Spring was well on its way now; the boys in the trenches were happy again. Bubb and Flanagan were up to any sort of mischief or deed of daring. The persistent sniper who kept potting at their bay annoyed them however. Bubb, back from hospital and full of vitality, vowed that it was up to him to put the sniper out of action.
"I'm goin' up on this 'ere caboosh at the rear," said Bubb pointing to the slag-heap behind the British front line. "I'll maybe get a sight on the Boche."
"I'm with you in the game," said Flanagan.
Both men went out in the early dawn and took their places close to the crest of the mammoth slag-heap. Noon found them still there lying prone on the surface of the coal-mines' off-scour, their heads close to the rim of the heap, their eyes fixed on the enemy's trench which wound slyly as a snake through the levels some seven hundred yards away. A spit down from the two boys lay the English line. Out in front of it dozens of bundles in khaki lay limp and lifeless, waiting for the summer to cover them up with her flowers.
"There's a 'undred or more, out there," said Bubb. "Gawd, it's a funny bisness, killin' and killin'. One would think we enjoys it by the fuss the pypers in England makes o' it. Anyway, it's a blurry rotten way of fightin'," he continued as he changed his position by the fraction of an inch without removing his eye from the tip of the rifle foresight. "Gawd," he whispered, "I 'ave 'im now. I saw somefin' move just like a bird. I'll give 'im a round."
"Don't," muttered Flanagan, under his breath. "It's no good firing if you're not sure of your man. One shot will give us away, and that's the twentieth time you've seen him; each time in a different spot. He's not like a bird; he can't be in two places at one time.... What the hell! Don't move!"
"A cramp in my guts!" groaned Bubb, wriggling a little. "Gawd, it isn't 'arf giving me gyp! Ooh—whooh!"
The youth kicked out with both legs, raised his head an inch or two, then brought it down again to the level of the earth. Flanagan swore under his breath and cursed Bubb with vehemence.
"I can't 'elp it," said Bubb. "I must move. I'd rather 'ave a bullet in the 'ead than a cramp in my belly. Wooh! It'll twist me up like a 'edge 'og!"
"Matey," whispered Flanagan, turning half left and fixing his eyes on Spudhole.