H. Hesketh-Prichard

“ Only a cat, sir. I've entered it in the log-book. It's sunning itself on the parados now, sir. Line of water-tower. Red sandbag."
" Yes, I have it," said Nowell, who had taken the telescope.
" Shall I shoot 'im, sir ? "
" Why should you ? " " 'E probably kills rats and makes life brighter-like for the 'Un, sir, by so doing. There's a glut o' rats on this sector, sir." " The cat looks very comfortable. No, don't shoot, Saunders. Entworth, give me that log-book."
The officer turned over the pages. " I wonder if anyone has ever seen that cat before ? Hullo, yes. ”

“ Saunders' eyes picked up the water-tower in the distance, ranged to the parapet, found the red sand¬bag, then swung to the left of it. Yes, something moving. He cuddled the stock of his rifle, and brought the pointer in the telescope to bear. Then slowly he began to squeeze the trigger.
" Don't shoot." ”

“ I'd like aeroplane photos taken of K.22 squares C. and D. opposite here. New photographs, sir."
Cumberland was about to ask a question, but looking up he caught the slight flush of colour that had risen in Nowell's face.
" Righto," he said easily. " We rather pride our¬selves on quick work with aeroplane photos up at Corps. I'll have the squares taken to-morrow morn¬ing if visibility is pukka. And the finished photos will be in your hands by five o'clock. Good afternoon."
Cumberland strode along the trench, and Nowell stood scaring after him. ”