Fighting in France

He had his bayonet in his hands but somehow it did not occur to him to use it. Like most Americans he preferred to fight with his fists, and unconsciously he had discarded his rifle. With one hand he seized the German by the throat and with the other he rained blow after blow upon his great broad face.

The German however was a powerful man. He outweighed the young American by at least thirty pounds and far outmatched him in strength. With an oath he turned upon the plucky boy and a moment later held him by the throat with both hands. Earl's breath was shut off short and everything began to turn black before his eyes. He felt himself being shaken as a terrier shakes a rat and consciousness began to slip away from him. He decided that it was all over.

Suddenly the terrible strangle hold on his throat relaxed and with a supreme effort he wrenched himself free and rose to his feet. There stood Leon gazing down at the German lying on the floor of the little subterranean apartment. One glance was enough to show Earl what had taken place.

"You saved my life, Leon," he muttered weakly.

"Huh," snorted Leon. "I hated to stab him like that but it was the only thing to do."

"He wouldn't have hesitated to fix us I guess," exclaimed Earl. "Where's Jacques?"

"On the floor there."

"Is he dead?"

"I don't know. I haven't had a chance to look at him."

As they advanced towards their companion he moved slightly and tried to get up.

"How do you feel, Jacques? Where did he hit you?" demanded Leon.

"He just grazed my head," murmured the young Frenchman weakly.

"Lucky for you," muttered Earl. "If he'd ever caught you squarely you'd be dead now, sure enough."

"Let me see where you're hurt," exclaimed Leon bending over his friend.

"It's not much of a wound," said Jacques. "He just stunned me; I'll be all right in a minute."

"Bring some water and a towel from that washstand over there, Earl," Leon directed his brother.

This was quickly done and the wound was bathed. The skin had been broken and the blood flowed freely, but it was nothing serious. The cold compress soon revived Jacques and a few moments later he was apparently as well as ever.

"Feel all right, Jacques?" asked Earl.

"Never better."

"You'd better lie down here on this bed for a little while."

"I should say not," exclaimed Jacques warmly. "We were sent in here to rout out the enemy and that's what we must do. There are surely more of them than we have seen."

"Next time we must be more careful going into rooms like this," advised Leon. "It doesn't pay just to go ahead blindly."

"Come," urged Jacques, and he led the way out of the little room down the narrow passageway leading they knew not where.

Cautiously they slunk along, their eyes strained to see through the dim light of the underground passage. The noise of the great cannonade above came to their ears but faintly here. A hoarse rumbling and a trembling of the earth was the sole evidence that over their heads the opposing armies were hurling tons of metal at each other.

"There's a turn just ahead," whispered Jacques cautiously. "Be ready."

Every sense alert the three young soldiers proceeded slowly. Soon they came to the spot where the passage led off to the left. Jacques peered cautiously around the corner and quickly drew back his head.

"Come," he whispered, beckoning to his two companions. "Have your grenades ready."

All three boys took hand grenades in their right hands and prepared for instant action.

"Lean your rifles against the wall here," Jacques directed.

This done, they crept stealthily forward, the grenades in their right hands and their automatic revolvers in their left. Making almost no sounds, they walked gingerly around the corner of the passage and there before their eyes they saw what had caused Jacques to draw back so speedily a few moments before. Standing in the center of a little room similar to the one they had just left were six Germans.

Their plan had been to steal upon their foes, taking them by surprise and forcing them to surrender. This plan was unexpectedly thrown awry however. One of the rifles leaned against the wall of the passage slipped; it fell to the ground carrying the others with it and a loud clatter was the result.

"Hein!" exclaimed one of the Germans wheeling quickly in the direction whence the noise came. Seeing three French soldiers stealing towards him he instantly whipped out his revolver and fired.

Leon, Jacques and Earl ducked quickly and instinctively.

"Let 'em have it!" shouted Leon and he let fly his hand grenade.

Straight down the passageway it sped and a tremendous explosion instantly occurred. The little room was filled with smoke and the three young soldiers could not see what was taking place in front of them. Earl too hurled his deadly handbomb into the chamber and a second explosion instantly took place.

"That's the way!" shouted Jacques. "That'll fix them I guess!"

All of the Germans had not been disposed of however. A moment later the sharp crack of a revolver sounded from behind the wall of smoke and a bullet winging its way through the half-light tore Jacque's hat from his head. Another and still another shot followed the first.

