eces, popped out of the narrow entrances of dug-outs,
clambered up the steep wooden steps from the caverns prepared in the
earth, and, digging hard, made strenuous efforts to repair their
trenches. Others sneaked along unsuspected galleries to holes far out
in front of the line, where machine-guns were cunningly hidden; while,
yet again, others plied to and fro along the communication-trenches,
forcing their way past obstructions and falls of earth caused by the
bombardment, hastening to procure more ammunition.

"It's an attack in force; hold your fire, mes enfants!" shouted the
Commander of that section of the trenches in which Henri and Jules were
stationed. "See them! Thousands of Boches coming from the trees and
marching towards us. Hold them a little while, my comrades, and then
we shall repay them for all that we have suffered. Hold, my friends,
for though these trenches are now but furrows and holes in the ground,
they yet give shelter enough for men who love their country and who
would resist those who are advancing."

Shouts came along the line; men called across the battered traverses to
one another; _poilus_ sat at their machine-guns in those cunningly
hidden pits, gripping the handles, their eyes riveted upon the sights
and upon the enemy. Rifles were jerked into position, while men
grabbed at packets of reserve ammunition, and, finding some convenient
ledge, placed them close and handy.

"It will be a fight to the death, my Henri," called the Sergeant as
cheerfully as ever, drawing at the stout pipe which he favoured--"a
fight to the death; for not until we are wiped out shall Germans
advance over this position."

Yes, it was to be a "fight to the death"; for the opening battle of the
long series of tremendous conflicts which raged round Verdun for weeks
later was to be amongst the most momentous and fiercest of them.

CHAPTER X

The Thin Line of Heroes

"They are coming! See them swarming from the trees yonder. Watch them
tramping through the snow!

"Steady! Hold your fire! Let the guns alone deal with them. Bravo,
mes amis, you are doing grandly! This is a day for the sons of France
to let the enemy know they are still in existence."

Very quietly, with that sang-froid which the French possess, perhaps,
above all others, with determination written on every face, both young
and old, and with heroism shining from their features, those gallant
_poilus_, all along the line sweepi