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[Page 133]

12

The wood with all its straight stems might be of stone.

Nothing moves

Ah what is that I hear in the very distance of distance?

I have heard the like before, but only in France

It is the drumming of bombarding guns.

Guns of the western front.

As I have heard them on the Somme. The battle raging now is more terrific than that of the Somme.

God have mercy on our enemy if that be so.

I can hear the guns or armies

I feel quite certain of that

Suddenly a pine cone falls a few yards in front of me.

The stillness is broken for a moment

Naturally I must look upward.

I see a little brown squirrel high up amongst the needle plumes

He has noticed my movement and becomes part of the petrified stillness

I play his own game and might

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