In half an hour's time he returns.
"Well! What was the matter?"
Thereupon, half-smiling, and half-angry, he relates—
"It was a German patrol that had taken the wrong direction. Our sentry was watching, sheltered by a tarpaulin stretched across two pieces of wood. He hears the sound of voices and heavy steps, and, crash! something splits the tarpaulin and falls with a howl on to his shoulders. It was a German! Stupefied, the sentry calls out: 'To arms!' Everybody comes rushing from the shelters, and there is a fine uproar. Meanwhile, the German scales the parapet and clears off. The patrol had already disappeared."
When the lieutenant has gone, we make our way through the three or four hundred yards of deserted, winding branches to visit the heroes of the adventure. They look very shamefaced.
The corporal seems uneasy.
"Do you think the lieutenant will give me the lock-up for this?"
Indignantly he adds—
"But what fools they were to come along here! Is that the way an enemy patrol goes to work?"
Evidently, if the enemy in future approaches our lines without taking the usual precautions, he will no longer be playing the game!