CHAPTER VI
BAGGING A SNIPER
The village being within easy range of the German guns, its immunityfrom bombardment struck the officers of the battalion as rather strange.For a few days, it is true, the enemy might have been unaware thatBritish troops were in occupation; but a German aeroplane, a dove-wingedTaube, had been observed to fly over the place, and it could hardly bedoubted that information of their presence had been carried toheadquarters. All that the soldiers knew of warfare for two or threeweeks was the dull boom of distant guns, the passage of ambulancesoccasionally and of supply wagons frequently, and the passing of railwaytrains conveying new howitzers and field guns along the line a mile ortwo away.
The call to action came unexpectedly. One evening, just after supper,the men were ordered to parade in full marching kit. They overflowedfrom the little market square into the adjacent streets, and there theywere inspected by the colonel, who passed up and down the ranks with anorderly carrying a lantern.
When the inspection was finished, the colonel posted himself on a tub inthe middle of the square. It was a dark night, and the flickering lightof the lantern illuminated only the lower part of the colonel's body,leaving his face in shade.
"Now, men," he said, "we are going to take a spell in the trenches. Wehave several miles to march; there must be no straggling, or you'llpitch into Jack Johnson holes in the road. No talking, no smoking. Iknow you'll give a good account of yourselves. We're a new battalion;we've got to make our name; and by George, we'll do it!"
The platoon commanders stifled an incipient cheer, and the battalionmarched off into the night.
Along the dark straight road they tramped, between lines of tall poplarsthat raised their skeleton shapes against the sky. For a mile or twonothing impeded their progress; then the advance guard came upon a deepcavity extending half across the road, and two men were told off to warnthe succeeding ranks of the danger. Presently they passed through ahamlet which had been shattered by the German artillery. The sides ofthe road were heaped with bricks and blackened rafters, behind whichwere the jagged walls of roofless cottages.
A little beyond this they were met by a staff officer, come to guidethem to the trenches. Then they had to ease off to one side to allowthe passage of the weary men they were relieving. At length they cameto a small clump of woodland, and learnt that the trenches were on thefurther side of it. Section by section they passed into the shelter ofthe trees, stepping across trunks felled and split by shells, and slidnoiselessly into the narrow zig-zag ditches where they were to eat andsleep and spend weary days and nights.
Kennedy and his platoon, among whom were Kenneth, Harry, Ginger, andtheir pals, found themselves in a narrow passage about 4 ft. 6 in. deep,with a loopholed parapet facing eastward, and here and there littlecabins dug out in the banks, boarded, strewn with straw, warm andstuffy. In the darkness it was impossible to take complete stock oftheir surroundings, but learning that in a dug-out it was safe to strikea light, Kenneth lit a candle-end, and was amused to see that hispredecessor in the little cabin to which he had come had chalked up"Ritz Hotel" on the boarding.
The men were too much excited to think of sleeping. They had learnt onthe way up that the position they were to hold was rather a hot place.The Germans in their front, only a few hundred yards away, were veryactive and full of tricks. They watched the British trenches with lynxeyes, and so sure as the top of a cap showed above the parapet it becamethe mark for a dozen rifles. There were night snipers, too, somewhere inthe neighbourhood, constantly dropping bullets on their invisibletarget. The men who had just left the trenches had been much worried bythese snipers, whom they had failed to locate; but they had reason tobelieve that the pestilent marksmen were hidden somewhere behind thelines.
"You're safe enough so long as you keep your heads down," said theofficer who directed Kennedy to his position. "Except for the sniperswe have had little trouble lately; and I hope you'll have a good time."
Kennedy told off his men to keep watch in turn through the night. Whileoff duty they sat in the dug-outs chatting quietly, listening for soundsfrom the enemy's trenches, wondering what was in store for them whendaylight came. Fortunately the wet weather had ceased; the bottom ofthe trench was still sticky, but the March winds were rapidly drying theground. The night was cold, but there was a brazier in each dug-out,and the men, crouching over these in their great-coats, contrived tokeep warm and comfortable.
They watched eagerly for daylight. At the first peep of dawn some ofthe men were told off to the loopholes. About thirty yards in frontthere stretched a wire entanglement, with small cans dangling from ithere and there. Two or three hundred yards beyond this they saw thesimilar entanglement of the Germans. For about a hundred yards of theline this wire was more remote, and the men learnt afterwards that apond of that breadth filled a declivity in the ground. Here and there,all round the position at varying distances, stood isolated farmhouses,trees, and patches of woodland. All was peaceful; no sound of war brokethe stillness of the fair March morning.
