'Why, man, last night for an hour you were in the front line--the place where the enemy forces touch our own.

You were over the top--you were in No-man's-land.' He laughed.

'That is one way to look at it'; and then he stalked off and I watched his lean figure till it was round the turn of the hill.
All that morning I smoked peacefully by the burn, and let my thoughts wander over the whole business.

I had got precisely what Blenkiron wanted, a post office for the enemy.

It would need careful handling, but I could see the juiciest lies passing that way to the _Grosses Haupiquartier_.