"Take my tip, and put the skid on when you get yourn up, mate. George! it give me a fright and no mistake."
They drove the second lorry to the summit, leaving Kenneth and Ginger to carry up the spilled load.
"The lorry isn't so badly damaged as he thinks," said Kenneth. "The brake is bent, and a good deal of wood is chipped off, but the thing will run all right."
He so informed the driver when he met him.
"All the same, you don't catch me driving it back to-night," said the man. "It's nearly dark, the road's bad enough when you're too complay, as the Frenchies say. I'll leave it to the morning at any rate."
It was dark when Kenneth and Ginger had finished their task. They took their places with their platoon in the firing trench.
"Think they'll have any gas for us to-morrow?" said Ginger.
"It's not very likely," said Kenneth. "The gas the Germans have been using lies low; it would be more useful to us."
"Well, why shouldn't we use it too? What's the odds whether you're killed with gas or shrapnel? Gas don't hurt, I expect, and it's a deal cleaner."
"Upon my word I don't know," Kenneth replied. "There's no logic in it. But somehow it goes against the grain. You poison dogs with gas, not men."