He nodded, and beckoned Joan to follow him up the slippery steps.
"It is breakfast time," he explained, as they emerged into the air.

"We leave each other alone for half an hour--even the snipers.

But we must be careful." She followed in his footsteps, stooping so low that her hands could have touched the ground.

They had to be sure that they did not step off the narrow track marked with white stones, lest they should be drowned in the mud.

They passed the head of a dead horse.