n is usually a signal for
attack from one side or the other, and therefore requires all the usual
elaborate arrangements of reinforcements and supports and so on.
Therefore the Sapper Subaltern, when he had finished his work and made
his report, had nothing to do but sit down and wait until other
people's preparations were made, and he received orders to complete his
work by utterly and devastatingly destroying it. The Subaltern found
this wait about the most trying part of the whole affair, more
especially since he had for a good many days and nights had so much to
occupy his every moment.

He received word at last of the day and hour appointed for the
explosion, and had the honour of a visit of inspection from a very
superior officer who pored long and painstakingly over the paper plans,
put a great many questions, even went the length of walking down the
communication trench and peering down the entrance shaft, and looking
over the sandbagged wall through a periscope at the section of German
trench marked down for destruction. Then he complimented the Subaltern
on his work, declined once again the offer of a muddy mackintosh and an
invitation to crawl down the mine, and went off. The Subaltern saw him
off the premises, returned to the shaft and donned the mackintosh, and
crawled off up his tunnel once more.

Somehow, now that the whole thing was finished and ready, he felt a
pang of reluctance to destroy it and so fulfil its destiny. As he
crawled along, he noted each little bit of shoring-up and supporting
planks, each rise and fall in the floor, each twist and angle in the
direction, and recalled the infinite labour of certain sections, his
glows of satisfaction at the speed of progress at the easy bits, his
impatience at the slow and difficult portions. It seemed as if he had
been building that tunnel for half a lifetime, had hardly ever done
anything else but build it or think about building it. And now,
to-morrow it was all to be destroyed. He recalled with a thrill of
boyish pleasure the word of praise from the Corporal--a far greater
pleasure, by the way, than he had derived from the Great One's
compliments--the praise of one artist to another, the recognition of
good work done, by one who himself had helped in many good works and
knew well of what he spoke. 'She's done, sir,' the Corporal had said.
'And if I may say so, sir, she's a credit to you. A mighty tricky job,
sir, and I've seen plenty with