As we had marched through the city there had been no sound of gun-fire.  All was quiet except for the welcoming cheers of our British brothers.  Silence reigned for the two hours we had spent in resting on the floor of the schoolhouse, and consequently we thought we had a snap as far as position went.

Our self-congratulations were somewhat rudely disturbed.  Of a sudden, one of our young officers rushed through the door of our shelter.  Poor laddie, he was very young and his anxiety exceeded even his nervousness.  Nervousness is very natural, I can assure you.  It is natural in a private; it is more so in the officer who feels responsibility for the lives of his men.

“Lads,” said he, with upraised hand, and obviously trying desperately to be calm, “lads, I’ve just been told that the enemy has the range of this building.  ’Twas shelled yesterday, and we are likely to be blown up any minute ... any minute, men!  I’d advise you to stay where you are.  Don’t any of you go outside, and if you don’t want to lose your lives, don’t go fooling around up-stairs.”  With that he pointed to the rickety steps that led to the second floor and disappeared through the door as fast as he had come.

For a few moments there was dead silence.  “Blow up any minute!” We looked at one another.  We sat tense.  Our very thoughts seemed petrified.  From the far corner of the room there came a sound: 

“Gee whiz!...  Gee whiz!” the voice gathered confidence.  “Gee whiz, guys”—­it was a boy from the Far West who spoke—­“I’ve come six thousand miles, and to be blown up without even seeing a German is more than I can swallow.”

“Gosh!” said I, “I wouldn’t mind being shot to-morrow morning at sunrise if I could have the satisfaction of seeing one of them first.”

Bob Marchington looked up.  He was a droll youth, and curiosity was his besetting sin.  “Say, fellows, I wonder why he told us not to go up-stairs.  I bet you there’s something to be seen from up there, or he would not have told us not to go.  Any of you boys willing to come up with me?”

No one took up the challenge.  We lay around a little longer.  Then the braver spirits commenced to deliberate on the suggestion.  Why not go up-stairs?  At last half a dozen of us decided to embark on the risky enterprise.  We were three miles from the enemy, to be sure, but a German at three miles seemed to us then something formidable.  Many a good laugh have we had since, in trench and out, at this expedition considered with so much careful thought!

We crept up the shaky steps one by one.  We crawled along the upper floor, skirting the gaping shell holes in the woodwork.  We raised our hands and shaded our eyes from the glare of the light.  We scanned the horizon.  We had an idea, I think, that we’d see a German blocking the landscape somewhere.  We were three miles away.  What was three miles to us?