subsequent attack.

"Pass the word for No. 8 Platoon commander," I ordered, wishing to
ascertain if the last platoon had arrived.

A young sergeant came up at the double, and saluted.

"I am in command, sir."

His tone and manner inspired me immensely. Notwithstanding all the
danger we had passed through, he seemed to be full of ginger and pride
at finding himself in command of the platoon.

"Where is Mr. Chislehirst, then?" I asked.

"Wounded, sir, in the wood; shot through the chest. The last I saw of
him he was giving another wounded man a drink from his water-bottle."

"All right; do you understand your orders?"

"Yes, sir, quite."

"Return to your platoon, and await orders to form up."

He saluted and doubled back to his men. I forget his name, but he was
a fine fellow, that sergeant; quite cool, and evidently pleased at his
new responsibility.

So poor old Chislehirst was hit; fine fellow; very young, only about
twenty; good company in the mess; reliable in the field. Just like him
to give his water-bottle to some one else when he could go no farther.

Farman was my only subaltern left. Suddenly he gripped my arm and
pointed into the wood:

"Look over there. Who are those fellows creeping along that trench?"

I looked in the direction he was pointing, and there, to my
astonishment, on the very ground just vacated by C Company, about a
dozen figures in bluish grey were creeping along a shallow trench. I
thought at first they were coming in to surrender; but they made no
signs, but were evidently making the best of cover.

What were they up to? There were only about 12 of them, and I had
between 70 and 80 men. For such a small number to come out alone and
attack us seemed absurd, and I waited, expecting them to throw up
their hands and come in. Perhaps they thought they had not been seen.
I picked up a rifle, and taking aim, fired at the last man but one; I
missed.

Still they kept creeping on. I fired a second time at the same man,
and he dropped. The thing didn't seem real, seeing those heads bobbing
along a trench; I felt for a moment as though I were shooting rabbits.

The next moment I realised their object. By this time they had worked
well round my flanks. They were evidently a few daring men, who were
trying to creep up unnoticed, with the intention of throwing bombs
while we were in a congested area, occupied in forming up for the
attack. A daring ruse, but a clever one; for a dozen men