Presently Mr. Cockerell reports to the Captain--

"Telephone out of order, sir."

"I never knew a range telephone that wasn't," replies the Captain,

inspecting the instrument. "Still, you might give this one a sporting

chance, anyhow. It isn't a _wireless_ telephone, you know! Corporal

Kemp, connect that telephone for Mr. Cockerell."

A marble-faced N.C.O. kneels solemnly upon the turf and raises a

small iron trapdoor--hitherto overlooked by the omniscient

Cockerell--revealing a cavity some six inches deep, containing an

electric plug-hole. Into this he thrusts the terminal of the telephone

wire. Cockerell, scarlet in the face, watches him indignantly.

Telephonic communication between firing-point and butts is now

established. That is to say, whenever Mr. Cockerell rings the bell

some one in the butts courteously rings back. Overtures of a more

intimate nature are greeted either with stony silence or another

fantasia on the bell.

Meanwhile the captain is superintending firing arrangements.

"Are the first details ready to begin?" he shouts.

"Quite ready, sir," runs the reply down the firing line.

The Captain now comes to the telephone himself. He takes the receiver

from Cockerell with masterful assurance.

"Hallo, there!" he calls. "I want to speak to Captain Wagstaffe."

"Honkle yang-yang?" inquires a ghostly voice.

"Captain Wagstaffe! Hurry up!"

Presently the bell rings, and the Captain gets to business.

"That you, Wagstaffe?" he inquires cheerily. "Look here, we're going

to fire Practice Seven, Table B,--snap-shooting. I want you to raise

all the targets for six seconds, just for sighting purposes. Do you

understand?"

Here the bell rings continuously for ten seconds. Nothing daunted, the

Captain tries again.

"That you, Wagstaffe? Practice Seven, Table B!"

"T'chk, t'chk!" replies Captain Wagstaffe.

"Begin by raising all the targets for six seconds. Then raise them six

times for five seconds each.--no, as you were! Raise them five times

for six seconds each. Got that? I say, are you _there_? What's that?"

"_Przemysl_" replies the telephone--or something to that effect.

"_Czestochowa! Krsyszkowice! Plock_!"

The First Hundred Thousand: Being the Unofficial Chronicle of a Unit of "K(1)" · 第 35 / 99 题