"A day's pay," was the reply.
"Take me on, too, will you?" said another hero.
"Yes. Same terms, eh? Good enough."
"Say Bill," he called to his pal, "pay up from my cash if I 'go West.'"
"Shut up, fathead; we have to kill Huns, 'strafe' them."
I turned away to speak to an officer as to the prospects.
"Very good," he said. "I hope they don't plaster our trenches before all the men get out. They are as keen as mustard. Never known them so bright. Look at them now; all smoking."
Our guns were still pounding heavily, and the din and concussion was awful. To hear oneself speak it was absolutely necessary to shout.
"You are in a pretty rocky position," some one said to me. "Fritz will be sure to plaster this front pretty well as soon as our men 'get over.'"
"Can't help it," I said; "my machine must have a clear view. I must take the risk. How's the time going?"