"That's good!" said I.  "They will get one fair shot, at any rate."

The artilleryman hesitated at the gate.

"I shall go on," he said.

Farther on towards Weybridge, just over the bridge, there were a
number of men in white fatigue jackets throwing up a long rampart, and
more guns behind.

"It's bows and arrows against the lightning, anyhow," said the
artilleryman.  "They 'aven't seen that fire-beam yet."