The youth's friend lay down, buried his face in his arms, and almost instantly, it seemed, he was in a deep sleep.
The youth leaned his breast against the brown dirt and peered over at the woods and up and down the line.

Curtains of trees interfered with his ways of vision.

He could see the low line of trenches but for a short distance.

A few idle flags were perched on the dirt hills.
Behind them were rows of dark bodies with a few heads sticking curiously over the top.
Always the noise of skirmishers came from the woods on the front and left, and the din on the right had grown to frightful proportions.

The guns were roaring without an instant's pause for breath.