Thus are craters consolidated; each side holds the lip nearest to them, and hurls curses and bombs at his opponents on the other. The distance between the sapheads is perhaps twenty or twenty–five yards, instead of the hundred odd of the parent fire–trenches; and any closer acquaintanceship is barred by the egg–cup crater, which stretches between them.
“Keep down, sir—well down. Lot of sniping to–day.” A sergeant of the South Loamshires whispered hoarsely to the Sapper as he reached the end of the sap—it is etiquette to whisper in a sap. Three men inside the recess were drinking tea with the calmness born of long custom, while lying on his side, with a periscope to his eye, was Jackson, the subaltern.
“Anything fresh, Jacko?” muttered the Sapper, crouching down beside him.
“Yes—I think
