doubted very much if he would really leave so much of his front
entirely unguarded.

Next moment the solution of the puzzle was in his very hand--in the
form of a stout cord stretching from right to left. He was just in
time to avoid tripping over it. It was suspended about six inches
above the ground.

You cannot follow a clue in two directions at once; so after a little
consideration M'Snape turned and crawled along to his right, being
careful to avoid touching the cord. Presently a black mass loomed
before him, acting apparently as terminus to the cord. Lying flat on
his stomach, in order to get as much as possible of this obstacle
between his eyes and the sky, M'Snape was presently able to descry,
plainly silhouetted against the starry landscape, the profile of one
Bain, a scout of A Company, leaning comfortably against a small bush,
and presumably holding the end of the cord in his hand.

M'Snape wriggled silently away, and paused to reflect. Then he began
to creep forward once more.

Having covered fifty yards, he turned to his right again, and
presently found himself exactly between Bain and the trenches. As he
expected, his hand now descended upon another cord, lying loosely on
the ground, and running at right angles to the first. Plainly Bain
was holding one end of this, and some one in the trenches--Captain
Wagstaffe himself, as like as not--was holding the other. If an enemy
stumbled over the trip-cord, Bain would warn the defence by twitching
the alarm-cord.