"Come in," called Lieutenant Donaldson, as Bill knocked on the door. "Stand easy. Now, Grant and Higgins. I haven't had a chance of congratulating you on what you did the other day."
"That wasn't nothing, sir—on'y luck, that was," murmured Bill, and Alf shuffled his feet sympathetically. Each had an uncomfortable feeling that he was obtaining credit on false pretenses.
"However," continued the company commander, "what I want you to do now is to tell the intelligence officer just how it all happened, and answer his questions."
He was looking at Higgins as he spoke, and could not help being struck with the expression of horrified apprehension that flitted across those ingenuous features. He said nothing, however, but while the intelligence officer was catechizing them he kept his sleepy-looking but most observant eyes more than ordinarily wide open.
"And that's all you can tell me?" asked the I.O., after he had asked a dozen questions and received nothing but the most unsatisfactory of replies.
"Yes, sir. The Boche, 'e didn't tell us nothing. 'E comes down the road, an' we jumps out on 'im. 'Iggins 'ere grabs 'is pistol, an' we marches 'im 'ome. That's all."
"Did you question him at all?"
"No, sir."
"Why not? You didn't expect to see a Boche officer there, did you?"
"No, sir."