They had their breakfast of cocoa and bread and jam. Towards noon twomen from each section were told off to go back to a farm house behindthe lines for the day's rations. They hurried along the trench in acrouching posture, struck into a communicating trench leading to therear, and emerged on the outskirts of the wood. There was instantly thecrack of a rifle. A sniper had begun his day's work. The men waiteduneasily, clutching their rifles, wondering if any of their comrades hadbeen hit. Kennedy posted his men a yard apart along the trench, readyto fire at the first sign of movement among the enemy. The zig-zagformation of the trench prevented any man from seeing more than the menof his own section, and there came upon them a feeling of loneliness andalmost individual responsibility.
In about an hour's time Kenneth and his comrades were relieved to seetheir food-carriers returning with steaming pails. These contained asort of hash mixed with beans and potatoes. The men poured this intotheir billies, warmed them at the braziers, and acknowledged that theirdinner of Irish stew a la Francaise wasn't half bad. After that food wascarried up only at night.
The day passed uneventfully. A rifle-shot was heard now and then; froma distant part of the line came the continual rumble of artillery-fire;once they caught sight of a British aeroplane far away to thenorth-east, with little patches of white smoke following it, hugging it.There was nothing to do except to keep a continual look-out.
But at dusk the reality of their danger was brought home to them.Cramped with the fatigue of maintaining a bending-posture one of the mengot up to stretch himself. "Keep down!" shouted Kennedy, but it was toolate. There was a slight whizz; the man fell headlong. Kenneth ran tohim, as the crack of the rifle was heard. Nothing could be done. Thebullet had pierced the man's brain.
When it was dark Kenneth and Ginger carried their dead comrade throughthe trenches to the wood, and buried him there among the trees. Theyreturned in silence to their post.
"You'll write to his mother," said Ginger, as they got back. "She'lllike to know as how poor Dick has been put away decent."
"Yes, I'll write," said Kenneth. "He felt no pain."
"War's a cursed thing," Ginger broke out. "What call have these Kaisersand people to murder young chaps like Dick, all for their ownselfishness?--that's what it comes to. It didn't ought to be, and 'ponmy soul, it beats me why us millions of working men don't put a stop toit. We're in it now; I'll do my bit; but seems to me the world would beall the better if they'd just string up a few of the emperors and such,them as thinks war's such a mighty fine thing."
Their first loss threw a cloud upon the spirits of the men. But it didnot lessen their resolution. Direct knowledge, slight though it was atpresent, of the grim realities of war braced their courage. Alreadythey had a comrade's death to avenge. To the more thoughtful of themthe dead man represented a blow struck at their country, and they sawmore c
learly than before that it was their country's service that hadcalled them here.
Their spell in the trenches was to last two days. They were days ofinaction, discomfort, tedium. Apart from intermittent sniping theGermans made no movement. The Rutlands kept incessant watch on them,with no relaxation until the fall of night. Even then they were not atease. Sniping was kept up fitfully through the night, and they learntthat even in the darkness there was peril is rising to stretch theircramped limbs. At dusk on the first day a man was slightly wounded.These sneaking tactics, as they considered them, on the part of anunseen enemy worried and irritated the men. Whenever a shot was heard,they tried to estimate its direction, but their guesses were socontradictory that no definite opinion could be arrived at. On oneoccasion Kenneth tried to calculate the distance of the marksman bynoting the interval that elapsed between the whistling sound of thebullet and the subsequent report of the rifle; but neither his data norhis watch were sufficiently accurate to give him much satisfaction. Theone thing that seemed certain was that the night sniping was donesomewhere behind the lines.
When the battalion was relieved, and returned to billets for a couple ofdays' rest, officers and men talked of little but the sniping. Theythought that nothing could be more demoralising, having as yet had noexperience of heavy gun-fire. The officers discussed the possibility ofgetting hold of the snipers, and determined to take serious steps tothat end on their next turn of duty at the trenches.
An opportunity seemed to offer itself on their second day back. Therehad been a good deal of sniping overnight, and in the morning Kennethhappened to notice what appeared to be a bullet-hole on the inner sideof the parapet. He at once called Captain Adams' attention to it.
"That's proof positive," said the captain. "The sniper is behind us."
