he thought of it. The Sergeant had
been killed by enfilade fire. It was quite obvious that their line was
thrown out, as it were, between the two general lines. Consequently they
were enfiladed by the enemy, threatened very seriously on their front,
on account of the proximity of the copses, and if forced to retire there
was absolute certainty of being mown down by their own cavalry. The
Senior Subaltern succeeded in clearing one copse, after firing a few
shots and making a bold advance, but had not sufficient men to retain
it. Then, just as darkness was closing down on the hopeless tangle, a
message was passed up to "close on the road."

The relief at this order was impossible to describe. Their spirits rose
meteorically. They scarcely succeeded in hiding their joy from the
cavalry who were to be left in their trenches, and when they set off
towards Poussey there was a wonderful swing in their step.

In an hour's time they were back in their old billets, and the Officers
opened a bottle of wine, on the strength, as some one said, of getting
out of an "extraordinarily awkward position."

"Well," said the Captain, with a half-full tumbler in his hand, "here's
hoping that our wonderful luck keeps in."

They drank in silence, and soon after adjourned to the outhouse.

CHAPTER XXX

THE JAWS OF DEATH

The next morning they learned that their turn of duty as Local Reserve
was over, and that they were "to take over" a line of trenches that
evening. The Captain went alone to be shown round in the morning.

They wrote letters all morning, had an early dinner, and retired early
to the outhouse to put in a few hours sound sleep in anticipation of
several "trying" nights.

At about five o'clock they awoke, and found that the Captain had
returned in the meantime. He explained the position to them as they
drank their tea.

"The trenches are just in the edge of a wood," he said. "It is
extraordinarily thick. It would be absolutely impossible to retire. The
field of fire is perfect. The skyline is only two hundred yards away,
and there wouldn't be an inch of cover for them, except a few dead
cows."

"I shouldn't think dead cows were bullet-proof, should you?" asked the
Senior Subaltern.

"There's one thing you will have to watch. There are any amount of spies
about, and they let the Germans know, somehow, when the reliefs are
coming up the road, and then the road gets searched. They don't know
exactly where you