When the shell-fire had ceased Ribaut led his guests down to the front or fire trench. Lieutenant De Verne had not been with them since breakfast time in the morning.
"May I relieve one of your sentries, Captain, and take his post until there is something else for me to do?" Dick asked.
"Yes, certainly," agreed Ribaut. "I will send for the corporal, who will instruct you as the other sentries are instructed."
So Dick took the bayoneted rifle of a soldier who was much delighted at having a brief opportunity for sleep thus thrust upon him. Dick listened to the corporal's orders, then, for the next two hours stood gazing patiently out over No Man's Land. At the end of that time the sentries were changed and Dick stood down gladly enough, for his task had become somewhat dull and irksome.
Half an hour after being relieved Prescott heard a sentry challenging in low tones. Then Lieutenant De Verne came into the fire trench with a sergeant and six men.
"This is the patrol," announced the younger Frenchman. "All my men for to-night are veterans at the game. Captain Prescott, do you wish to try your hand as a bomber tonight?"
"I am more expert, Lieutenant, with an automatic pistol."
"Very good, then; you may stick to that weapon," agreed the lieutenant. "The sergeant and three men will carry their rifles; the other three men will serve as bombers. You observe that our faces and hands are blackened, as white faces betray one in No Man's Land. We will now help you to black up."
There followed some quick instructions, to all of which Dick listened attentively, for to him it was a new game.
"We have little gates cut through our own barbed wire," De Verne whispered in explanation. "Do not be in a hurry, Captain, when you leave the trench. Especially, take pains that you do not catch your clothing on any of the barbed wire as we crawl through."