Fighting in France | Page 9

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