"Perhaps it was a sniper or a scout," suggested Dacres, who at the first alarm had hurried to his post.
"If so, I fancy he's made himself scarce," added Osborne.
"By the by, Osborne," remarked Major Fane, "did you set that cord up fairly tight when you fixed it to the trigger?"
"As taut as I dared," replied the Lieutenant. "It wanted only a four-pound pull to set off the cartridge."
"Then I fancy I can explain," continued the Major. "You didn't make any allowance for the contraction of the cord with the dew."
Osborne bit his lip. He was too straightforward to offer excuses. He knew perfectly well the effect of damp upon rope, and at this critical time he had omitted to make practical use of his knowledge. The false alarm had turned out every man when they badly needed sleep and rest.
The Very's pistol was reloaded and the trigger-line slacked off. Once more the men not on sentry sought to gain some hours of slumber in their uncomfortable surroundings.
The rest of the night passed without further incident, the enemy making no further attempt to molest the camp. With the dawn the defenders were roused. A small quantity of water, half a biscuit, and a morsel of salt beef were served out, and on this scanty ration each man had to exist for the next six hours.
"Where's that Turkish fellow?" enquired Osborne. "He hasn't put in an appearance for his food."
No one had seen him, for owing to his religious scruples the Ottoman aviator had constructed his shelter at a little distance to the rear of the trench.