words, after you had left your bag in the host's hall, he
suggested a stroll in the village or across the fields. But only to see
war would he have asked you to walk in such mud.

"Not quite so loud!" he warned a soldier who was bringing up boards
from the rear under cover of darkness. "If the Germans hear they
may start firing."

Two other men were piling mud on top of a section of breastwork at
an angle to the main line.

"What is that for?" the captain asked.

"They get an enfilade on us here, sir, and Mr.------ (the lieutenant) told
me to make this higher."

"That's no good. A bullet will go right through," said the captain. "We'll
have to wait until we get more sandbags."

A little farther on we came to an open space, with no protection
between us and the Germans. Half a dozen men were piling earth
against a staked chicken wire to extend the breastworks. Rather, they
were piling mud, and they were besmirched from head to foot. They
looked like reeking Neptunes rising from a slough. In the same
position in daylight, standing full height before German rifles at three
hundred yards, they would have been shot dead before they could
leap to cover.

"How does it go?" asked the captain.

"Very well, sir; though what we need is sandbags."

"We'll have some up to-morrow."

At the moment there was no firing in the vicinity. Faintly I heard the
Germans pounding stakes, at work improving their own breastworks.

A British soldier appeared out of the darkness in front.

"We've found two of our men out there with their heads blown off by
shells," he said. "Have we permission to go out and bury them, sir?"

"Yes."

They would be as safe as the fellows piling mud against the chicken
wire, unless the Germans opened fire. If they did, we could fire on
their working-party, or in the direction of the sound. For that matter,
we knew through our glasses by day the location of any weak places
in their breastworks, and they knew where ours were. A sort of "after-
you-gentlemen-if-you-fire-we-shall" understanding sometimes exists
between the foes up to a certain point. Each side understands
instinctively the limitation of that point. Too much noise in working, a
number of men going out to bury dead or making enough noise to be
heard, and the ball begins. A deep, broad ditch filled with water made
a break in our line. No doubt a German machine-gun was trained on
it.

"A little bridging is required here," said the captain