"That's your real name?" he queried.
I assured him that it was, but my assurance was lost, for a second shell rioted overhead, and the escort and officer went again flop to the cold ground.
"That shell has gone further than the last," I said to the prostrate figures. "The Germans are shelling the road on the right; it's a pastime of theirs."
"Is that so?" asked the officer, getting to his feet again. Then, hurriedly, "What's your regiment?"
Before I had time to reply, three more prisoners were taken in under escort; I recognised Pryor as one of them. He carried a jar of water in his hand.
"Who are these?" asked the officer.
"They came up to the sentry and asked questions about the regiment," said the fresh escort. "The sentry's suspicions were aroused and he signalled to us, and we came forward and arrested these three persons."
The officer looked at the prisoners.
"What are your names, your regiments?" he asked. "Answer quickly. I've no time to waste."