before, which had broken the line and penetrated for four miles.
There it had been stayed by a forlorn hope of cooks, brakesmen, and
officers' servants, and disaster had been most gloriously retrieved.
What was going to happen this time? One thing was certain: the day of
stink-pots was over.

"When do you think they'll attack?" shouted Bobby to Wagstaffe,
battling against the noise of bursting shells.

"Quite soon--in a minute or two. Their guns will stop directly--to
lift their sights and set up a barrage behind us. Then, perhaps the
Boche will step over his parapet. Perhaps not!"

The last sentence rang out with uncanny distinctness, for the German
guns with one accord had ceased firing. For a full two minutes there
was absolute silence, while the bayonets in the opposite trenches
twinkled with tenfold intent.

Then, from every point in the great Salient of Ypres, the British guns
replied.

Possibly the Imperial General Staff at Berlin had been misinformed as
to the exact strength of the British Artillery. Possibly they had been
informed by their Intelligence Department that Trades Unionism, had
ensured that a thoroughly inadequate supply of shells was to hand in
the Salient. Or possibly they had merely decided, after the playful
habit of General Staffs, to let the infantry in the trenches take
their chance of any retaliation that might be forthcoming.

Whatever these great men were expecting, it is highly improbable that