"The ground's hard, sir; it's all chalk here."
"Don't be a fool! Dig! I tell you we may be discovered any minute. If we get shelled you'll be glad enough of a hole to lie in."
Passing along the line, I overheard two men talking in an undertone:
"How do you like it, Timmy?"
"Fed to the teeth. It's all very well for the skipper to say: 'Dig like hell!'—Seems quiet enough here."
"Heard about Bill? Went balmy just after we started. He began by laughing and crying; he was as mad as a hatter. He nearly put the wind up us in the rear. The skipper sent him back with a couple of stretcher-bearers."
"Poor old Bill, hard luck. Thought he couldn't stand much. Got any water?"
"Not a drop; I'm as dry as a brick."
"Shut up; there's the skipper standing there."
The conversation stopped; but the latter part worried me not a little. Water-bottle empty, good Lord! and no more water for forty-eight hours.