"Well ye're damned unlucky," said the sergeant with a chuckle. "We're goin' ter raid the henemy's trenches. We want to see what they're doin'. Indefication purposes ye know. They're too damned quiet 'ere. And you know when the German is keepin' quiet ye've got to oil yer hipe."
The section was up and alert in an instant; anticipation flushed every face.
"I'm in this 'ere game," said Bubb in a vehement voice. "Larst time I was out o' it."
"All's in it, that is, every man in this platoon 'cept them just out," said the sergeant. "They'll stay 'ere an' mind the 'ouse while we're away."
"I'm going out in the raid," said Reynolds in an eager voice. "I want to be in the fun."
"Yer do, do yer?" asked the sergeant, scratching his head. "Ye never do wot ye want in this 'ere crush, my boy," he bellowed. "Ye just do wot I tell you; an' you'll find that quite enuff, 'fore ye're 'ere very long. If ye do wot I tell you and do it well ye're all right. I'll make it easy for you. That's me, Snogger."
Reynolds lay back against the wall of the dug-out, his fair, youthful face lit by the glow of the candle which Flanagan had just placed in a niche of the wall. The boy was bitterly disappointed; the others were going over the top and he was to be left alone. He opened his lips to say something and his voice faltered; he was on the verge of tears.
"Is there any means of getting out with you?" he asked. "Couldn't somebody stay back and let me go in his place?"
"The bloke as doesn't want ter go isn't in this 'ere regiment," said Bubb.
The sergeant, who had just gone outside, returned carrying a tin filled with a substance black and soft like soot.