etches and taking photographs of the
incidents of the battle.

He now arranged a regular rest for his kodak in the breastwork of the
trench and stooped down behind the apparatus, which was directed towards
the six Japanese guns to the left in front of the houses at Hilgard, the
position of which could only be recognized by the clouds of smoke which
ascended after each shot was fired. Just then he heard the order being
passed along to the 8th battery to give these guns a broadside of
shrapnel, and as it would probably take a few minutes before this order
could be carried out, Singley pulled out his note-book and glanced over
the entries made during the last hour:

No. 843. Japanese shell bursts through a plank covering.
" 844. Trench manned afresh.
" 845. Captain Lange smoking while under fire.
" 846. Japanese shrapnels indicate the line of our trenches in the air.

Then he put his note-book down beside him and crept under his kodak
again, carefully fixing the object-glass on the battery opposite. Now
then! A streak of solid lightning flashed in front of the second gun,
and a black funnel of smoke shot up. Click!

No. 847. Firing at the Japanese battery before Hilgard.

Singley exchanged the film for a new one, and then looked about for
another subject for his camera. He took off his cap and peeped carefully
over the edge of the trench. Could he be mistaken? He saw a little
black speck making straight for the spot where he was. "A shell" rushed
through his thoughts like a flash, and he threw himself flat on the
bottom of the trench.

With a whirring noise the heavy shell struck the back wall of the
trench. "An explosive shell!" shouted Captain Lange, "everybody down!"

The air shook with a tremendous detonation; sand and stones flew all
around, and the suffocating powder-gas took everybody's breath away; but
gradually the soldiers began to recognize one another through the dust
and smoke, thankful at finding themselves uninjured.

"Captain!" called a weak voice from the bottom of the trench, "Captain
Lange, I'm wounded." The captain bent down to assist the
war-correspondent, who was almost buried under a pile of earth.

"Oh, my legs," groaned Singley. Two soldiers took hold of him and placed
him with his back against the wall of earth. The lower part of both his
thighs had been smashed by pieces from the shell. "Will you please do me
a last service?" he asked of Captain Lange.

"Of course, Singley