"Well, that's the way that hill seems to be traveling along, always keeping the same distance ahead of us."

"I've heard of armies 'taking' a fort, or a city, or a trench," said Slim. "Do you suppose those Germans are 'taking' that young mountain along with them?"

"Seems so to me," said Jerry, coming to a halt to shift the heavy pack-set to the other hand.

As a matter of fact, early evening--a cold, biting winter evening--was settling about them when they finally climbed to the crest of that hill to cautiously "see what they could see."

Far beyond the slope ahead of them, in the dim dusk, they could discern a ma.s.s of men, evidently halted for the night.

"That's their rear guard," announced Jerry, with the field gla.s.ses to his eyes. "I can even make out their sentries."

Slim took a look and agreed. "Hadn't we better report?" he asked.

"I think we ought to make this bunch of trees here our position, and then scout ahead a little first," said Jerry.

"All right," Slim agreed. "Which one of us shall go?"

"Let's toss."

They did, and it fell to the lad who had claimed to have the scent of a deerhound to go out and reconnoitre, while the "natural-born scout"

remained behind.

Divesting himself of all his burdens but his revolver and ammunition belt, Slim started off. Leaving Jerry to arrange their effects, he gave that young man a real shock when he silently returned five minutes later unheard by Jerry, and, standing only half a dozen feet behind him, blurted out:

"Forgot my field gla.s.ses."

Jerry whirled around as though he had been shot. "Why don't you sneak up and try to frighten a fellow to death?" he demanded.

"Sorry," Slim apologized. "Thought you heard me coming."

"I believe you did it on purpose," Jerry growled, as the other youth again started off.

"I'll send in my card first next time," was Slim's parting remark.

"Well, be sure to make yourself known," retorted Jerry, "or I might mistake you for a Boche and send in a bullet."

Slim's laugh floated back and he disappeared down a ravine through which he was making for a higher point of observation further on.

Ten minutes elapsed and there was no sign of Slim. When a quarter of an hour had pa.s.sed Jerry began to get worried. Had his friend perhaps fallen and injured himself? Had he lost his way? A dozen fears came into Jerry's mind, and at the end of another five minutes he decided that it was time to take some measure to learn the whereabouts of Slim.

Softly, but with great carrying force, he gave the well-known "Whip-poor-will."

The answer was the same that Slim himself had received that night in No Man's Land when the wounded and unconscious Rawle lay bleeding beside him--nothing but absolute silence.

A great dread that he could not have defined gripped Jerry's heart.

Something had happened to Slim; there was no doubt about that. What was it? Injury? Death? Capture?

Again Jerry gave their mutual Brighton signal: "Whip-poor-will."

"He can't be entirely out of hearing," he argued. "There's some reason why he doesn't answer." It was fast growing dark. Sliding the pack-set and their other paraphernalia into a little gully which he easily could identify later, but where it would be entirely hidden from the view of anyone else who might chance upon the scene, Jerry set out in search of his friend.

It was a difficult task that he set himself, for he knew no more than the general direction that Slim had taken. But remembering that his chum had started off down the ravine, and that his purpose was to reach a higher hill a quarter of a mile away, Jerry took that route, too.

Two or three times as he stumbled along he s.n.a.t.c.hed out his pocket searchlight and was about to use it, when some sixth sense, plus the mystery of Slim's absence, prevailed upon him to take his chances in the darkness.

Coming out of the ravine, he turned to the left and, by a steep incline, reached a ledge that seemed to be a natural pathway to one of the higher peaks.

Suddenly the heart within him seemed to stop beating.

Somewhere ahead of him, but seemingly upon a lower level of ground, men were talking! And they were talking in German!

As though a bullet had struck him, Jerry dropped forward upon the ground. Grasping the outstretched roots of a tree, he pulled himself up within its heavy black shadow. There, scarcely daring to breathe for fear of attracting attention, he lay and listened.

He thanked Brighton then for his understanding of the German language.

Slim Goodwin was a prisoner, and those men--how many there were of them he could not tell--were questioning him! Slim was pretending not to understand.

Jerry's brain worked rapidly. There was no use of his returning to the wireless and attempting to summon help that way, for even if aid was sent it would be hours before it could arrive, and, presuming that the rescuers could find the spot, there was every likelihood that the Germans would have departed with their prisoner before that time. No, a.s.suredly, if Slim was to be rescued, he, Jerry, must do it. But how?

As he lay there thinking, he heard the one who seemed to be the officer in charge order another man to build a fire. As it crackled and began to blaze up, the reflection of the flame gave Jerry their exact location.

Also it formed a curtain of light against which it would have been easy for him to have seen any Boche sentinel or outpost, had there been one between him and them.

a.s.suring himself that there was not, he crept cautiously forward, foot by foot, until he was at the edge of the shelf of rock and could gaze almost directly down upon them. The fire gave good illumination. There was a young German lieutenant and four of his men. A short distance away, in the shelter of some trees, five horses were tethered.

Slim finally had consented to talk--if what he was doing could be called talking. And in what was purposely the most miserably broken German imaginable, he was telling them that he got separated from his unit several days ago (which was true), and that he had been wandering about that part of the country for the last couple of days (which also was true), and that he did not know where he was (which likewise was the truth).

While this was going on Jerry had scribbled upon a piece of paper: "Am near. Look lively if they sleep." This he wrapped around a small stone.

For a moment all the Germans turned toward the fire, where one of the men was preparing supper. In that instant Jerry tossed the message straight at Slim's feet.

Slim gave a little start, recovered himself immediately, stooped over, and, pretending to wash his hands in the snow, unwrapped and hastily read the note, and then trampled it into the ground. When one of the Germans turned suddenly, he was innocently drying his hands.

CHAPTER XIX

TURNING THE TABLES

To Jerry, lying there half frozen, stiff in every joint and scarcely daring to move for fear of making some sound that might not only divulge his presence and result in his own capture, but also prevent the escape of Slim, it seemed that never did it take men so long to eat a meal.

And as they ate, his own appet.i.te became ravenous. The cruelest punishment of all was to lie there half starved and hear them vulgarly smacking their lips over the warmed-up remains of a chicken undoubtedly filched from a countryside barnyard.

But at last, after what seemed to Jerry to have been hours of feasting, they did finish. With a derisive laugh the German lieutenant gathered all the bones from every other tin plate and shoved them, with mock courtesy, toward Slim.

The latter was biding his time, and, his courage increased by knowledge that his friend was close by, refused to get angry. He merely waved the plate aside.

Their stomachs filled, the Germans almost immediately began to think about sleep. In truth, they all looked as though they had been up all of the night before, as probably they had. One of them, a mere youth certainly not yet out of his teens and the youngest in the party, yawned. The lieutenant saw it, and in a fit of apparently unreasonable anger said, in his native tongue: