Wherefore he had sent an order that a handful of the "Here-We-
Comes" go forth into No Man's Land, on the first favorable night,
and try to pick up a boche prisoner or two for questioning-
purposes. A scouring of the doubly wired area between the hostile
lines might readily harvest some solitary sentinel or some other
man on special duty, or even the occupants of a listening-post.
And the division commander earnestly desired to question such
prisoner or prisoners. The fog furnished an ideal night for such
an expedition.

Thus it was that a very young lieutenant and Sergeant Mahan and
ten privates--the lanky Missourian among them--were detailed for
the prisoner-seeking job. At eleven o'clock, they crept over the
top, single file.

It was a night wherein a hundred searchlights and a million star-
flares would not have made more impression on the density of the
fog than would the striking of a safety match. Yet the twelve
reconnoiterers were instructed to proceed in the cautious manner
customary to such nocturnal expeditions into No Man's Land. They
moved forward at the lieutenant's order, tiptoeing abreast, some
twenty feet apart from one another, and advancing in three-foot
strides. At every thirty steps the entire line was required to
halt and to reestablish contact--in other words, to "dress" on
the lieutenant, who was at the extreme right.

This maneuver was more time-wasting and less simple than its
recital would imply. For in the dark, unaccustomed legs are
liable to miscalculation in the matter of length of stride, even