"That's enough of that," muttered the young Frenchman grimly and his hand-grenade took the same course that the two others had followed. A deafening concussion ensued and then all was still.

"Keep back against the wall," warned Leon. "Have your pistols ready."

Crouching low and keeping as far away from the center of the passage as possible the three boys awaited developments. Every boy grasped his revolver firmly in his right hand and peered eagerly in the direction of their enemies. Not a sound came from the room where the Germans had been assembled.

"They're all dead I guess," whispered Earl at length.

"Don't be so sure," cautioned Leon. "Wait a minute longer."

With muscles tense and every nerve alert the three young soldiers waited. It seemed as if the smoke from the three explosions would never lift and the three boys felt as if hours had elapsed before they could catch a glimpse of the room. Finally however the atmosphere cleared away and they saw the results of their work.

"Let's go in there," exclaimed Jacques.

"Go slow," warned Leon. "It may be a trap."

"We'll be ready for them," said Jacques. "Come along."

Prepared for instant action, the three boys cautiously approached the tiny room. They were fearful of a surprise attack but their fears proved to be groundless. On the floor lay the bodies of six dead Germans. The hand-grenades had done their work well.

"A man doesn't stand much chance against these grenades, does he?" exclaimed Leon. "They're certainly deadly."

"Lucky for us they are," said Jacques shortly. "Now for a souvenir."

He drew his knife and bending low he quickly cut the buttons from the jacket of one of the dead soldiers at his feet.

"What are you going to do with them?" demanded Earl curiously.

"Make rings," said Jacques calmly slipping the buttons into his pocket. "These men belonged to the Imperial Guard."

"How do you know?"

"Look at the eagle on the buttons here; that proves it," and, as he spoke, Jacques drew forth one of his trophies to show his comrades.

"We'd better move on," exclaimed Leon a moment later. "Go pick up your hat, Jacques, and we'll get the rifles."

"My poor hat," laughed Jacques. "It will have a window in it now."

"You'd better be glad it isn't your head that has the window," said Leon grimly. "I don't see that you have anything to complain about."

"I'm not complaining," smiled Jacques. "I agree that I am fortunate."

"Come along," urged Leon. "We may run into some more of the Boches any minute."

"Boches" was what the French soldiers always called the Germans.

"I'm ready," exclaimed Jacques, and they returned to the spot where their guns had been left. The young Frenchman rescued his hat which had a hole cut cleanly through the crown. "It will give good ventilation," he remarked laughingly.

They picked up their guns and were preparing to move on when Earl suddenly held up his hand. "Listen," he whispered tensely. "I hear someone coming."

CHAPTER V

HAND TO HAND

Instantly the three boys were all attention. They shrank back into the shadow of the passage and with guns raised to their shoulders and their fingers on the triggers they waited. Undoubtedly some one was approaching. There was more than one, for low-voiced words could be heard. Were they friends or foes?

Immovable the young soldiers waited. Closer and closer came the sound of those who were coming in their direction. All at once they appeared.

"Halt," cried Leon sharply.

"Ah, is it you, my friend Leon?"

"Who's that?" demanded Leon greatly surprised to hear his name spoken.

"It is I; Pierre Garemont," replied a pleasant voice.

The three young soldiers immediately lowered their rifles. Pierre was an old friend of theirs, one of their company, and with him there was Jean Luqueur, another one of their comrades.

"Where have you been, Pierre?" demanded Leon eagerly.

"Searching for the Boches," he answered. "But alas I have had but poor luck; I have found nothing but dead ones."

"Where are you going now?" asked Jacques.

"Back to the battlefield to rejoin our men."

"Is the work all done down here?"

"I see no more to be done. Let us go."

"You two were making a lot of noise coming through that passage," remarked Jacques severely. "It would have been easy for anyone to ambush you."

"Ha, ha," laughed Pierre loudly. "The Boches, they are too stunned by our bombardment to do anything."

"Don't you believe it!" cried Leon seriously. "If we go with you you'll have to be quiet, that's sure."

"Very well," Pierre agreed glibly. He was in excellent spirits however for he felt that his country was on the threshold of a great victory over its hated enemy and he was happy.

"Do you know the way out?" inquired Earl.

