ime and looked down a thirty-foot hole on a dug-out full of
graybacks. There must have been a lot of them. I could plainly see
four or five faces looking up with surprised expressions.

Blofeld chucked in two or three Millses and away we went.

A little farther along we came to the entrance of a mine shaft, a
kind of incline running toward our lines. Blofeld went in it a
little way and flashed his light. He thought it was about forty
yards long. We put several of our remaining Stokeses in that and
wrecked it.

Turning the corner of the next traverse, I saw Jerry drop his rifle
and unlimber his persuader on a huge German who had just rounded
the corner of the "bay." He made a good job of it, getting him in
the face, and must have simply caved him in, but not before he had
thrown a bomb. I had broken my bayonet prying the dug-out door off
and had my gun up-ended--clubbed.

[Illustration: OVER THE TOP ON A RAID. Photograph from Underwood &
Underwood, N.Y.]

When I saw that bomb coming, I bunted at it like Ty Cobb trying to
sacrifice. It was the only thing to do. I choked my bat and poked
at the bomb instinctively, and by sheer good luck fouled the thing
over the parapet. It exploded on the other side.

"Blimme eyes," says Jerry, "that's cool work. You saved us the
wooden cross that time."

We had found two more machine guns and were planting Stokeses under
them when we heard the Lewises giving the recall signal. A good
gunner gets so he can play a tune on a Lewis, and the device is
frequently used for signals. This time he thumped out the old
one--"All policemen have big feet." Rat-a-tat-tat--tat, tat.

It didn't come any too soon.

As we scrambled over the parapet we saw a big party of Germans
coming up from the second trenches. They were out of the
communication trenches and were coming across lots. There must have
been fifty of them, outnumbering us five or six to one.

We were out of bombs, Jerry had lost his rifle, and mine had no
"ammo." Blofeld fired the last shot from his revolver and, believe
me, we hooked it for home.

We had been in their trenches just three and a half minutes.

Just as we were going through their wire a bomb exploded near and
got Jerry in the head. We dragged him in and also the two men that
had been clicked on the first fire. Jerry got Blighty on his wound,
but was back in two months. The second time he wasn't so lucky. He
lies now somewhere in France with a wooden cross over