Not a quarter-mile away—­across No Man’s Land and athwart two barriers of barbed wire—­lay a series of German trenches.  Now, in all probability, and from all outward signs, the occupants of this boche position consisted only of a regiment or two which had been so badly cut up, in a foiled drive, as to need a month of non-exciting routine before going back into more perilous service.

Yet the commander of the division to which the “Here-We-Comes” were attached did not trust to probabilities nor to outward signs.  He had been at the front long enough to realize that the only thing likely to happen was the thing which seemed unlikeliest.  And he felt a morbid curiosity to learn more about the personnel of those dormant German trenches.

Wherefore he had sent an order that a handful of the “Here-We-Comes” go forth into No Man’s Land, on the first favorable night, and try to pick up a boche prisoner or two for questioning-purposes.  A scouring of the doubly wired area between the hostile lines might readily harvest some solitary sentinel or some other man on special duty, or even the occupants of a listening-post.  And the division commander earnestly desired to question such prisoner or prisoners.  The fog furnished an ideal night for such an expedition.

Thus it was that a very young lieutenant and Sergeant Mahan and ten privates—­the lanky Missourian among them—­were detailed for the prisoner-seeking job.  At eleven o’clock, they crept over the top, single file.

It was a night wherein a hundred searchlights and a million star-flares would not have made more impression on the density of the fog than would the striking of a safety match.  Yet the twelve reconnoiterers were instructed to proceed in the cautious manner customary to such nocturnal expeditions into No Man’s Land.  They moved forward at the lieutenant’s order, tiptoeing abreast, some twenty feet apart from one another, and advancing in three-foot strides.  At every thirty steps the entire line was required to halt and to reestablish contact—­in other words, to “dress” on the lieutenant, who was at the extreme right.

This maneuver was more time-wasting and less simple than its recital would imply.  For in the dark, unaccustomed legs are liable to miscalculation in the matter of length of stride, even when shell-holes and other inequalities of ground do not complicate the calculations still further.  And it is hard to maintain a perfectly straight line when moving forward through choking fog and over scores of obstacles.

The halts for realignment consumed much time and caused no little confusion.  Nervousness began to encompass the Missouri recruit.  He was as brave as the next man.  But there is something creepy about walking with measured tread through an invisible space, with no sound but the stealthy pad-pad-pad of equally hesitant footsteps twenty feet away on either side.  The Missourian was grateful for the intervals that brought the men into mutual contact, as the eerie march continued.