"It seems odd that he should fire on the mere chance of hittingsomebody, for of course he can't take aim in the dark," said Kenneth.
"He's got our range, of course, knows we've no rear parapet yet, andguesses that we move about more freely after dark. But we ought to beable to locate him now. Stick your bayonet carefully into the hole,Amory; we'll get a hint of the direction of the bullet's flight."
The bullet had penetrated some little distance into the earth. Kennethprobed the hole with his bayonet, and it seemed pretty certain that theshot had been fired from the left rear, and, judging by the angle ofincidence, from a considerable distance, probably not less than a mile.
Captain Adams scanned the ground in that direction through his fieldglasses. About a mile to the left rear stood a small copse. Slanting arifle towards it, and comparing the angle with that of the hole made bythe bullet, the captain decided that the copse was too far to the right,and swept his glasses towards the left. The only other likely spot wasthe ruins of a farm, but that seemed too far to the left. Between farmand copse ran a low railway embankment, which appeared almost exactly tomeet the conditions.
"The sniper is there or thereabouts," said the captain. "Are you gameto do a little scouting to-night, Amory?"
"Anything you like, sir," Kenneth replied.
"Well, creep out to-night and see if you can make anything of it. Itwould be safer to go alone, perhaps, but on the other hand a littlesupport may be useful, so you had better take another man--Murgatroyd,say: he's an active man, and not too tall. You must have your witsabout you."
Ginger was delighted at the chance of doing something. The other menenvied him, and Harry looked a trifle sulky.
"Cheer up, old man," said Kenneth. "Your turn will come some day."
At dusk Kenneth and Ginger, the former carrying a revolver supplied bythe captain, the latter armed only with his bayonet, made their waythrough the communication trenches to the second line of entrenchmentsand thence to the road leading to the village. They waited untilcomplete darkness had fallen before stepping openly on to the road. TheGermans had the range of it, and knowing that it was used after dark byBritish troops moving to and from the trenches, they might startshelling at any moment.
"We'll leave the road as soon as possible," said Kenneth, as they setoff, "and bear away to the left."
"The right, you mean," said Ginger.
"No, the left, and work our way round. We'll take a leaf out of theGermans' book; they prefer flank attacks to front. We've plenty oftime."
It was very dark. They struck off to the left across fields, and pickedtheir way as well as they could, stumbling now and then into holes andover broken relics of former engagements. They could only guessdistance. Kenneth took the time by his luminous watch, and allowing forthe detour, when they had walked for twenty minutes he bore to theright, crossed the deserted road, and peered through the darkness forthe ruined farm and the railway embankment. No trains had run beyond thevillage for a considerable time, and it was known that the permanent wayhad been cut up by German shells.
Moving purely by guesswork they failed to find the farm, but after atime came suddenly upon the embankment, and halted.
"Right or left?" whispered Kenneth.
"The farm?" returned Ginger.
"Yes."
"Right, I should say."
At this moment a shell burst in the air some distance to their right,whether from a British or a German gun they could not tell. It lit upthe country momentarily like a flash of lightning, and as the two meninstinctively flung themselves down, they caught sight of the ruins somedistance on their right hand. The illumination was over in a second,leaving the sky blacker than before.
They waited a little, wondering whether the shell was herald of a nightattack. But the shot was not repeated. The country was silent.
"Just to let us know they ain't gone home yet," Ginger whispered.
"We'll make for the farm," said Kenneth in equally low tones. "Thesniper hasn't begun work yet; I haven't heard any rifle shots abouthere. We'll separate when we get to the place, and approach it fromopposite sides."
Very cautiously they groped their way across the open field towards thefarm house, and when they caught sight of it, bent down under cover of ahedge, and crept on almost by inches. Then, leaving Ginger near thebroken gate of the farmyard, Kenneth stole away to make a completecircuit of the place.
In ten minutes he returned.
"It's a mere shell," he whispered. "The roof is gone, except in onecorner; there are heaps of rubble everywhere, rafters lying at allangles, and furniture smashed to splinters."
"Did you go inside?"
"No, but I think we might risk it. Look out you don't get a sprainedankle."
They crept through the yard, over the rubbish, and into what had beenthe house. Kenneth had an electric torch, but dared not use it. Theyhalted frequently to peer and listen, then went on again, doing theirutmost to avoid any disturbance of the broken masonry and woodwork.Before they had completed their examination of the premises, the crackof a rifle at no great distance away caused them to abandon the searchand hurry into the open again.
