The soldier who was in charge of the party said to me in a confidential whisper: "There's plenty of _Kasha_, your Honour, and the soup will last us, too." "Very good," said I in a bewildered voice.

At the strange accent the soldier looked at me, and then I looked at the soldier.

The soldier was a stranger to me (a pleasant round man with a huge smiling mouth and two chins) and I was a stranger to the soldier.
"Well," said the soldier, looking, "I thought...." "I thought--" said I, most uncomfortable.
The soldiers vanished back into the darknesses round the kitchen.

Voices, whispering, could be heard.
"Now, that's the end," thought I."I'm shot as a German spy." I looked at the soldiers, clustered like bees round the kitchen, then I slipped through the gate into the dark road.
I stood there listening.

The battle seemed to have drawn away, because I could hear rifles, machine-guns, cannon muffled round a corner of the hill.