“We’ll have to run for it,” Wilson whispered. “We ought to be able to keep ahead of them until we reach the other end of the tunnel. It would be easy enough if we could see where we were going, but we’ll have to feel our way and make sure we don’t tumble into the canal. We’ve got the chance that they may make the same mistake that we did and smash into the canal wall. But then again they may know more about the way the canal runs and steer clear of it. Come along, now. I’ll lead the way and you fellows keep close behind me.” They started off at as rapid a pace as they dared in the pitch blackness and soon had the satisfaction of noting that the sound of oars had grown fainter, thus indicating that they were outdistancing their pursuers. They had kept this up for perhaps ten minutes when they caught sight of something that seemed like a star in the distance. But as they drew nearer they saw that it was a fire that had been built on the canal bank, and soon they could detect the figures of men moving about it. They stopped short for consultation. “There’s a patrol of some kind there,” said the corporal, as he strained his eyes, “and it isn’t likely that it’s anybody we care to meet. Sheldon, your eyes are the best. See if you can make out those uniforms.” “I think they’re Huns,” judged Frank, after a moment’s intense scrutiny. “But we’ll have to get a trifle closer before I can be sure of it.” They moved a hundred feet closer and then conjecture gave way to certainty. “No doubt about it,” pronounced Frank. “They’re Huns, as sure as shooting. And there are twenty of them if there’s one. They’re right in our path and there’s no getting around them.” It was grave news, and their pulses quickened as they recognized their peril. The corporal pondered a moment before reaching a decision. “We’re between two fires,” he said. “It would be suicide to go forward with our numbers and our scanty ammunition. With the fellows in the boats we’ve still got a chance. We’ll have to double on our tracks and try to get past the boats. When we hear them coming close, we’ll lie down flat on the path and trust to their passing us without seeing us. The only thing that will queer us will be if they happen to flash a light when they’re abreast of us.” The young soldiers followed him as he turned and started on the return journey, listening as they went for tokens of the enemy’s approach. Soon the sound of oars grew distinct. The corporal gave a whispered command and they flattened themselves on the bank as far away from the edge as possible. Nearer and nearer came the boat. They listened in vain for the second craft. It was evident that it was either far behind or perhaps had been left at the mouth of the tunnel to trap them when they should try to emerge. Closer, still closer the boat came, and the Army Boys lay like so many statues, holding their breath lest the slightest sound should betray them.