Soon after this Sands singled me out as the victim to attend him on a telephone-laying expedition. He warned me overnight, and I felt then a strange unwillingness for the honour; and when the hour arrived, I had not changed my mind. Somewhere about half-past three I was shaken from sleep; and I jumped straight up and pulled on my clothes.
On the way from the dug-out I met Sands wandering round the cook-house like an uneasy ghost. He seemed to be looking for something, and quite ignored my existence for several minutes. But he shot a glance at me more than once out of the corner of his eye, though he spoke no word and went on with whatever he was doing.
At last he came to himself: he pushed hands into his pockets, and started off into the dark. “Come along, Lake,” he said casually over his shoulder. And he faded away. Those were the first words he spoke.
I hurried after him, loaded with a hand-reel. We picked a way through the dug-outs down into the valley. Clear starlight was overhead; but it was absolutely dark down there. I had no idea where we were going—no idea of the direction, nor of how far—but this I soon discovered. We were moving towards our right wing.
We took the communication trench which runs from our observing station, and followed it to the end. It emptied us into the foot of the big valley—the one leading to the trenches—but instead of turning up the valley, Sands struck straight across. We passed the Indian camp on our left hand: there was nothing to prove its existence, until the mules began to stamp. Then we picked up a small path winding round the bottom of the hill. I knew it at once; I had passed that way a day or two before. Sands continued to push on a pace or two in advance; and presently without turning his head or making any movement, he called back: “Do you know where A Battery is, Lake?”
“Yes, sir, I was there two days ago.”
“Oh; it has moved since then.”
“Then I have no idea where it is.”
“Neither have I,” he said. And he sniggered.
“Are we going to A Battery?” I asked.