"We are not sure," said Jean. "We were looking for it when you so rudely pointed your guns at our heads."

"We won't do it again," promised Jacques. "You lead the way, Pierre, and we'll follow."

They proceeded in silence now. The story the three boys told of their two encounters with the Germans had a quieting effect upon Pierre and Jean. They realized that perhaps all the enemy had not been cleared from this great labyrinth after all.

Twisting and turning in their course they tramped along. Numberless passages led off in all directions but the five soldiers kept to the one in which they had started. It seemed larger than the others and they decided it must be the principal one. Consequently they thought it would eventually lead them out of the bewildering underground maze.

Suddenly a patch of light appeared far ahead of them. It was sunlight and they quickened their pace, eager to join in the battle once more. That they were approaching an exit was proved by the fact that the roar of the guns increased as they proceeded. The artillery had not ceased its activity in the slightest.

A shadow crossed the patch of sunlight ahead and Pierre held up his hand. Immediately the little company halted.

A moment later a tall Prussian stepped into the trench and peered cautiously all about him. The five French soldiers shrank back into the shadow and watched. Evidently the German saw nothing, for a moment later he turned and beckoned and straightway four more helmeted Germans appeared. They stood together in the little spot of light, evidently debating what to do next.

They did not stand that way long however. Pierre quickly raised his rifle and fired at the little group. His shot went wild however. Like a flash the Germans turned and after one hasty glance in the direction of the shot, they darted down some adjoining passage and disappeared.

"After them!" cried Pierre. He dashed off in mad pursuit, closely followed by the four other members of the squad. At top speed they rushed along the passageway. Soon they came to the spot where the patch of sunlight showed.

"This way," shouted Pierre, and he turned sharply to the left and sped along after the fleeing Germans.

"Don't run into a trap," shouted Jacques, but Pierre gave no heed to him. His one idea was to come up with his foes and he forgot everything else. He led the others by at least five yards, followed by Jacques, Earl, Jean, and Leon in the order named.

Thus far they had seen no fresh signs of the Germans but there had been no branches to this passage as yet, and consequently they were convinced that they were upon the right track.

Suddenly a man stepped out of a niche in the wall directly in front of Pierre. He held his rifle out in front of him and before the racing Frenchman could check himself he had run full upon the long keen bayonet. Clear through him it went and down went Pierre.

Close behind him, however, was Jacques, and before the German could do any more execution he gave him the same treatment that Pierre had received. Without a sound he sank to the ground and lay limply stretched out upon the prostrate body of Pierre.

"Is Pierre dead?" gasped Earl.

"He is," said Jacques simply.

"Too bad," murmured Earl.

"That's part of the game," said Jacques in a matter-of-fact tone. "We can do no more for him. Let's move on."

France had lost a brave soldier in this simple peasant. He had given his life for his country and no man, peasant or king, can do more than that. He loved France and he died for her gladly. He did not like war and he had had no quarrel with anyone. When his country was in peril, however, he had but one thought and that was to do all he could for her. He had done his best and served her well. There were thousands more just like him and it was impossible to mourn over any one of them long. Consequently his four comrades soon left him to attend to the business in hand.

"The fellow that killed him won't do any damage again anyway," remarked Earl. "You fixed him all right, Jacques."

"Come," urged Jacques shortly.

"Go slowly from now on," urged Leon. This advice was followed and the little squad moved forward again. They had no desire that Pierre's fate should overtake them.

A few moments later they came to a spot where several passages all seemed to meet. It was like the hub of a wheel, only there were not so many passages as there are spokes in most wheels.

"Now what?" exclaimed Earl when they had reached this spot.

"Where did they go?" demanded Leon. "We'd better not stand here any longer though. Some one will take a shot at us if we're not careful."

"Right you are," agreed Jacques heartily. "Let's follow this passage and see where it leads us." He plunged into one of the dimly lighted aisles and proceeded cautiously along it, closely followed by his three companions.

They had gone but a short distance when the passage suddenly opened up into the main trench and the four soldiers found themselves in the daylight again. Over their heads the bullets whistled and the projectiles screamed but none of them fell in that particular trench. The French charge had carried far beyond this spot and the Germans were interested in that, while the French guns were still busy hammering the opposing trenches to pieces.

"Look," cried Earl. "There are the Germans we were chasing."

