“He must be a splendid shot,” said he. “He puts it through the loophole in the post in Bay 16, two shots in three—at least, so Carpenter, of the Blankshires, was telling me. Said he supposed he’d got one of those big Zeiss telescopic sights which magnify four times. Shooting with ’em must be as easy as falling off a log.”
“Yes, sir,” said Red.
It was a full hour before dawn that the chill woke Red in his dug-out. His thoughts switched at once on to the subject of Wilibald. The man had taken over twenty British lives. He pictured him waiting at his loophole, his bearded cheek pressed to the stock of his rifle. A fine shot, no doubt—Carpenter had said that he put two shots out of three into the loophole of Bay 16 sniping-post.... Good shooting. ... Dashed good. It was cold, though! The first cold morning. By Jove!——
Red had an idea. He rose and dressed hastily, his dressing consisting of little but pulling on his boots and tunic. He took his telescope and made his way along the dark trench until he came to Bay 16. A figure was leaning against the side of the post. Red realized that it was Corporal Hogg, a N.C.O. of sound sense.
“Corporal!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Anyone in the Post?”
“No, sir. You told me not to have it manned at night, lest the flash should give it away.”
“Quite right. Now listen. I want the loophole shut. As soon as it is light enough to shoot—at 5.15 say—I want you to open it cautiously. Open it from the side, in case Wilibald—got that?”
“Yes, sir.”