Outside, they waited for a repetition of the shot to give them a clue.It was some time before it came. At length there was a dull rumble ofdistant artillery, and in the midst of it a sound like a muffledrifle-shot from the direction of the railway.
"He's a clever chap," whispered Kenneth. "I hadn't noticed it before,but I think he waits for the sound of firing elsewhere before he fireshimself--a precaution against being spotted. Let us wait for the next."
Presently there was the rattle of musketry from the trenches far to theleft. Before it had died away, a single rifle cracked much nearer athand.
"From the railway, sure enough," said Ginger. "We'll cop him."
They hurried across the field to the embankment, crawled up it, and whentheir eyes reached the level of the track, they peered up and down theline. They could see only a few yards, so dark was the night. There wasno glint even from the rails, which were rusty from disuse. Afterlistening a while, they crept up on to the track, and waited for anothershot to guide them.
It
was long in coming. To move before knowing the direction would beuseless and might be dangerous, so, curbing their impatience, they layon the slope of the embankment.
At last they heard the whirr of an aeroplane. Having learnt to expect ashot from the sniper when it was masked by some other sound, they sprangup. The humming drew nearer; then came the single sharp rifle crack.
"Behind us!" whispered Kenneth.
With great caution the two men moved along the track, stepping oversleepers and rails torn up, and skirting deep holes made by shells.Every now and again they stopped to listen. Presently they were broughtto a sudden halt by the sound of a rifle-shot apparently almost beneaththem. Dropping to the ground, they peeped over the embankment. At thisspot there had been a landslip, evidently caused by a heavy shell. Atthe foot of the embankment lay a pool of water, extending for sometwenty yards. Except for these nothing was to be seen.
They felt rather uncomfortable. On this bare embankment, rising from anequally bare plain, there seemed to be no cover of any kind. Yet it wascertain that a sniper was within a few yards of them, perhaps within afew feet. They lay perfectly still, watching, waiting for another shot.It did not come. Kenneth began to wonder whether the sniper had seen orheard them, and stolen away. Or perhaps he was stalking them. At thisthought Kenneth gripped his revolver.
What was to be done? To prowl about in the darkness on the chance ofdiscovering the marksman would be mere foolhardiness. He hoped on foranother shot, not daring even to whisper to Ginger. The minuteslengthened into hours; the two men were cramped with cold; but as if bymutual consent they lay where they were. Neither was willing to go backand report failure. Now and again they caught slight sounds which theywere unable to identify or locate. They nibbled some biscuits they hadbrought with them, determined at least to await the dawn. Conscious ofdiscomfort, they had no sense of fatigue or sleepiness. And when atlength the darkness began to yield, they fancied they saw shadowyenemies on the misty plain.
When it was light enough to see clearly, they looked to right and left,to the front and the rear, and discovered no sign of life within a mileof them. The air began to fill with the roll of artillery and therattle of rifle-shots. Here and there in the distance they saw columnsof black smoke. Two aeroplanes passed overhead towards the Germanlines, and shrapnel shells strewed white puffs around and below them.But on the embankment all was quiet.
"He must have got away in the darkness," Kenneth ventured to whisper atlast.
"Can't make it out," murmured Ginger in return.
How the sniper could have escaped unseen was a mystery. Daylightrevealed the bareness of the plain. Only a few low hedges divided thefields. One such, bordered by a narrow ditch, ran northward from therailway within a few yards of them. But this could be of no use to asniper, for it was on the wrong side of the embankment, towards thenorth.
After a murmured consultation they rose to examine the embankment moreclosely, in the hope of finding tracks of the sniper. As they did so, anumber of bullets whistled around them; their figures had been seen onthe skyline by the Germans. Dropping instantly to the ground, theycrawled along, skirting the hole made by the shell, and taking care notto slide down in the loose earth that had been displaced. They coveredthus a hundred yards or so in each direction, up and down the line,without discovering anything.
"We must give it up," said Kenneth at last. "I don't like to, but I seenothing else for it."
"Our chaps are in billets to-day," said Ginger. "I'm game to stay tillto-night if you are."
"All right. We've got our emergency rations. We may as well lie up inthe farm, and take turns to sleep."
They crawled across the track to the British side of the embankment,slid down the slope, and being now safe from German shots began to walkerect along the bottom, following a slight curve in the direction of thefarm. The less of open field they had to cross, the better.