A squad of French soldiers passed with five German prisoners, one of them easily recognizable as the tall Prussian they had seen only a short time before. The man in charge of the squad halted the little band and a most interesting event took place.

All the buttons were cut off the prisoners' trousers; suspenders and belts were cut in two and the laces were slashed from their shoes. A moment later the five Germans slopped away, their hands in their pockets to keep their trousers from falling off and shuffling their feet to keep their shoes on. One Frenchman accompanied them to direct rather than guard them. They were harmless enough now.

"That's certainly a funny sight," laughed Leon. "Those Germans couldn't run away or do any damage now to save their lives."

"A great way to send prisoners back to the lines," said Jacques.

The three boys and Jean now joined the other men in the squad and together the eleven soldiers started across the battlefield. All of them were of the same regiment but from different companies. Far ahead they could see the curtain of fire and behind it the advancing line of French troops.

"That's where we belong," cried Jacques eagerly.

"Here come reinforcements!" shouted Earl, and from their own lines they could see a fresh battalion of infantry pouring out of the trenches and starting across that field of death.

Corpses lay on every side, French and German together. The ground was covered with the dead and wounded, some of the latter desperately in need of attention. They had to be left for the Red Cross, however. The soldiers had their orders and they were to advance.

"Shall we wait and go forward with the reinforcements?" asked one of the men in the squad which the four soldiers had encountered.

"I should say not," cried Jacques. "Our regiment is ahead there and that's where we ought to be."

With a shout he dashed forward and close at his heels followed his ten comrades all eager to be in the fray once more.

CHAPTER VI

UNDER FIRE

Ahead of them was a small wooded ridge and towards this they made their way. The field was littered with corpses and it was necessary to exercise great care to prevent stepping on the dead bodies.

A few moments later the eleven soldiers reached the ridge and there came up with their battalion; at least what was left of it, for it had suffered heavily during the charge. The three boys were very glad indeed to rejoin their company and were soon in their accustomed places.

"We're pretty well protected here," remarked Earl when they were in the abandoned German trench under the shelter of the ridge.

"Yes," agreed Jacques. "Those scrubby little pine trees hide us from the sight of the German observation posts. Their artillery won't bother us much here."

"We don't want it to," said Leon grimly. "It has done enough of that already."

"And it will do a whole lot more," added Jacques.

As he finished speaking the order to advance came and once more the troops moved on. They followed the zig-zag course of the German trench they occupied. It was filled with dead soldiers for it was through this trench that the Germans had tried to rush reinforcements when the attack started. The French guns, however, had had the range and inflicted cruel losses on their opponents.

"This trench leads right over the top of the ridge," remarked Jacques. "Wait until we get there and we'll catch it."

"Not if we stay in the trench," objected Leon.

"But I don't think we will."

"Do you know for sure?"

"No, I don't, but I imagine we'll have a chance in the open again."

His guess proved to be correct. Arriving at the summit of the hill the battalion halted. The men were formed in sections about fifty yards apart.

"What's the idea?" asked Earl.

"When we leave the trench each section will charge in Indian file," answered Jacques. "Instead of being abreast we'll be one behind another. In that way we'll offer a much smaller target."

"True enough," exclaimed Earl. "That's a great scheme."

A moment later the order came. The soldiers debouched from the trench and in long lines advanced down the hill. From the German positions the French formation gave more or less the impression of one man every fifty yards charging at them.

Almost immediately, however, their appearance was greeted by a storm of shot and shell. Guns of all caliber belched their deadly missiles at the charging French. The attackers quickened their pace and breaking into a run, raced down the hill.

At the bottom of the incline were numberless great pits blasted out of the ground by the prodigious explosions. Into these the attackers dove pell-mell and a halt was called for a few moments' rest.

Leon, Jacques and Earl found themselves in one of these, along with five other men of their company.

"Look at those two big howitzers," exclaimed Leon pointing to two big German guns lying half-imbedded in the earth.

"Where are the men to attend to them?" queried Earl.

"Ask our gunners," advised Jacques grimly. "Perhaps they can tell you."

"What do you mean?" demanded Earl somewhat puzzled by this remark.

"Simply this," said the young Frenchman. "One or two of our big shells made direct hits on this battery and the gunners are not in existence anymore."

