ing his breath lest he be noticed, he edged his way
along. He had plenty of time for thought. This was not so easy a job as
he had fancied, not the physical part, but the mental strain. He could
shoot a man who was shooting at him, he could batter a man over the head
who was trying to do the same to him, but this stalking a man in cold
blood was different somehow. Cold blood! He laughed soundlessly at his
recurrent fancy. He went a little more slowly. Finally he stopped to
consider.

From the nook ahead of him in which the enemy had ensconced himself came
a sudden rapid rattle of rifle-shots. His friend back in the trench was
doing his part. The man was awake--on the alert. It would be something
of a fair fight, he thought with some little satisfaction. He surveyed
the intervening space beyond the coppice. The men in the trenches on
both sides would be awake, too. It would take him a few seconds to cross
that space and get at the man he was stalking. Could they shoot him
before that? There was some shelter where the enemy was. If the stalker
could get to that spot he would be protected for a moment from fire from
the enemy's trench.

It would take him a second or two to cross that space. In a second or
two what might happen? Well, he would have to risk that. At the very
end of the coppice he gathered himself together and rose slowly to a
crouching position. Another rain of shots came from the nook; the man's
rifle would be empty, he must give him no chance to reload. Now it would
be a fair fight with the bayonet.

He threw aside the white draperies that impeded his legs and in half a
dozen bounds the two men were face to face.

No shot had been fired. Yes, the magazine of the man's rifle was empty.
He heard the crunch of his enemy's feet on the snow. He rose to his
feet, his bayoneted rifle extended. The two barrels struck with terrific
force. The men swayed, drew back for another thrust, and they were
suddenly aware of a mist-like figure between them, a figure draped in
white,

William Babington Maxwell (18661938) was a British novelist. He was a son of novelist Mary Elizabeth Braddon. Though nearly 50 years old at the outbreak of the First World War, he was accepted as a lieutenant in the Royal Fusiliers and served in France until 1917.

Cyrus Townsend Brady (December 20, 1861 January 24, 1920) was a journalist, historian and adventure writer. His most well-known work is Indian Fights and Fighters. He was born in Allegheny, Pennsylvania, and graduated from the U.S. Naval Academy in 1883. He was also a deacon in the Episcopal church. His first wife was Clarissa Guthrie, who died in 1890. His second wife was Mary Barrett.

Rebecca Sophia Clarke (1833-1906), also known as Sophie May, was an American author of childrens fiction. Using her nieces and nephews as inspiration, she wrote realistic stories about children. She wrote 45 books between 1860 and 1903. The most popular being the Little Prudy books. She lived most of her life in her native town of Norridgewock, Maine, where she lived out her life with her sister, who was also a successful author.