He gave himself up to pleasant ruminations over his chance of winning until he was rudely roused by a bullet whistling past his ear.
"Snipers about," was his first thought as he set his horse to a gallop.
Another bullet whizzed above his head. He looked round, but saw nobody. It was dark; the sniper must have heard the sound of his horse's hoofs and fired in that direction.
There were only two shots but they roused him out of his reverie and put him on the alert.
Then he wondered how it came about that the sniper was behind the
German trenches. Jean told him he would have to pass them somehow.
Had he by some strange piece of luck got past the trenches? Was he
between two fires? That was hardly possible, yet it might be so.
He pulled his horse up and listened. A strange, buzzing sound was heard—probably some aircraft, although it seemed too dark for aviators to see their whereabouts.
He heard voices and movements of men. A gust of wind carried them toward him. The men spoke German; he had only just stopped in time.
He had no idea where he was. To wait there until daylight would court danger but in which direction ought he to go?
Had he reached a strip of "no man's land," a space left unborrowed and unbroken, lying between two fires? If so he was "between the devil and the deep sea," for he might be fired on by friend and foe alike.
It was a thrilling position, a solitary man on horseback on a dark night on unknown ground and surrounded by enemies. Alan listened with the keen ears of a sportsman, all his faculties alert. A false movement and he was lost.