In his voice there was neither anxiety nor even interest; he made the statement as one might remark the evening was excellent for a walk.
We said no more all the way down the slope. I knew now he had no idea where we were, where we were going, nor what was to happen to us. And I knew also that Gaba Tepeh was straight ahead. I saw us lost among the wire entanglements, waiting to be sniped like crows when light should come that way. A tender sadness crept into my heart. No more for me the lambs would frolic, no more the jackass would laugh or the magpie jodel; no more, with joyous bark, would the family hound meet me at my gate. Such joys were for others. I dropped a silent tear.
A stiff hill rose directly ahead, and the world was vaguely grey with the approach of dawn. Sands looked at this hill, looked hard at it, and once or twice threw a glance at me from the tail of his eye. Finally he swore feebly and started to climb it.
I do not know whether the road was old or not, it was wide and seemed smooth enough; but the sappers may have made it. They seemed able to throw up roads where they liked.
I went to the side of the way, and helped myself along by pulling at the bushes. The last poetic feelings left me here, and in their place came sentiments of utmost venom towards Sands. For his own part he said nothing at all, but just breathed heavily, perspired and toiled on.
Some distance up, the road circled backward and lost some of its steepness, and I could see that, though we never reached our goal, we should find ourselves presently in the neighbourhood of home. I began to take heart.
After we had gone some distance and the minutes had hurried by and the landscape was taking form round us, the path crossed at right angles a road, and to my astonishment the new track bore fresh gunmarks. Sands gaped a moment, like myself in doubt, and too overcome for speech; but not long was such a veteran nonplussed. He looked me calmly in the face and said, easily, “I knew it was somewhere just about here, Lake. We follow the road right up. A Battery will be somewhere on top of the hill. We must hurry: the shrapnel will start any minute now.” He set the example. What could I say to such luck? I bowed my head and meekly followed.
We pursued the wheeltracks up the hill; but could not keep up the pace. Farther on we ran into a camp—sappers, I think they were—and the guard told us guns had passed by during the night. It was now twilight, and the country was distinguishable. A hundred yards farther on we followed the gun tracks off the main path; and then, round a corner, we came on a gun and a waggon and a camp of artillerymen. A few men were up and about; but many were rolled still in the blankets. The guard told us the battery was not far away, and gave directions. In no time we were among the communication trenches. They ran this way and that, so that we were constantly asking the way. Sleeping men lay along the bottom of the trenches, and it was hard to avoid them all; in truth, more than one string of oaths followed our progress. Finally, we came on the battery observing station, where was Major Felix with several men. I took a seat on a stone in the background while Sands explained his errand. I do not know what he said, but the major’s face failed to light up with welcome. Presently Sands beckoned to me with a jerk of the head. “We are laying the line to here,” he said, as we came up. “We have to find the drum now. Jones and I brought it half-way up the valley last night.”
So we were only starting operations!