There was a great gash in Bart’s forehead from which the blood had flowed freely. His face was as pale as chalk except where it was streaked with blood, his eyes were closed and he showed no sign of life. But just as Frank was fearing the worst, Tom gave an exclamation of relief. “He’s alive,” he cried. “His heart is beating.” “Thank God!” exclaimed Frank fervently and was echoed by Billy. “But I’m afraid he’s pretty badly hurt. We’ve got to get him to the hospital in a hurry.” He called out to a couple of litter bearers and they hurried toward him. With infinite care and tenderness they lifted Bart and put him on the stretcher. They would have taken him to the hospital themselves, but that was the work of the bearers, and duty held the boys to the line that might at any moment be assailed by the Germans in a counter-attack. “Good old Bart!” murmured Frank. “He’s alive anyway and while there’s life there’s hope.” “Bart’s luck will stand by him, all right,” prophesied Billy, reassuringly. “But that was a fearful swipe he had across his forehead. It must have been made by a bayonet.” “I don’t think so,” said Tom, who had been looking about him. “See that stump? It’s covered with blood. Bart stumbled over a body or something and struck his head against this stump and it’s knocked him out.” Further conjectures were deferred by a sharp, quick summons for the men to get back into line. An aviator had signaled that the Huns were again preparing to attack with fresh regiments that had been hastily brought up, and the old Thirty-seventh, like the veterans they had become, hurriedly consolidated their positions and awaited the worst that the enemy could bring against them. Just then there was a stir in the lines and a staff officer, in the uniform of a colonel, came galloping up, attended by an orderly. He dismounted, threw the reins to the orderly and came up to a group of the Thirty-seventh’s officers. “Who is in command here?” he asked briskly. Major Willis, who had charge of that portion of the line, stepped forward and saluted. “I am,” he declared. “Orders from headquarters,” said the newcomer, as he returned the salute. “You are to retire from this position at once and fall back to your former line of defense. The enemy has been so strongly reinforced that it is inadvisable to remain where you are.” The major looked his surprise and seemed about to protest, but instinctively discipline asserted itself and he again saluted and turned to give the necessary orders. The boys had been standing near enough to hear the conversation, and Frank, happening to catch sight of Tom’s face, was startled. His face was pale and his eyes were blazing. “What is it, Tom?” he asked in a low voice and put his hand on his comrade’s arm. But Tom shook off his hand and sprang forward. His voice rang out like a trumpet. “It’s a lie!” he shouted. “That man is a German spy! Seize him! Seize him!” CHAPTER II TRAPPED