"I see," said Earl simply.

As these eight soldiers sat in the pit and waited, their spirits began to rise and they seemed to forget the horrors they had been through and their present danger. They even began to make jokes and laugh over certain incidents of the fight. The thing that amused them most was the recollection of the German prisoners shuffling off with their hands in their pockets to keep up their trousers. One of the men had even had time to pick one German's pocket of a package of cigarettes.

He passed them around with great glee and soon every one was smoking except Earl, Leon and Jacques. They had never acquired the habit and knowing that they were better off without it had no desire to start. Their main desire was to keep themselves in perfect physical trim.

As they sat there talking the shells flew over their heads in a steady stream. In the great crater, however, they were comparatively safe unless some stray shell should chance to land directly in the hollow where they were seated.

"And if one ever does," exclaimed Jacques, "it's good-by to us."

"Why so?" demanded Earl. "In a hole as large as this we might get nothing worse than a spattering of dirt."

"Yes," said Jacques, "but don't you know that there are probably several thousand rounds of ammunition buried under here? If there should happen to be an explosion, what do you think would happen to us?"

"Well there wouldn't be enough to make much of a fuss over, I guess," remarked Leon with a grim smile.

A man suddenly appeared on the rim of the pit and slid over the edge.

"Ho, Coudert," one of the soldiers greeted him.

"Got orders?" asked another.

"Yes," said Coudert who acted as order-bearer in the battalion.

The men crowded about him, eager to learn what their next move was to be. Coudert spoke rapidly in French and Jacques translated his message to Earl and Leon. The two young Americans spoke that language fairly well but when it came to a question of orders they always had Jacques interpret them if possible, so that there should be no mistake.

"We are to leave here," said Jacques, "and go on down to the bottom of the hill where we are to dig shelters for ourselves. We cannot go forward until our artillery has had a chance to do a little more execution."

"Then we'll probably have to stay out all night," remarked Leon.

"I should not be surprised," said Jacques simply.

"That'll be nice," exclaimed Leon with a wry smile.

"Coudert says," continued Jacques, "that that trench we just left back there on the hill is half full of reinforcements for us."

"We can use them," said Earl shortly.

"Ready," came the order, and with a final adjustment of his equipment every man prepared himself for the dash that was to come.

The men scrambled up the sides of the giant crater. From the pits on both sides of them the other sections were doing the same thing.

"Spread out," was the order. "Advance in open formation."

With several feet between them the French dashed down the hill. The German machine-guns barked at them angrily and the spiteful crack of the rifles could be heard now and then above the din of the cannonade. Two hundred yards from the enemy's positions they flung themselves down upon the ground and began digging furiously. Every man had a shovel in his equipment and he made the dirt fly.

In an incredibly short time a parapet a little over a foot high was thrown up and every man's knapsack was placed to keep the dirt in position so that they were fairly safe against infantry and machine-gun fire. This done, every soldier then began to dig a little individual ditch for himself. Three feet deep and two feet wide and long enough to lie down in they furnished excellent protection against anything but a direct hit by one of the enemy's shells.

"Hello, Jacques," called Leon. "How do you feel?"

"Fine. Do you know our section didn't lose a man on the way down the hill?"

"That so? Good for us."

"Where's Earl?"

"The other side of you, I think. Yell at him."

"Hey, Earl," called Jacques.

"Hello," came the answer. "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to know if you were all right."

"Surely. I don't see the point in these piles of dirt in between the ditches though. It seems to me that the dirt would do more good in front."

"We've got enough in front," said Jacques. "You'll see the use in that dirt in between us if a shell should ever land squarely in one of the ditches."

Scarcely had he spoken when a 105-millimeter shell dropped directly into the ditch next to Earl's. It was occupied by a man named Dumont and he, poor fellow, was blown to atoms. Earl, however, thanks to the "dirt" he despised so much was untouched.

"Their fire is slackening," remarked Jacques.

"Yes," agreed Leon. "There seems to be only one battery firing at us now."

"That shows how good our artillery is," said Jacques proudly. "That one battery that's left would have been silenced long ago too if it hadn't been hidden pretty well."

"How do you know it's hidden?"

"Because they'd have located it before this time if it wasn't."

