"I thought I had fixed that Boche," murmured Bertie in a disappointed
voice. "I heard him grunt when my bullet hit him. Perhaps this is
another one--or several. Keep back in the tunnel, Howie, confound you,
and don't breathe up my sleeve! They are firing straight along the
gallery now. I will return the compliment. Ouch!"

"What's the matter, sirr?" inquired the anxious voice of Howie, as his
officer, who had tried to fire round the corner with his left hand,
gave a sudden exclamation and rolled over upon his side.

"I must have been hit the first time," he explained. "Collar-bone, I
think. I didn't know, till I rested my weight on my left elbow....
Howie, I am going to exercise my discretion again. Somebody in this
gallery is going to be blown up presently, and if you and I don't get
a move on, p.d.q., it will be us! Give me the fuse-lighter, and wait
for me at the foot of the shaft. Quick!"

Very reluctantly the Corporal obeyed. However, he was in due course
joined at the foot of the shaft by Bertie the Badger, groaning
profanely; and the pair made their way to the upper regions with all
possible speed. After a short interval, a sudden rumbling, followed by
a heavy explosion, announced that the fuse had done its work, and
that the Piccadilly Tube, the fruit of many toilsome weeks of Boche
calculation and labour, had been permanently closed to traffic of all
descriptions.

Bertie the Badger received a Military Cross, and his abettor the
D.C.M.