'We're better off than you, anyhow,' and this time it was a German who spoke. 'If we come alive out of this, we shall be all right; but you are our prisoners.'
'Prisoners if you like, my dear fellow, but what's the good of that to you?'
'Every English prisoner taken is one step nearer to German victory,' replied the soldier sententiously.
'Nonsense! There'll never be a German victory, and you know it. You've never been behind the British lines, have you? Why, man, there are mountains of guns and ammunition—every day is adding to the stock, and soon, mark you, very soon, all these places of yours will become so many death-traps.'
The German laughed incredulously.
'Do you know what'll happen soon?' went on the English voice, 'there will be bombing parties along here; you may be safe for the moment, but you can't get out,—not one of you dare try. If you did, it would be all up with you.'
'What are you getting at?' snarled the German. 'You are our prisoner, anyhow, and if we are killed, so will you be!'
'Just so. But then I don't want to get killed, neither do you.'
'I know it's a beastly business,' said the German, 'and I wish this cursed war would come to an end.'
'Yes, you see you were mistaken now, don't you?' and the Englishman with the quiet voice laughed. 'You were told it was all going to be over in a few weeks, and that it was going to be a picnic. "Bah!" you said, "what can the English do?" But, my dear fellow, the English have only just begun. You are just ramming your heads against a stone wall. You won't hurt the wall, but your heads will get mightily battered. Oh yes, we are your prisoners, there are just three of us left alive, and you are thirty. But what is the good of it?'