Then—­

“Hallo!” exclaimed Bobby with a jerk (for he was beginning to nod), “what was that on our right?”

“I’m afraid,” replied Wagstaffe, “that it was bombs.  It was right in this trench, too, about a hundred yards long.  There must be a sap leading up there, for the bombers certainly have not advanced overground.  I’ve been looking out for them since stand-to.  Who is this anxious gentleman?”

A subaltern of the battalion on our right was forcing his way along the trench.  He addressed Wagstaffe.

“We are having a pretty bad time with Bosche bombers on our right, sir,” he said.  “Will you send us down all the bombs you can spare?”

Wagstaffe hoisted himself upon the parapet.

“I will see our C.O. at once,” he replied, and departed at the double.  It was a risky proceeding, for German bullets promptly appeared in close attendance; but he saved a good five minutes on his journey to Battalion Headquarters at the other end of the trench.

Presently the bombs began to arrive, passed from hand to hand.  Wagstaffe returned, this time along the trench.

“We shall have a tough fight for it,” he said.  “The Bosche bombers know their business, and probably have more bombs than we have.  But those boys on our right seem to be keeping their end up.”

“Can’t we do anything?” asked Bobby feverishly.

“Nothing—­unless the enemy succeed in working right down here; in which case we shall take our turn of getting it in the neck—­or giving it!  I fancy old Ayling and his popgun will have a word to say, if he can find a nice straight bit of trench.  All we can do for the present is to keep a sharp look-out in front.  I have no doubt they will attack in force when the right moment comes.”

For close on three hours the bomb-fight went on.  Little could be seen, for the struggle was all taking place upon the extreme right; but the sounds of conflict were plain enough.  More bombs were passed up, and yet more; men, some cruelly torn, were passed down.

Then a signal-sergeant doubled up across country from somewhere in rear, paying out wire, and presently the word went forth that we were in touch with the Artillery.  Directly after, sure enough, came the blessed sound and sight of British shrapnel bursting over our right front.

“That won’t stop the present crowd,” said Wagstaffe, “but it may prevent their reinforcements from coming up.  We are holding our own, Bobby.  What’s that, Sergeant?”

“The Commanding Officer, sirr,” announced Sergeant Carfrae, “has just passed up that we are to keep a sharp look-out to our left.  They’ve commenced for to bomb the English regiment now.”

“Golly, both flanks!  This is getting a trifle steep,” remarked Wagstaffe.

Detonations could now be distinctly heard upon the left.

“If they succeed in getting round behind us,” said Wagstaffe in a low voice to Bobby, “we shall have to fall back a bit, into line with the rest of the advance.  Only a few hundred yards, but it means a lot to us!”