Shortly before Peter's return to the army he had received a letter from Capt. Starkley-Davenport, telling of the reunion of the cousins in London and virtually offering him a commission in the writer's old regiment. Peter had also heard something of the plan from Dick a few days before. He answered the captain's letter promptly and frankly, to the effect that he had no military ambition beyond that of doing his duty to the full extent of his power against Germany, and that a commission in an English regiment was an honor he could accept only if it should come to him unavoidably, in the day's work.
Peter reached England in the third week of October and with three hundred companions fresh from Canada was attached to a reserve battalion on St. Martin's Plain for duty and instruction. Peter was given the acting rank of sergeant. Early in December he crossed to France and reached his battalion without accident. He found that the 26th had experienced its full share of the fortunes and misfortunes of war. Scores of familiar faces were gone. His old platoon had suffered many changes since he had left it in St. John a year ago. Its commander, a Lieut. Smith, was an entire stranger to him, and he had known the platoon sergeant as a private. Mr. Scammell was now scout officer and expecting his third star at any moment. Dave Hammer, still a sergeant, and Dick, Sacobie and Hiram Sill also were scouts. Dick, was a corporal now and had never been touched by shot, shell or sickness. Sacobie had been slightly wounded and had been away at a field ambulance for a week.
Peter rejoined his old platoon and, as it was largely composed at this time of new troops, was permitted to retain his acting rank of sergeant. He performed his duties so satisfactorily that he was confirmed in his rank after his first tour in the trenches.
On the third night of Peter's second tour in the front line, Dave Hammer, Dick and Frank Sacobie took him out to show him about. All carried bombs, and Sergt. Hammer had a pistol as well. They were hoping to surprise a party of Germans at work mending their wire.
Hammer slipped over the parapet. Peter followed him. Dick and Sacobie went over together, quick as the wink of an eye. Their faces and hands were black. With Dave Hammer in the lead, Peter at the very soles of his spiked boots and Dick and Sacobie elbow to elbow behind Peter, they crawled out through their own wire by the way of an intricate channel. When a star shell went up in front, near enough to light that particular area, they lay motionless. They went forward during the brief periods of darkness and half light.
At last they got near enough to the German wire to see it plainly, and the leader changed his course to the left. When they lay perfectly still they could hear many faint, vague sounds in every direction: far, dull thuds before and behind them, spatters of rifle fire far off to the right and left, the bang of a Very pistol somewhere behind a parapet and now and then the crash of a bursting shell.
A few minutes later Dave twisted about and laid a hand on Peter's shoulder. He gave it a gentle pull. Peter crawled up abreast of him. Dave put his lips to Peter's ear and whispered:
"There they are."
A twisty movement of his right foot had already signaled the same information to the veterans in the rear. Peter stared at the blotches of darkness that Dave had indicated. They did not move often or quickly and kept close to the ground. Sometimes, when a light was up, they became motionless and instantly melted from view, merging into the shadows of the night and the tangled wire. Now and then Peter heard some faint sound of their labor, as they worked at the wire.
"Only five of them," whispered the scout sergeant. "They are scared blue. Bet their skunks of officers had to kick them out of the trench. Let's sheer off a few yards and give 'em something to be scared about."