“Two Dutchmen! Dey was in dis ditch—’bout thoity yards along. Keepin’ watch, I guess. Some watch!”
“Where are they now?”
“Still there. Quite still—there!”
“You mean,—?”
“Well, I ain’t one to blow, but—I’m here, and dey are not! You seen anything, Captain?”
“Yes; listen! There’s a German raiding-party, or something, mustering outside their wire. I saw them creeping into line, one by one, when the moon came out just now. They are coming across, and soon!”
“How are dey going to get through our wire?” enquired practical James.
“Either break it up with a five-minute trench-mortar bombardment, or creep forward and blow a few gaps with dynamite torpedoes. Now, I am going to wait here until they start moving. Then I shall get back, quick. Meanwhile”—Boone tugged at his field despatch-book—“I want you to take a note to Major Powers.”
Flat on his stomach, Boone was squirming deep into the rank undergrowth of the ditch.
“Hold this electric torch right down over the paper,” he said, “while I write. Keep a good look-out at the same time, and if you see any one, switch it off.”