cross that spot you come within his range. He'll put a bullet through
you before you can level a rifle or press a trigger."

"I'll not go that way," said the man.

"What is your plan?"

"You know that salient yonder on the right? I'm going out of the trench
there."

"When?"

"Now. I'll wrap myself in white. That little run of coppice will cover
me until I get within a few feet of him, then I'll have to chance it."

"Wish I could help you, old man. I'd like to get that man. He's shot six
of the best fellows in the company and--"

"You can help me by making a diversion to attract his attention. Keep
him looking at that alley."

A few moments later the soldier shrouded in white crept out of the
trench and noiselessly rolled down the slope to the bushes. The snow was
deep on the ground. There was no touch of color about the soldier. He
even thrust his rifle under the linen in which he had wrapped himself.
Outside the shelter of the trenches the wind blew with terrific force.
It was terribly cold. He had discarded his overcoat for freedom of
motion. Only his indomitable resolution kept him alive. He locked his
jaws together to keep his teeth from chattering. The ice-covered snow
under his bare hands almost blistered the flesh as he crept along.