as their shells hit
or missed the target.

"Yes, sir," replied Leslie to Colonel Kemp's question, "that is
Longueval, on the slope opposite, with the road running through on the
way to Flers, over the skyline. That is Delville Wood on its right. As
you see, the guns are concentrating on both places. That is Waterlot
Farm, on this side of the wood--a sugar refinery. Regular nest of
machine-guns there, I'm told."

"No doubt we shall be able to confirm the rumour to-morrow," said
Colonel Kemp drily. "That is Bernafay Wood on our right, I suppose?"

"Yes, sir. We hold the whole of that. The pear-shaped wood out beyond
it--it looks as if it were joined on, but the two are quite separate
really--is Trones Wood. It has changed hands several times. Just at
present I don't think we hold more than the near end. Further away,
half-right, you can see Guillemont."

"In that case," remarked Wagstaffe, "our right flank would appear to
be strongly supported by the enemy."

"Yes. We are in a sort of right-angled salient here. We have the enemy
on our front and our right. In fact, we form the extreme right of the
attacking front. Our left is perfectly secure, as we now hold Mametz
Wood and Contalmaison. There they are." He waved his glass to the
northwest. "When the attack takes place, I understand that our Division
will go straight ahead, for Longueval and Delville Wood, while the next
Division makes a lateral thrust out to the right, to push the Boche out
of Trones Wood and cover our flank."

"I believe that is so," said the Colonel. "Bobby, take a good look
at the approaches to Longueval. That is the scene of to-morrow's
constitutional."

Bobby and Angus obediently scanned the village through their glasses.
Probably they did not learn much. One bombarded French village is
very like another bombarded French village. A cowering assemblage
of battered little houses; a pitiful little main street, with its
eviscerated shops and _estaminets_; a shattered church-spire. Beyond
that, an enclosure of splintered stumps that was once an orchard.
Below all, cellars, reinforced with props and sandbags, and filled
with machine-guns. _Voila tout_!

Presently the Gunner Captain passed word down to the telephone
operator to order the battery to cease fire.

"Knocking off?" inquired Wagstaffe.

"For the present, yes. We are only registering this morning. Not all
our batteries are going at once, either. We don't want Brother Boche
to know o