That there bough
might have been made for it, and foothold on that other branch
underneath. She weighs twenty-five pounds; but if you think the strap of
your map-case will hold, sir, it's as good as done."

Dennis slipped the map from his shoulder, and, buckling the strap end
round the muzzle of the Lewis, Tiddler held the weapon up to the full
extent of his arms while Dennis, taking the other end of the improvised
line in his hand, climbed up the beech again.

The straps held, to their great joy, and the pair below watched the
thing dangling in mid-air above their heads as Dennis hauled it slowly
upwards.

The men of C Company also watched the manoeuvre with keen interest;
and Hawke, with a couple of charged magazines in his hand, climbed up
and clung within arm's reach of his officer.

The Germans were flinging a terrific barrage fire upon the village in
our rear, and our own barrage was pulverising the ground beyond the
enemy ridge, almost drowning the sound of the two machine-guns which
were checking the British advance at that spot.

Dennis could see the gunner behind his sandbags, sweeping the front of
the wood, and, laying the gun, he pressed the trigger.

The detachable magazine of a Lewis holds forty-seven cartridges in two
layers; and, loosing a couple of trial shots, both of which drew a spurt
of earth from the sandbags, he kept his pull on the trigger, and emptied
the rest in a continuous stream.

He saw the gunner drop, and several heads peer anxiously round as
another man took his place. They were trying to locate the whereabouts
of this unseen enemy, but they fell back out of sight before they could
place it, and a third and a fourth gunner likewise.

The machine-gun was silenced before Dennis passed his hand down to the
delighted Hawke.

"Now's your time!" he yelled to the waiting line beneath, as he fixed
the deadly disc in position. And as he heard the whistles shrilling, he
almost lost his balance in the wild excitement that seized him.

"Charge, boys, charge!" was the cry, as the Reedshires sprang over the
tree-trunks and rushed up the slope, and a row of forage caps popped up
above the parapet.

They made a splendid mark for the lad; and it was a very broken volley
that met the khaki rush as Dennis played his weapon along the Bavarian
trench.

"Get down, Hawke!" he shouted; "we must be in this." And, leaving the
gun where it was, he clambered down, to find Hawke and Tiddler waiting
f