Army Boys in the French Trenches | Page 6

been searched, were placed in double file
between the members of the guarding squad, who walked at a few
paces interval on either side of them.
"Fall in!" came the corporal's order. "Shoulder arms. March!"
They started out briskly.
Frank and Bart happened to be close beside the big German corporal
whom they had before observed. His wrath was not yet abated, and he
kept up a volley of epithets as he sullenly marched along.
"He's making as much fuss as though he were the Kaiser," chuckled
Tom, who was vastly amused at the prisoner's antics.
"Slap him on the wrist and tell him to be nice," counseled Billy with a
grin.
The captive glared at them with insane rage in his eyes.
"I think he's going nutty," remarked Bart. "It's lucky for him there aren't
any squirrels around."
"You want to keep your eye peeled for him," warned Frank. "He's bad
medicine."
"He's safe enough," replied Bart, carelessly. "He hasn't any weapon,
and if he started to run he wouldn't get far. He isn't cut out for a
sprinter."
"Even if he were, a bullet would catch him," chimed in Billy. "He'd
make a big target and it would be a pretty bad shot that would miss
him."
When they reached the blown-up first trench they found it difficult to

keep in line, and had to pick their way over the heaped-up ruin that had
been made by the mine explosion.
Bart tripped over a strand of broken wire, and in trying to save himself
from falling, his rifle slipped from his hand.
The German corporal was within a foot of him and saw his opportunity.
Quick as a flash he drew from his clothing a trench knife that the
searchers had overlooked. The murderous blade gleamed in the air as
the corporal brought it down toward the neck of Bart, who had stooped
to pick up his rifle.


CHAPTER III
TAKING CHANCES
"Look out, Bart!" yelled Billy, while Tom made a desperate leap to his
comrade's rescue.
But Frank was quicker than either.
Like lightning he lunged with his bayonet and caught the German in the
wrist, just as the knife was about to bury itself in Bart's neck.
With a howl of rage and pain, as his arm was forced upward, the
prisoner's hand lost its grip on the weapon and it clattered harmlessly to
the ground.
In an instant the German was overpowered and his arms tied behind
him with his own belt. Then his wounded wrist was bound up with a
surgical dressing, and under a special guard he was urged forward in no
gentle manner, for all were at a white heat at his treacherous attempt.
By the laws of war his life was forfeited, and he seemed to realize this,
for all his bravado vanished and from time to time he looked fearfully
at his captors. He saw little there to encourage him, for Bart was a great
favorite with his company and the attack had stirred them to the depths.

"A close call, old man." said Frank, affectionately tapping his friend on
the shoulder. "It would have been taps for me, all right, if you hadn't
acted as quickly as you did," responded Bart gratefully.
"Frank was Johnny-on-the-spot," said Billy admiringly. "My heart was
in my mouth when I saw that knife coming down."
"It was a waste of time to tie up that fellow's arm," remarked Tom, as
he glowered at the miscreant. "He'll soon be where he won't need any
bandages."
"I guess it's a case for a firing squad," judged Billy. "But it serves him
right, for it was up to him to play the game."
Before long they reached headquarters and delivered up their prisoners.
If they had expected to be sent back immediately to the firing line, they
were disappointed, for the examination of the prisoners began at once,
without the squad receiving notice of dismissal.
This had its compensations, however, for although they had captured
prisoners before, they had never been present at their examination, and
they were curious to see the turn the questioning would take.
Captain Baker, of the old Thirty-seventh, was detailed to do the
examining, and because time was precious and it was most important to
learn just what enemy units were opposed to the American forces, he
got to work at once, an interpreter standing at his side while a
stenographer made note of the replies.
The captain signaled to one of the most intelligent looking of the
prisoners, and the latter stepped out, clicked his heels together smartly
and saluted.
"What is your name?" asked the captain.
"Rudolph Schmidt."
"Your regiment?"

"The Seventy-ninth Bavarian."
"Who is your colonel?"
"Von Armin."
"Who commands your division?"
"General Hofer."
"Who is your corps commander?"