There were two or three villages in the fighting zone and one town of considerable size. Not that it was a town now in any real sense of the word. What had once been houses were now mere pitiful heaps of wood and stone and mortar, and their inhabitants had long since been dispossessed or slain. It stood gaunt and desolate and forbidding in its mute protest against the pitiless storm of war to which it had fallen a victim. In cleaning out a particularly obnoxious nest of machine gun positions Frank and his friends had been kept busy until nearly noon. But at last the guns were silenced and the crews wiped out or captured. The boys started to regain their main force, but the country was unfamiliar and they took a turning in the road which led toward the German lines instead of toward their own. "Gee!" remarked Tom as they trudged along, "maybe I'm not tired. My feet feel as though they weighed a ton." "Perhaps they do," gibed Billy unfeelingly. "Considering the size of them, I should say a ton was just about right." "I notice your hoofs are not so small," retorted Tom. "But how much longer is this hike going to take?" "Search me," responded Frank. "To tell the truth, I'm twisted up about the direction. Seems to me we ought to strike some of our troops soon." "It would be funny if we walked straight into the German lines," observed Billy. "Funny!" snorted Tom. "Yes, as funny as a funeral. Some people have a queer sense of humor." They were passing a hedge that walled off an orchard from the road when Frank, who was ahead, saw before him a great wave of gray uniforms coming around a bend in the road. "Quick, fellows," he whispered. "Over the hedge and down on the ground." Like a flash the boys were out of sight, and not one instant too soon, for a moment later they could see through the hedge what seemed to be an endless line of gray uniforms going past at the double quick. They were evidently hurrying forward to reinforce their hard-pressed comrades farther down the road. The boys lay still as death until the troops had passed, and then looked at each other ruefully. "We're cut off," ejaculated Frank. "Those fellows are between us and our line." "Looks pretty bad," said Bart. "This is a pretty kettle of fish," grumbled Tom. "Let's cut across the orchard and see if we can find some of our boys." They acted on the suggestion, but found to their dismay that the Germans were everywhere. In whatever direction they looked the only uniforms they saw were the detested field gray. The Germans had rallied and the boys had been caught in the swirl of the returning tide. "We'll have to hide somewhere until our men drive back the Huns and get as far as this orchard," said Billy. "We're up against it for fair," growled Tom disconsolately. "It's easy enough to talk of hiding, but where shall we hide?" asked Bart. "If we stay here above ground we're bound to be spotted before long."