They had taken only a few steps along the base of the embankment whenGinger, a little in advance of Kenneth, stopped suddenly, and stooped.Then he turned his head quickly, putting his finger to his lips. Kennethhurried up. Ginger pointed to a slight track in the grass, leadinground the low hedge before mentioned. Without hesitation they began tofollow it up, moving with infinite precaution, and bending under coverof the hedge.
Running straight for some distance, the track at last made a sharp bendto the right, then skirting another hedge parallel with the embankment.The two men were on the point of turning with it when Kenneth, in therear, happening to look behind him over the hedge, caught sight of a manabout half a mile away, coming apparently from the direction of thevillage where the Rutlands were billeted. Ginger came back at a lowcall from his companion, and they stood together at the hedge, watchingthe stranger, careful to keep out of sight themselves.
The man drew nearer. He was old and shabbily dressed. A small basketwas slung on his back. Every now and again he looked behind as iffearful of being followed. They watched him eagerly, surprised, full ofcuriosity and suspicion. His path ran along the hedge parallel with therailway, and he was screened by it from the British lines.
He came on until he had almost reached the hedge behind which the twoEnglishmen were posted. At this point there was a wide gap in the hedgethat covered him, and he turned off sharply at right angles towards therailway. Kenneth instantly guessed that he had done this to avoidobservation through the gap, that he would pass round the end of thehedge near the embankment, and follow the track by which Ginger and hehad recently come.
As the man turned, Ginger caught Kenneth by the sleeve. His eyes werebright with excitement. He seemed about to speak, but Kenneth hastilyclapped a hand over his mouth. Watching the man until he was on thepoint of turning the corner, Kenneth drew Ginger through a small gap inthe hedge parallel with the railway, and they waited there until thestranger came up to it on the track they had just left, and began towalk towards another hedge at right angles to it, which led back to theembankment almost at the spot where they had watched through the night.
They followed him quietly. He was on the inner side of the hedge, theyon the outer. They saw that he was wading along the ditch towards therailway. At the end of the hedge they stooped and peeped through a gap,to see what was going on within a few feet of them. They heard a lowwhistle, and were just in time to catch sight of the man disappearinginto a culvert that carried the ditch under the embankment.
Allowing him time to get through, they crawled through the hedge, up theembankment, over the line, and approaching the culvert from above,established themselves on top of the brickwork at the entrance. Theyheard voices from below, within the culvert. Kenneth held his revolverready, Ginger gripped his bayonet. And there they waited for one orother of the men inside to come out.
They had not long to wait. The mumble of voices came nearer. Kennethlistened intently, but could not distinguish the words until, justbeneath him, he heard "Auf Wiedersehen!" Immediately afterwards the manthey had followed waded out through the shallow water at the bottom ofthe culvert, bending almost double to avoid the arch. His basket wasgone. Just as he was about to straighten himself, Kenneth calledsternly, "Hands up!" The man swung round, saw a revolver pointed at hishead, and instantly threw up his hands, at the same time glancing rightand left as if seeking some way of escape.
"HANDS UP!"]
What were they to do with him? Within a few feet of them, in theculvert, was the sniper, a man of courage and daring, or he would nothave elected or been chosen for this particular means of serving hiscountry. Luckily Kenneth was a man of quick decision.
"Collar that fellow while I keep an eye below," he said. "Take care youdon't show against the opening."
Ginger sprang down the embankment, and approached the captive, whomKenneth covered with his revolver, at the same time keeping an eye onthe arch below. In a few seconds Ginger had made the man pull off hiscoat and waistcoat, and unfasten his braces, and with these he tied himhand and foot
.
"You'll be safe there for a bit," he said, laying the man at the foot ofthe embankment. Then he rejoined his companion.
Meanwhile Kenneth had been considering how to get the sniper out. Therehad been no sound from the culvert, but the German must be well aware ofwhat had happened. That he had not attempted to escape by the other endwas probably explained by his ignorance of the number of men he had todo with. Armed with his rifle, he might have thought himself prettysafe in the narrow culvert, where he could take heavy toll of anyassailants who should attempt a direct attack.
"We'll have to smoke him out," whispered Kenneth, as Ginger joined him."There's some straw in the farmhouse; cut back quickly and bring as muchas you can carry."
In ten minutes Ginger returned with two large bundles which he hadhimself trussed. He kindled one of the trusses, and placed it at therear end of the culvert, the quarter from which a slight breeze wasblowing. Kenneth meanwhile kept watch above the brick arch at the otherend.
