“It hasn’t happened yet,” said Bobby stoutly.

Captain Wagstaffe knew better.  His more experienced eye and ear had detected the fact that the position of the regiment upon the left was already turned.  But he said nothing.

Presently the tall figure of the Colonel was seen, advancing in leisurely fashion along the trench, stopping here and there to exchange a word with a private or a sergeant.

“The regiment on the left may have to fall back, men,” he was saying.  “We, of course, will stand fast, and cover their retirement.”

This most characteristic announcement was received with a matter-of-fact “Varra good, sir,” from its recipients, and the Colonel passed on to where the two officers were standing.

“Hallo, Wagstaffe,” he said; “good-morning!  We shall get some very pretty shooting presently.  The enemy are massing on our left front, down behind those cottages.  How are things going on our right?”

“They are holding their own, sir.”

“Good!  Just tell Ayling to get his guns trained.  But doubtless he has done so already.  I must get back to the other flank.”

And back to the danger-spot our C.O. passed—­an upright, gallant figure, saying little, exhorting not at all, but instilling confidence and cheerfulness by his very presence.

Half-way along the trench he encountered Major Kemp.

“How are things on the left, sir?” was the Major’s sotto voce inquiry.

“Not too good.  Our position is turned.  We have been promised reinforcements, but I doubt if they can get up in time.  Of course, when it comes to falling back, this regiment goes last.”

“Of course, sir.”

IV

Highlanders!  Four hundred yards!  At the enemy advancing half-left, rapid fire!

Twenty minutes had passed.  The regiment still stood immovable, though its left flank was now utterly exposed.  All eyes and rifles were fixed upon the cluster of cottages.  Through the gaps that lay between these could be discerned the advance of the German infantry—­line upon line, moving towards the trench upon our left.  The ground to our front was clear.  Each time one of these lines passed a gap the rifles rang out and Ayling’s remaining machine-gun uttered joyous barks.  Still the enemy advanced.  His shrapnel was bursting overhead; bullets were whistling from nowhere, for the attack in force was now being pressed home in earnest.

The deserted trench upon our left ran right through the cottages, and this restricted our view.  No hostile bombers could be seen; it was evident that they had done their bit and handed on the conduct of affairs to others.  Behind the shelter of the cottages the infantry were making a safe detour, and were bound, unless something unexpected happened, to get round behind us.

“They’ll be firing from our rear in a minute,” said Kemp between his teeth.  “Lochgair, order your platoon to face about and be ready to fire over the parados.”