The French aeroplanes which had been soaring overhead for a long time now began to swoop lower. Evidently the aviators were searching for the battery in question. A swift biplane swept past, barely two hundred and fifty yards above the trenches. Amid a perfect storm of shot it returned safely to its lines.

"Dig the trenches deeper," came the order.

"Hear that?" demanded Jacques. "That means we stay out here all night, I guess."

CHAPTER VII

IN THE DITCH

The time passed slowly. The cannonade slackened in intensity and at times almost ceased entirely. The men spent their time in improving their positions and enlarging the ditches in which they were lying.

"What are you doing, Jacques?" demanded Leon suddenly.

"Watch me," was the young Frenchman's only reply.

He placed his steel helmet on the end of his bayonet and raised it cautiously above the edge of the parapet. Almost immediately a storm of German bullets struck all around the spot.

"You're crazy, Jacques," exclaimed Leon. "Stop that."

"Not at all," chuckled Jacques. "I love to fool them."

"You'll get fooled yourself if you're not careful."

"No, I won't either."

He repeated the move and again the bullets rained all about him. He soon tired of the game, however, and for a time lapsed into silence.

"How big is your ditch, Leon?" called Jacques.

"I don't know; it's pretty good size."

"Large enough for two?"

"It might hold two I guess."

"All right then," exclaimed Jacques. "I'm coming over to see you."

With two quick jumps he was out of his ditch and alongside Leon. Little spurts of earth flew up from the parapet in front as he took his place.

"You were too slow that time, my friends," chuckled Jacques addressing his remarks to the Germans.

"That was a risky thing to do," exclaimed Leon reprovingly.

"I know it," admitted Jacques. "All war is risky."

"Just for that reason there is no use in taking unnecessary chances."

"That was not unnecessary," grinned Jacques. "I understand that you have some bread and cheese still left and I am hungry."

"That's true," admitted Leon and from his knapsack he produced both articles in question. Lying side by side in that shallow ditch the two young soldiers ate their luncheon.

"I wonder what some of my friends would say if they could see me now," mused Leon. "I guess they'd be surprised."

"Because you are fighting here?" asked Jacques.

"Yes. They probably couldn't understand why I should want to enlist in some other country's army and go to war for strangers."

"But you are fighting for liberty," exclaimed Jacques. "America stands for liberty, does it not?"

"It certainly does," cried Leon. "Still some people would probably wonder why I should want to fight for another country's liberty."

"But," protested Jacques, "did not France aid your country in your struggle for independence in the war of the Revolution? Why then is it strange that Americans should help France when she is fighting for her very existence and life?"

"I don't think it's strange," said Leon. "I think it's only right. What I said was, that some of my friends might not understand it."

"America and France both stand for liberty," said Jacques. "They both had to fight hard to get it and now they should help each other keep what they have won so dearly."

"The two nations have always been good friends," said Leon.

"Yes," agreed Jacques simply, "and I hope they always will be."

The young Frenchman rolled over on his side and suddenly jumped almost to his feet. He clasped both hands to his face and tried to rise but could not. His head seemed to weigh tons and he simply could not get up.

"Jacques! Jacques!" cried Leon in alarm, kneeling beside his companion. "What is the matter?"

Blood was oozing between the fingers of the young Frenchman.

"Let me see," begged Leon. "Take your hands away from your face."

Jacques made no answer but continued his vain efforts to rise.

With difficulty Leon forced his hands from his face. Jacques was now bespattered with blood which spurted from a long gash running from his left eye to the corner of his mouth.

"Lie down, Jacques," begged Leon anxiously.

Without a word the wounded boy stretched himself out upon his back in the ditch. Leon reached for his emergency dressing and began to do what he could for the young Frenchman.

"A steel splinter hit me, I guess," murmured Jacques.

"I should say it did," agreed Leon soberly. "It's a lucky thing it didn't hit your eye. How do you feel?"

"All right. Pretty weak though."

"A doctor ought to dress that wound," said Leon. "You can't leave this place before dark though; it would be sure death to try."

"Oh, I'm all right enough," said Jacques. "This is only a scratch."

"A pretty deep scratch I should say," replied Leon grimly. "It'll leave a scar as long as you live."

"What of it?"

"It won't help your looks any."

"What do I care? That scar will always remind me that I did something for France. I shall be proud of it."

"Do you feel any better?" asked Leon.

"A little. I'd like my canteen though."

