The talk was in tense whispers, and the listening was now of the same tenseness. Two khaki-clad Sammies stood on the alert in the muddy ditch, dignified by the title, "trench," and tried to pierce the darkness that was like a pall of black velvet over everything. "I somedings hears, too," spoke a guttural voice, with a foreign accent. "Might not it perhaps be--"…
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