and I must make my plans for to-morrow's attack.

A few minutes later I chanced to notice a figure sitting leisurely in
a shell-hole.

"Why, Septimus, is that you?"

"I think so; I say, I think so. Unearthly row; devilishly dangerous
place, this--what?"

"But what are you doing in there?"

"I was just coming to talk to you about ammunition. A shell burst, and
my face is simply covered with dust. Has the ammunition arrived yet?"

"No; there's an ammunition dump in the wood somewhere."

"Like me to go and find it?"

I looked at him in amazement. It wasn't funk then, that made him seek
safety in that shell-hole. Was it possible that dear old Septimus,
this bland, indifferent tubby, blase old thing of Bond Street, was
anxious to go into that creepy, mysterious wood to look for
ammunition?

"All right; take a corporal and 12 men, and bring back six boxes.
Don't take unnecessary risks; we shall need every man to-morrow."

Septimus sprang out of the shell-hole, saluted in the most correct
manner--something quite new for him--and disappeared in the darkness.

This was a new side of Septimus's character which had not shown itself
before. Only the stoutest heart would have chosen to wander about in
that wood at midnight, with enemy patrols lurking about. Septimus was
a man, after all.

Five minutes later he passed me, leading his men. He gripped my hand
as he passed, with the remark: "Well! Ta-ta, old thing."

"Cheer oh!"

And Septimus was gone. We may call men fops, simple vacant fools, or
what we like; but the war has proved over and over again that the man
within the man is merely disguised by his outer covering. Many a Bond
Street Algy, or ballroom idol has proved amidst the terrors of war
that the artificial covering of a peace-time habit is but skin-deep;
and the real man is underneath.

CHAPTER XIII

A NIGHT OF ALARM

SEPTIMUS IN A NEW ROLE. SAVING THE AMMUNITION. THE LAST CARTRIDGE

Just then a movement in the rear of my position attracted my
attention. A number of men were approaching; then halting, they sat on
the ground, while two figures continued on towards me.

They were Second Lieutenant Wade, the intrepid scout officer, and
Second Lieutenant Brady, in command of the battalion bombers. It was
Brady who spoke first:

"Hullo! Getting peppered pretty hot, aren't you?"

"Rather lively! Where are you off to?"

"I've got orders to bomb out that mysterious trench you've heard so
much