un for that. You'll simply have to be the observer, that's all."

Bou came back, lit a cigarette which the other promptly extinguished
and then subsided.

"What you think you're going to do; shoot from the farm?" Bou couldn't
possibly keep quiet any longer.

"Sure, Mike; why not?"

[Illustration: Canadian Soldiers in Action with Colt Machine Guns]

"Oh, nothing; but do you think we can get away with it?"

"Well, you've been here as long as I have and if you have not figured
out the way the boches do things around this place I'm afraid I can't
tell you; but I'll try. Now, they saw us come over here, didn't they?
And they naturally think we are in the farm buildings. Just as soon as
that fellow who was shooting at us can get word to their batteries
they will proceed to shoot up the place. After about a dozen direct
hits they will feel pretty well satisfied that they have either driven
us out or 'na-pooed' us, so that will be our time to get inside and
take a shot at this brilliant young Bavarian who will, without a
doubt, be looking over the parapet in the hope that he may get a crack
at us trying to 'beat it.' I've been wanting to get that guinea for a
long time and have a hunch that this is our day. See?"

Before the boy could answer there came a swift "whit; whit; whit;" and
three "bang; bang; bangs" in and above the main building of the farm.
Followed several more salvos, finally crashing through the walls and
throwing up fountains of brick-dust and earth. After waiting several
minutes they worked their way carefully along the hedge and around
behind the buildings. Entering the one nearest the road, which was a
mere shell with the roof and two walls entirely gone, they crept
cautiously across the floor, and dodging the carcass of a cow that lay
with its head in an old fireplace, they finally found themselves in a
back room. Many bales of tobacco lay piled up on the floor, covered
with the litter and wreckage from the upper story. Here the older man
uncovered an opening under the tobacco, through which they entered a
small chamber, perhaps eight feet square, comparatively clean. At one
side of this narrow space lay a figure covered with the well-known
blue overcoat of the French soldier.

"Who's your friend?" inquired the youngster.

"I don't know; he was here when I first came; but I think he was the
original sniper of Sniper's Barn. Look at that pile of shells beside
him."

Near the dead soldier was his r