at Lens, three weeks ago. It was the eleventh; that's twenty days
since."

I look at him, astounded. But he looks like one who is speaking the
truth. He talks in sputters at my side. as we walk in the increasing
light--

"They told us--you remember, perhaps--but you weren't there, I
believe--they told us the wire had got to be strengthened in front
of the Billard Trench. You know what that means, eh? They hadn't
been able to do it till then. As soon as one gets out of the trench
he's on a downward slope, that's got a funny name."

"The Toboggan."

"Yes, that's it; and the place is as bad by night or in fog as in
broad daylight, because of the rifles trained on it before hand on
trestles, and the machine-guns that they point during the day. When
they can't see any more, the Boches sprinkle the lot.

"They took the pioneers of the C.H.R., hut there were some missing,
and they replaced 'em with a few poilus. I was one of 'em. Good. We
climb out. Not a single rifle-shot! 'What does it mean?' we says,
and behold. we see a Boche, two Boches, three Boches, coming out of
the ground--the gray devils!--and they make signs to us and shout
'Kamarad!' 'We're Alsatians,' they says. coming more and more out of
their communication trench--the International. 'They won't fire on
you, up there,' they says; 'don't be afraid, friends. Just let us
bury our dead.' And behold us working aside of each other, and even
talking together since they were from Alsace. And to tell the truth,