"Good night, Waterman."
It was a fairly bright night, although a few clouds hung in the sky. Tom heard approaching footsteps, and then hid himself in a sharp corner of the trench while Waterman passed him. Tom followed noiselessly, all the time keeping out of sight of the man he watched. This he was able to do with comparative ease, owing to the zig-zag nature of the trench. Tom knew that at this particular point they were only a little more than a hundred yards from the German lines, and that the German snipers were constantly on the watch for any one who might happen to show himself above the sand-bags. He had not gone more than twenty yards when he saw Waterman stop and look around.
Tom stopped almost instinctively, still hidden by a sharp turn in the trench. The light was fairly good, and Tom's eyes were keen. He saw that the man had adopted a listening attitude. That particular part of the trench was for the moment deserted, although any moment a patrol might appear. Evidently Waterman was keenly watchful; he looked each way with evident care, and listened attentively. Then he took a piece of white paper from his pocket which seemed to be attached to something heavy. Even in the dim light Tom saw the white gleam of the paper which Waterman had taken from his pocket. Quick as a thought Waterman stepped on to the ledge of the trench, and then, leaning over the sand-bags, threw the paper towards the German lines. This done he stepped back and hurried quickly away.
For a second the lad was almost paralysed; then the meaning of it came to him like a flash of light, and before Waterman had proceeded half a dozen yards Tom had sprung upon him.
"What do you mean, fellow? Get away from me!" and Waterman struggled to free himself.
But Tom held on like grim death. "You are a German spy, that's what you are!" he said hoarsely. "A mean, skulking German spy!"
"This will mean death for you, my man," said Waterman, still struggling. "You are enough of a soldier to know that for a private to strike an officer in war time means court martial and death."
"It will not be I who will be court martialled," panted Tom. "Ah, you swine!" for at that moment Waterman had pulled out his pistol, and had not Tom struck his arm a bullet would have gone through his brain.
"I say, what's this?"
"A German spy!" cried Tom hoarsely, "he tried to shoot me, sir!"