"Any news?" I asked.
"No, sir," said he, "but I feel as if something is going to happen."
"Come," said I, with a laugh, "this is not the time for dreaming."
"No, sir, I'm not dreaming, but I feel something—something that I can't explain."
"Well, cheer up," I said. "Good night."
"Good night, sir!"
And as I wended my way along I could hear him softly whistling to himself the refrain of an old song.
At last I came upon the section opposite which our mine was going up in the morning, and cautiously looking over the parapet I surveyed the ground in front. There were several sandbags that required shifting. If they remained it would be necessary to place the camera higher above the top than was safe or wise. Carefully pulling myself up, I lay along the top of the parapet and pushed them aside. Several star-shells were fired whilst I was so engaged, and I dare not stir—I scarcely dared breathe—for fear the slightest movement would draw a stream of bullets in my direction.
Undoubtedly this was the only place from which to film the mine successfully. So marking the spot I slid down into the trench again, and retraced my steps to the dug-out. I found the officer I had previously seen enjoying a lovely, steaming tin of tea, and it wasn't many minutes before I was keeping him company. We sat chatting and smoking for a considerable time.
"Is everything ready?" I asked.