"Now, Howie," said Bertie the Badger, fingering the fuse, "what about
it?"

"About what, sirr?" inquired Howie, who was not quite _au fait_ with
current catch-phrases.

"Are we going to touch off all this stuff now, and clear out, or are
we going to wait and see?"

"I would like fine--" began the Corporal wistfully.

"So would I," said Bertie. "Tell the men to get back and out; and you
and I will hold on until the guests return from the banquet."

"Varra good, sirr."

For another half-hour the pair waited--Bertie the Badger like a dog in
its kennel, with his head protruding into the hostile gallery, while
his faithful henchman crouched close behind him. Deathly stillness
reigned, relieved only by an occasional thud, as a shell or
trench-mortar bomb exploded upon the ground above their heads.

"I'm going to have another look round the corner," said Bertie at
last. "Hold on to the fuse."

He handed the end of the fuse to his subordinate, and having wormed
his way out of the tunnel, proceeded cautiously on all-fours along the
gallery. On his way he passed the electric light. He twisted off the
bulb and crawled on in the dark.