Leon reached for the article in question which was lying on the edge of the little ditch. As he turned he felt a blow in the shoulder.

"What's the matter?" demanded Jacques as he saw his companion sink back.

"I'm hit," said Leon simply.

"Where is it?"

"In the shoulder."

"Unbutton your coat and shirt and look at it."

Leon quickly complied and a moment later picked a rifle-ball out of his shoulder. It had barely broken the skin and the wound bled but little.

"That's funny," mused Leon. "How do you suppose its force became spent so soon?"

"It must have struck something else first."

Leon looked about him. "I should say it did," he exclaimed. "Look here."

He picked up Jacques' gun which was lying on the parapet. The bullet had struck the magazine of the rifle, knocked out one cartridge and torn a hole through the wooden stock.

"Pretty lucky for you," said Jacques. "If it hadn't been for that gun you'd have been done for now."

The afternoon dragged slowly along and the bombardment began to increase in severity once more. Evidently the way was being prepared for a further advance of the infantry that night.

"I'd better leave you now I guess," remarked Leon as dusk began to creep over the battlefield. "You stay here and I'll go back to your ditch."

"Be careful," warned Jacques. "Keep low."

With a quick jump Leon sprang out of the ditch and over into the one Jacques had formerly occupied. His appearance was greeted by a volley of bullets from one of the German machine-guns but the aim was too high and he reached his goal in safety.

As night fell half the section remained on the alert while the other half slept. The cannonade was now furious but the men managed to get some rest. At midnight Leon was relieved from his watch and prepared himself for sleep. One of the men furnished him with two overcoats stripped from dead Germans and with these he made a fairly comfortable bed.

In spite of the terrific din made by the guns he at last dozed off to sleep. How long he slept he did not know, but suddenly he awoke to find himself in complete darkness. He felt suffocated. He tried to rise but was unable to move. Something seemed to be holding him down and choking him at the same time. There was no air to breathe.

He set himself for a strong muscular effort. He drew in his breath and his mouth filled with dirt. Suddenly the awful truth flashed through his mind. He was buried alive.

CHAPTER VIII

A MIDNIGHT SALLY

"To die like this!" thought Leon. "What a terrible end."

He had always planned that if he should be stricken in this war it would be with his gun in his hand and his face set toward the enemy. To perish, buried under a heap of earth, was not a soldier's death.

He worked the dirt out of his mouth with the tip of his tongue and set himself for a supreme effort. A quick breath and more dirt filled his mouth. He could not move a muscle in his body. He tried to shout and more earth entered his mouth. It gritted its way down his throat.

So this was the end. The young soldier grew calm and waited for it to come. After all it was not so bad. He had done his best and now it was all over. That was the chance a soldier was compelled to take. The pain left him and the whole world turned black.

"Ouch," cried somebody suddenly. "He bit my finger."

"Never mind that," said another voice. "Get the dirt out of his mouth."

Leon felt a finger enter his throat and he coughed. Some one was working his arms up and down and his wounded shoulder pained him. He struggled up but sank back to his knees and began coughing up dirt.

"Spit that dirt out on your parapet," said a voice which Leon recognized as belonging to Dubois, one of his mates. "You'll need it all there."

Dubois was the joker of the regiment and everybody laughed. Even Leon smiled. He was feeling much better now and all the men except Earl returned to their holes. Jacques had been taken to the rear by the Red Cross to have his wound dressed.

"What hit me, Earl?" asked Leon.

"Dirt hit you," said Earl. "A shell exploded just the other side of you."

"It must have been a big one."

"It was; 250-millimeter."

"That's a ten-inch, isn't it? Did it do much damage?"

"Well we've got two men less in our company than we had a few minutes ago."

"I guess I was lucky," exclaimed Leon soberly.

"You certainly were," agreed Earl. "That shell tore a hole in the ground about six feet deep and spilled about ten cubic yards of dirt on top of you."

At this moment two stretcher-bearers arrived on the spot to take Leon back to the rear, but he refused to go.

"I'm all right," he exclaimed. "I only had a lot of dirt piled on me and that didn't do me any harm. Besides there is too much going on and I don't want to miss any of it."

The bearers withdrew and Leon went back to his ditch. He was rapidly recovering his strength and began to dig his two German overcoats out from under the pile of dirt. He bedded them down in the crater made by the shell and made himself quite comfortable.

