"Stand there and listen. Never mind the row the guns are making; listen for somebody on the stairs. Look how light it's getting! The sun will push up before many minutes. We've got 'em! Got 'em! Wet your finger and try the wind!"
"North."
"North here, too. What do you know about that! Luck! Luck's with us! And we've got 'em—!" he lifted his clenched hand and laughed at her. "Like that!" he said, his blue eyes blazing. "They're getting ready to gas below. Look at 'em! Glory to God! I can see two cylinders directly under me. They're manning the nozzles! Every man is masking[pg 255] at his post! Anybody on the stairs! Any sound?"
"None."
"Are you certain?"
"It is as still as death below."
"Try the dust. The wind's changing, I think. Quick! Which way?"
"West."
"Oh, glory! Glory to God! They feel it below! They know. The wind has changed. Off came their respirators. No gas this morning, eh? Yes, by God, there will be gas enough for all——!"
He caught up a bomb, leaned over the parapet, held it aloft, poised, aiming steadily for one second of concentrated coördination of mind and muscle. Then straight down he launched it. The cylinder beneath him was shattered and a green geyser of gas burst from it deluging the trench.