"Well, I should say so! Nothing is safe from these thieving rascals. It's a positive wonder they don't try to get away with our steel helmets."
After a few moments' conversation the three clambered up the ladder and emerged into the open air. With the officer accompanying them, Don and Dunstan presently walked around a bend, and came upon a trench that started out at right angles to the firing-line and wound in a most irregular fashion across "No Man's Land."
"Hello!" exclaimed Don, in surprise. "Where does that go?"
"To the listening post," answered the military man.
"The listening post?"
"Yes, mon ami. And the end of it is so close to the enemy's trenches that the sentry who is stationed there—and one always is—can easily overhear the voices of the Boches. The sentry's duty is to listen and observe, and, as you can very well imagine, it is a pretty dangerous assignment."
"I'll wager it is," said Don. "I'd rather keep to the main street."
"Very naturally. A man in such an isolated position stands a good chance of being cut off from all help. Should the sentry discover a German patrol or anything else that looks at all suspicious he'd communicate the facts at once. Then, as a discourager to any German tricks, six hundred cartridges a minute could be sent crashing across 'No Man's Land.'"
"Is there an abri out there for the sentry?" asked Don.
"Well, rather!"