down. "If yer don't come yerself I'll be up there to make yer."