There was nothing very thrilling about my trench; it was an old one and all that remained now of any life was the blackened ground where there had been cooking, the brown soiled cartridge-cases, and many empty tin cans.

And then as I waited, leaning forward with my elbows on the earthwork, the frogs the only sound in the world, I was conscious that some one was watching me.

In front of me I could see the red light flickering and turning a little as it seemed--behind me nothing but the starlight.

I turned, looked back, and for my very life could not hold myself from calling out: "Who's there ?" I waited, then called more loudly: "Trenchard! Trenchard!" I laughed at myself, leant again on the trench and puffed at my cigarette.

Then once more I was absolutely assured that some one watched me.
I called again: "Who's there ?" Then quite suddenly and to my own absurd relief Trenchard appeared, stumbling forward over some roughness in the ground almost into my arms: "I say, it's beastly here," he cried.