The straw was somewhat damp, and made as much smoke as they could havewished. Carried by the breeze through the culvert, it floated outbeneath Kenneth, tickling his throat and causing his eyes to smart.Every moment he expected the sniper to make a rush from his unendurableposition. When a minute or two had passed without any sign of the man hewas surprised: was insensibility to smoke one of the Germansuperiorities?
"Any more straw, Ginger?" he asked.
"Another bundle," Ginger replied, and returned to the farther end tolight it.
He had only just disappeared over the edge of the embankment whenKenneth, who had been straining his ears for sounds of movements below,heard a slight displacement of ballast on the line above him. Glancingup, he found himself looking straight at the barrel of a rifle, behindwhich was a head surmounted by a German helmet.
For half a second he was paralysed with astonishment. Then a clickgalvanised him into activity. Realising that the rifle had missed fire,forgetting--like an idiot, as he afterwards confessed--that he had arevolver, he made a spring and with his left hand seized the muzzle afew feet above him. The German held fast; there was a momentary tug ofwar; then the German lost his footing on the slippery earth, fellsuddenly to a sitting posture, and slid down the embankment helplessly,driving Kenneth under him into the shallow pool of water at the foot.
Kenneth was a thought quicker than the German in recovering his wits.Wriggling sideways, he flung his arm over the man, spluttering out amouthful of muddy water, and grappled him. For a few seconds theyheaved and writhed like grampuses. Then Ginger, drawn by the splash,came running across the line, saw the struggling figures, sprang downthe embankment, and dashed his fist in the German's face. In anothermoment he had dragged the man out of the water and a foot or two up theembankment, and held him down until Kenneth had shaken himself and cometo his side.
"This beats cockfighting," he said. "Where did the beggar come from?"
"Don't know," said Kenneth. "We'll see presently. I'm nearly chokedwith mud. We'll have to use his braces too."
When they had tied the man securely, they got up to investigate. Whatthey discovered was a proof of the ingenuity which the Germans exhibitin all their undertakings. The landslide, a little to the right of theculvert, formed a sort of boss on the embankment. At the fartherextremity of this, out of sight from the spot where Kenneth had stood,the German had forced his way up from a small chamber excavated in thebase of the embankment, where he had a folding chair, a rug, a tin plateand mug, a supply of ammunition, and the basket which the visitor hadcarried. It was full of food. There were two or three inconspicuousopenings for the admission of air, and, towards the British trenches, asmall tube, and an arrangement by which the rifle could be clamped.Evidently the sniper took his sights in the daytime, and set the riflein such a position in the tube that he could fire directly on thetrenches with the certainty of having the correct aim.
"Up to snuff, ain't they, not half," said Ginger, with unwillingadmiration. "But how did you come to be wallowing in that therepuddle?"
Kenneth explained.
"My word! a lucky missfire," said Ginger.
"Lucky indeed!" replied Kenneth. "And we can't discover the cause of it;the rifle's in the mud."
"Never mind about the cause of it. We've bagged our first prisoners;that's one to us and the Rutlands."
But Kenneth was never satisfied to leave a problem unsolved. Thinkingover the matter constantly during the next few days, unwilling toascribe to luck something that must have a sufficient cause, he came tothe conclusion that the breech of the rifle had become clogged withearth as the sniper forced his way up through the landslide.
They marched their prisoners back to headquarters in the village,keeping the embankment between them and the enemy as long as possible.
"I've often seen this old rascal about the village," said Ginger,referring to the civilian. "He's a spy, that's what he is. They'llshoot him, won't they?"
"The colonel will hold an enquiry, no doubt. By George! I shall beglad to get back and dry my things and have a good feed."
They received an enthusiastic welcome from their comrades, and ColonelAppleton commended them for their successful work. The sniper was sentto the rear as a prisoner of war. An investigation was held. It cameout that the civilian who supplied him with food was a supposed refugee,and one of the pensioners of Monsieur Obernai. That gentleman wassummoned to the court of inquiry, and was overcome with horror onlearning that one of the men whom he had assisted was a spy.
"It is heart-breaking," he said. "It is enough to make one hard.Besides, it might throw suspicion on me. Still, it would not be just toabandon my humble efforts to alleviate distress because one man hasdeceived me. But in future I shall make the most careful inquiriesbefore I assist a stranger."
The spy was shot, and thereafter there was no more trouble from nightsnipers at that part of the lines.