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chance
that his captor offered by a similar momentary lifting of his eyes.
Macalister set his eyes on the other, determined that no such chance
should be missed again.
But now, above the thunder of the artillery and of the bursting shells,
they could hear the sound of rising rifle-fire. The officer must have
glimpsed the hope in Macalister's face, and, with an oath, he brought
the pistol up level again.
"Do not cheat yourself," he said. "You cannot escape. If a charge comes
I shall shoot you first."
With a sinking heart Macalister saw that his last slender hope was gone.

He could only pray that for the moment no attack was to be launched;
but then, just when it seemed that the tide of hope was at its lowest ebb,
the fates flung him another chance--a chance that for the moment
looked like no chance; looked, indeed, like a certainty of sudden death.
A soft, whistling hiss sounded in the air above them, a note different
from the shrill whine and buzz of bullets, the harsh rush and shriek of
the shells. The next instant a dark object fell with a swoosh and thump
in the bottom of the trench, rolled a little and lay still, spitting a jet of
fizzing sparks and wreathing smoke.
When a live bomb falls in a narrow trench it is almost certain that
everyone in that immediate section will at the worst die suddenly, at the
best be badly wounded. Sometimes a bomb may be picked up and
thrown clear before it can burst, but the man who picks it up is
throwing away such chance as he has of being only wounded for the
smaller chance of having time to pitch the bomb clear. The first instinct
of every man is to remove himself from that particular traverse; the
teaching of experience ought to make him throw himself flat on the
ground, since by far the greater part of the force and fragments from the
explosion clear the ground by a foot or two. Of the Germans in this
particular section of trench some followed one plan, some the other. Of
the two men guarding the prisoner the one who was near the corner of
the traverse leapt round it, the other whirled himself round behind
Macalister and crouched sheltering behind his body. Two men near the
corner of the other traverse disappeared round it, two more flung
themselves violently on their faces, and another leapt into the opening
of the communication trench. The officer, without hesitation, dropped
on his face, his head pressed close behind the sandbag on which he had
been sitting.
The whole of these movements happened, of course, in the twinkling of
an eye. Macalister's thoughts had been so full of his plans for the
destruction of the officer that the advent of the bomb merely switched
these plans in a new direction. His first realized thought was of the man
crouching beside and clinging to him, the quick following instinct to
free himself of this check to his movements. He was still on his knees,
with the man on his left side; without attempting to rise he twisted

round and backwards, and drove his fist full force in the other's face;
the man's head crashed back against the trench wall, and his limp body
collapsed and rolled sideways. His mind still running in the groove of
his set purpose, before his captor's relaxed fingers had well loosed their
grip, Macalister hurled himself across the trench and fastened his
ferocious grip on the body of the officer. He rose to his feet, lifting the
man with a jerking wrench, and swung him round. The swift idea had
come to him that by hurling the officer's body on top of the bomb, and
holding him there, he would at least make sure of his vengeance, might
even escape himself the fragments and full force of the shock. Even in
the midst of the swing he checked, glanced once at the spitting fuse,
and with a stoop and a heave flung the officer out over the front parapet,
leaped on the firing step, and hurled himself over after him.
It must be remembered that the burning fuse of a bomb gives no
indication of the length that remains to burn before it explodes the
charge. The fuse looks like a short length of thin black rope, its outer
cover does not burn and the same stream of sparks and smoke pours
from its end in the burning of the first inch and of the last. There was
nothing, then, to show Macalister whether the explosion would come
before his quick muscles could complete their movement, or whether
long seconds would elapse before the bomb burst. It was an even
chance either