Claude and his party found themselves back at the foot of the hill, at the edge of the ravine from which they had started.  Heavy firing on the hill above told them the rest of the men had got through.  The quickest way back to the scene of action was by the same water-course they had climbed before.  They dropped into it and started up.  Claude, at the rear, felt the ground rise under him, and he was swept with a mountain of earth and rock down into the ravine.

He never knew whether he lost consciousness or not.  It seemed to him that he went on having continuous sensations.  The first, was that of being blown to pieces; of swelling to an enormous size under intolerable pressure, and then bursting.  Next he felt himself shrink and tingle, like a frost-bitten body thawing out.  Then he swelled again, and burst.  This was repeated, he didn’t know how often.  He soon realized that he was lying under a great weight of earth; his body, not his head.  He felt rain falling on his face.  His left hand was free, and still attached to his arm.  He moved it cautiously to his face.  He seemed to be bleeding from the nose and ears.  Now he began to wonder where he was hurt; he felt as if he were full of shell splinters.  Everything was buried but his head and left shoulder.  A voice was calling from somewhere below.

“Are any of you fellows alive?”

Claude closed his eyes against the rain beating in his face.  The same voice came again, with a note of patient despair.

“If there’s anybody left alive in this hole, won’t he speak up?  I’m badly hurt myself.”

That must be the new doctor; wasn’t his dressing station somewhere down here?  Hurt, he said.  Claude tried to move his legs a little.  Perhaps, if he could get out from under the dirt, he might hold together long enough to reach the doctor.  He began to wriggle and pull.  The wet earth sucked at him; it was painful business.  He braced himself with his elbows, but kept slipping back.

“I’m the only one left, then?” said the mournful voice below.

At last Claude worked himself out of his burrow, but he was unable to stand.  Every time he tried to stand, he got faint and seemed to burst again.  Something was the matter with his right ankle, too—­he couldn’t bear his weight on it.  Perhaps he had been too near the shell to be hit; he had heard the boys tell of such cases.  It had exploded under his feet and swept him down into the ravine, but hadn’t left any metal in his body.  If it had put anything into him, it would have put so much that he wouldn’t be sitting here speculating.  He began to crawl down the slope on all fours.  “Is that the Doctor?  Where are you?”

“Here, on a stretcher.  They shelled us.  Who are you?  Our fellows got up, didn’t they?”

“I guess most of them did.  What happened back here?”

“I’m afraid it’s my fault,” the voice said sadly.  “I used my flash light, and that must have given them the range.  They put three or four shells right on top of us.  The fellows that got hurt in the gully kept stringing back here, and I couldn’t do anything in the dark.  I had to have a light to do anything.  I just finished putting on a Johnson splint when the first shell came.  I guess they’re all done for now.”