‘You want to get the ball out into the loose, an’ keep it movin’,’ he said by way of metaphor; and they seemed to relish it, even if they didn’t quite understand how it applied.

Then they went back to their several companies, with orders to assemble at nine o’clock by the junction of Delaunay and Monk trenches. Weeper and Bourne were alone together after a few paces.

‘What ’opes ’ave us poor buggers got!’ exclaimed Weeper.

‘Why did you come, Smart? I thought it awfully decent of you,’ said Bourne.

‘When a seed that fuckin’ slave-driver look at ’ee, a said to mysen, A’m comin’. A’ll always say this for thee, tha’lt share all th’ast got wi’ us’ns, and tha’ don’t call a man by any foolish nicknames. A’m comin’. ’t won’t be the first bloody raid a’ve been out on, lad. An’ ’t won’t be t’ last. Th’ast no cause to worry. A can look after mysen, aye, an’ thee too, lad. You leave it to me.’

He was always the same; determination only made him more desperate. Bourne thought for a moment, and then, lifting his head, turned to his companion.

‘I don’t suppose Captain Marsden meant to put things that way, you know, Smart. It’s just his manner. He would always do what he thought right.’

Weeper turned on him a fierce but pitying glance.

‘Th’art a bloody fool,’ was all he said.

It was enough. Bourne laughed softly to himself. He had always felt some instinctive antipathy against his company-commander.

‘I’ll show the bastard,’ he said to himself in his own mind; ‘if I get a chance.’

Chance. They were all balanced, equally, on a dangerous chance. One was not free, and therefore there would be very little merit in anything they might do. He followed Weeper down into the dug-out.

Sergeant-Major Tozer was at the foot of the stairs, with Corporal Jakes.

‘You want to look after yourself, see?’ Tozer said, seriously. ‘Captain ’ad no right sendin’ you like that.’

‘’e’s no bloody bottle, anyway,’ said Jakes.

‘You don’t want to talk like that,’ said the sergeant-major, and then, turning to Bourne: ‘There’s a drop of ’ot tea there, wi’ a tot o’ rum in it, you can ’ave if you like.’

‘No, thanks, Sergeant-Major,’ said Bourne; ‘but keep my ration for when I get back. And don’t worry about me. I’m all right. I want to go.’

He knew that he did, then, very definitely. It was a part of his road, to whatever place it might lead; and he went to sit down by Weeper Smart. They talked together a little, not very much. They did not talk to anyone else; but, from time to time, one of the other men would look at them in a kind of disinterested speculation.