Ned, Bob and Jerry on the Firing Line Part 17

But the night pa.s.sed undisturbed.

"Oh, for some hot coffee!" exclaimed Bob, as he tumbled out the next morning in answer to the call to duty.

"Dry up!" ordered Jerry. "You ought to be glad to get it cold!"

"Well, I'll try to be," a.s.sented Bob. "Where's Ned?"

"Said he was going to see if he could get a bit of wood for a fire.

But if he finds any, which isn't likely, it'll be as wet as a sponge after this rain. Suffering hand grenades! will it ever let up?" cried Jerry, for it was still pouring.

Simple preparations were going on for breakfast. There was no sign yet of any of the carriers with big kettles of hot coffee or soup, and it was evident that the commissary had not yet been reorganized since the last breakdown.

Afterward the boys learned that the reason for the failure of their supplies to arrive was due to the fact that their sector was temporarily cut off by an attempted flanking movement on the part of the Germans. The Americans were in greater danger than they knew, but, at the time, all they thought of was the lack of hot rations.

"Ned ought to come back," remarked Jerry, as he and Bob prepared to eat. "He'll be reported late, and this isn't any time for that. I guess----"

But Jerry did not finish, for just then came a tremendous explosion, so close that for a moment he and Bob thought a Hun sh.e.l.l had been dropped in the dugout near which they were sitting under an improvised shelter.

Instantly the trench was a scene of feverish activity. Everyone expected a raid, and breakfast was hastily set aside, while the soldiers caught up their guns.

"It's all right," an officer called. "Fritz just took a pot shot at one of our trucks out on the road."

"Did he get it, Sir?" asked Jerry.

"I should say so! Look here!"

A curve in the road pa.s.sed close by this line of trenches. It was a road used to take supplies to another part of the American battleline, and vehicles pa.s.sed along it only at night, as it was within range of some of the German guns, though fairly well camouflaged. But this auto truck, returning in the early hours of the morning after having delivered a load of ammunition, had been caught by a sh.e.l.l. Afterward it was learned that the truck had broken down on the return trip and that the driver had been delayed in repairing it, so that he had to pa.s.s the danger point in daylight.

Whether or not the German battery was on the lookout for just such a chance as this, or whether it was a mere fortuitous opportunity of which advantage was taken, could not be learned. But a sh.e.l.l containing high explosive, though, fortunately for the driver, not a large one, landed near the automobile and shattered it.

This was the detonation which had so startled Jerry and Bob, and now, with others, they looked over the top of the trench at the ruins of the truck. It was blown apart, and the wooden body and wheels were scattered about while the engine was a mere ma.s.s of twisted and fused metal.

"Look! They didn't get the driver!" cried Bob, for as he spoke the man in charge of the truck picked himself up from a clump of bushes where he had been tossed, and limped toward the American line. He had escaped death by a miracle.

Then something else attracted the attention of Bob, Jerry, and the others. It was the sight of Ned Slade creeping along toward a pile of splintered wood--all that was left of the demolished truck.

"Who's that? What is he doing?" cried the officer in charge of that part of the trench. "Does he hope to rescue the driver? Can't he see that the man is safe and is coming in? Who is he?"

"Private Slade, Sir," replied Jerry.

"But what is he doing? That's a foolhardy piece of business, trying to reach that truck. It's under the fire of the German trench, as well as within range of their battery. What is he trying to do?"

CHAPTER XV

THE SNIPER

All stood looking from the trench at the actions of Ned Slade.

"Look!" cried Bob, pointing to his chum. "He's picking up pieces of wood!"

"Has he gone crazy?" murmured the officer, peering through his gla.s.ses at Private Slade. "Does he think he can salvage anything from the wreck?"

Just what Ned was thinking of was not evident. He moved here and there amid the ruins of the ammunition automobile, picking up bits of wood until his arms could hold no more. It was raining heavily, and when Ned stepped into a puddle the mud and water could be seen to splash.

And then, when Ned could carry no more and turned to come back to his own trench, the Germans, in theirs, suddenly awoke to the chance they had been missing. There were sharp reports, and something besides rain drops splashed into the pools of water all about Ned.

"They're firing at him! He'll be killed!" cried Bob.

"It seems very likely!" said the officer grimly. "Who gave him permission to go out like that, and why did he do it?"

No one answered. No one knew what to say.

And now Ned, aware of his own danger, began to run toward the trench.

He came on, stooping over to offer less of a target to the Germans, and he zig-zagged as he leaped forward. But through it all, through the hail of lead, he did not drop the pieces of the demolished truck he had picked up.

The firing from the German lines became hotter, and a machine gun began to splutter.

"It's all up with him now!" said the officer, with something like a groan. "I'll order our guns to sh.e.l.l the Hun trench, but it will be too late!"

He jumped down off the firing step, where he and the others, including Jerry and Bob, were standing, and started for the nearest telephone that connected with a battery.

Just then Ned was seen to stagger.

"He's. .h.i.t!" some one cried.

But if he was the lad who had taken such a desperate chance did not stop. He dropped a piece of wood, but still he ran on, stooping over, and darting from side to side.

And at last he reached the trench where Bob, Jerry, and his other comrades awaited him. The rain had made the top of the trench slippery, and Ned, striking this while going at full speed, fairly slid down into the ditch, the wood dropping from his arms all about.

"There you are!" he cried, as he recovered himself. "Enough wood for two fires! Now we can have something hot for breakfast! Bob, start the coffee boiling! I'm like you--hungry!"

For a moment the others stood staring at him, and then the officer came back.

"Did they get him?" he cried. "If they did they'll pay for it. We'll wipe out the Hun trench in another minute!"

Then he saw Ned, standing, surrounded by the splintered, wooden parts of the ammunition truck.

"Oh, you're here," said the officer, mechanically, as Ned saluted.

"Well, what in the name of General Pers.h.i.+ng did you want to do that for?"

"I wanted some wood to make a fire for breakfast, Sir," answered Ned simply. "Some one took our supply last night, and when I saw the truck blown to pieces and noticed that the driver was safe, I thought it a good chance to get some fairly dry fuel. So I took it. Better pick it up though, or it won't be dry long," he added to Jerry, and the latter, with Bob's help, obeyed. Ned had done his share.

The officer stared at Ned as though the young soldier were a new sort of fighter, and then, with a shake of his head, turned away. It was past belief or understanding.

As the three chums moved back to where they had set up an improvised stove, where they could build a fire with the truck pieces Ned had brought in, the ground shook with the thunder of the American guns that soon enforced silence in the German trenches. It was revenge for having fired on Ned.