"Turn him right side up!"
The young executioner obeyed, but still held a firm grip on the unfortunate lad's collar.
"Now, then, how many of you are there in your trenches?"
"Enough to make jelly out of your men if there are many like you!" shrieked the captive, struggling to escape.
"Take him behind the lines, don't be rough with him. Respect is due all prisoners," ordered the General, whose eye had caught a glimpse of his army being menaced by the blond headed enemy.
"Look out, boys! Down with your heads! They're sending over some 'coal scuttles.' Dig in I say and keep a sharp look out! What's the matter back there?"
"It's little Michaud. He's wounded!"
"Don't cry, Michaud, go out by the connecting trench to the dressing station. It's not far."
The hail of "coal scuttles" having subsided, the General mounted to his observation post.
"Hey! Michel! Gaston! hey there, the artillery!" he yelled. "Get in at them quick. Go to it, I say. Don't you see they're going to attack! What's artillery for, anyway?"