"Yes, sir."
"How?"
"He will wait until the head of my tunnel gets near enough, and then blow it in."
"That would be very tiresome of him. What other alternatives are open to you?"
"I could get as near as possible, sir," replied Bertie calmly, "and then blow up his gallery."
"That sounds better. Well, exercise your own discretion, and don't get blown up unless you particularly want to. And above all, be quite sure that while you are amusing yourself with the Piccadilly Tube, the wily Boche isn't burrowing past you, and under my parapet, by the Bakerloo! Good luck! Report any fresh development at once."
So Bertie the Badger returned once more to his native element and proceeded to exercise his discretion. This took the form of continuing his aggressive tunnel in the direction of the Boche defensive gallery. Next morning, encouraged by the absolute silence of the enemy's miners, he made a farther and final push, which actually landed him in the "Piccadilly Tube" itself.
"This is a rum go, Howie!" he observed in a low voice to his corporal. "A long, beautiful gallery, five by four, lined with wood, electrically lighted, with every modern convenience—and not a Boche in it!"
"Varra bad discipline, sir!" replied Corporal Howie severely.
"Are you sure it isn't a trap?"