"My lads," said the sergeant, as he turned round with a beaming countenance, "There will be tobacco to-night! The watch-word of the Prussians has been discovered, and this time we shall take that cursed Bourget from them!"
There was an explosion of "bravos" and laughter. The men danced, sang, and clashed their sword-bayonets, while the lads, taking advantage of the tumult, wended on their way.
The trench crossed, the plain lay extended in front of them; beyond it was a long white wall, loopholed for musketry. Towards this wall they made their way, halting at every step, pretending to pick up potatoes.
"Let us go back; do not go there," little Stenne kept saying. But the other only shrugged his shoulders, and continued to advance. Suddenly they heard the click of a fire-lock.
"Lie down," cried the big boy, throwing himself flat on the ground as he spoke.
As soon as he was down he whistled.
Another whistle came across the snow in reply. The boys crawled on. In front of the wall, on the level of the plain, appeared a pair of yellow moustaches under a dirty forage-cap. The big boy leaped into the trench beside the Prussian.
"This is my brother," he said, indicating his companion.
He was so small, this little Stenne, that the Prussian laughed when he looked at him, and he was obliged to lift him up to the embrasure.