"Come over here, Earl," he shouted a moment later. "This crater is much larger and safer than your ditch and lightning never strikes twice in the same place you know."

Earl soon joined his brother and with him came Dubois the man who had helped to dig out Leon. There was plenty of room for all three and for a time they felt quite secure. Soon however the shells began to fall thicker and faster all about them.

"What did you say about lightning?" demanded Dubois at length.

"The shells are getting pretty close, aren't they?" said Leon anxiously.

"Yes," said Dubois, "and to my mind it's only a question of time before one lands on us. This isn't old-fashioned lightning you know."

"They certainly seem to be getting the range all right," exclaimed Earl. "I don't see what we can do though. We can't leave our post."

"No," agreed Leon. "We certainly can't go back."

"We can go ahead though," said Dubois.

"What do you mean?" demanded Leon puzzled by his comrade's remark.

"Do you remember that little German trench about forty yards ahead of us out here?"

"Yes."

"Well why can't we go out and take possession of that?"

"Just the three of us?" demanded Earl.

"Why, yes," replied Dubois. "You will remember that there has been no firing from that spot all day. It is probably empty."

"Do you think we can reach it?" exclaimed Leon eagerly.

"Why not? It is very close and yet we'll not be fired upon by the Boches. If we remain here it is but a question of time before we are entirely wiped out. What do you say?"

"I say to go," replied Leon at once.

"And I too," echoed Earl.

"Come then," urged Dubois and without waiting another moment he crawled up out of the crater and started across the space intervening between them and the German trench. One on each side, Leon and Earl accompanied him.

These two boys were typical twins in every respect. Strangers could hardly ever tell them apart and even their intimate friends became confused at times. They looked alike, their voices were alike, and they even seemed to think alike. The only distinguishing mark was a small mole under Earl's right eye.

"Don't let any German clip that mole off, Earl," warned Dubois. "If that should happen I don't know how we could ever tell which was which."

"It's impossible to see anything to-night anyway," said Leon. "I have never seen such blackness."

Crawling three abreast they proceeded across the shell-swept battlefield. The cannonade made an infernal noise now and it seemed as if bedlam had been let loose. Closer and closer they came to their goal. Indistinctly outlined against the night they could see the pile of earth thrown up in front of the German trench.

A few moments later they came to it. Dubois did not try to enter here however but, still followed by Earl and Leon, he crawled around the end of it. Then he continued until he came to the center of the trench so that it was between them and the French lines.

Suddenly a wild yell split the darkness.

"Die Franzosen! Die Franzosen!" (The French! The French!)

It was impossible to distinguish one object from another. There might have been a regiment of Germans in the trench for all that Dubois and his two comrades could tell. For that matter the Germans might easily have imagined they were beset by a regiment of French. The night was inky black.

It was a great surprise to the three adventurers to hear this yell of fear coming out of a trench they had supposed to be vacant, but they were undaunted. Dubois immediately jumped down into the trench, closely followed by Leon and Earl.

"Hände hoch!" (Hands up) shrieked Dubois, calling upon the small amount of German with which he was familiar.

"Hände hoch!" he shouted again and Leon and Earl added their voices.

It was a tense moment. Probably they were far outnumbered by the Germans and should this fact be discovered it would go hard with them. It was a strange sensation for two American boys to experience. There they were standing in a deep trench somewhere in France, in the middle of the night, with they did not know how many Germans who would have liked nothing better than to kill them then and there.

"Hände hoch!" repeated Dubois threateningly and the three comrades held their breath in suspense.

"Kameraden! Kameraden!" came the familiar reply and Dubois chuckled audibly. He and two companions had forced the occupants of a German trench to surrender, solely through bluff.

In his broken German the intrepid Frenchman ordered their prisoners to leave the trench and with their hands held high above their heads to march towards the French lines. One by one they stepped out and as the three friends saw them outlined indistinctly against the sky they counted six Germans. Three of them had taken double their number of the enemy prisoners.

"You and Earl take them back," said Dubois to Leon. "I'll stay here in this trench and you'd better tell the rest of the fellows in our section to move up here. It's much safer."

"All right," said Leon readily, and with his revolver in his hand to guard against any attempts to escape he and Earl set out to conduct their captives back to the French lines.