The next instant Frank's rifle spoke. The man flung out his arms, toppled over and fell with a crash into the gorge that the tree overhung. The rifle clanged after him. There would be no more sniping by that particular marksman from that particular tree. There was a shout from the squad who had witnessed the duel, and as Frank slid down the tree he was greeted with acclamations. "A nervy thing, Sheldon," commended Wilson. "He almost got me, though," returned Frank. "It was a case of touch and go." "He was a brave man," was the tribute of the corporal, "though that particular kind of work has always seemed to me something like murder. He shot his victims without giving them a chance. His work on land was that of the U-boats on the sea--a species of assassination." The squad went on with special caution and with a close watch on the trees. But noon came without further adventure and they got out their rations and prepared to enjoy them at the foot of a spreading maple. They were perhaps half way through the meal, which they had seasoned with jokes and laughter, when there was a rustling in the bushes near at hand. Instantly they leaped to their feet and reached for their rifles. "Who goes there?" demanded the corporal. There was no answer. "Answer or we shoot!" cried Wilson. The bushes parted and a young peasant girl stepped forth. She was a pretty girl of about eighteen. Her face bore the marks of tears, her hair was dishevelled, and she was in a state of extreme agitation. She began to talk feverishly and with many gestures. "Here, Sheldon," said the corporal, "you speak French. See if you can understand what the girl is saying." Frank stepped forward. "_Que voulez-vous, Mademoiselle?_" he asked. The relief of the girl when she heard her own language was evident. "These are English soldiers, Monsieur?" she asked. "No," said Frank, "they are Americans." "Oh, _les braves Americains_!" she exclaimed. "How glad I am! I know you will help me." "Be sure of that," replied Frank. "But tell me now just what has happened." "The boches," she answered. "They are at our house." "How many are there?" asked Frank with quickened interest. "About thirty," she replied. Then as she saw Frank glance at the ten who made up his party, she went on: "But you can capture them, I am sure. They are drugged." "Drugged?" "Yes. They came to our house early this morning. They upset everything. They smashed the furniture. They tied my father and brother in chairs. They said they were going to burn the house when they got ready to go away." "But how were they drugged?" "They made me get them all the food and wine there was in the house. I did so. I put some laudanum in the wine. They ate and drank. Then they got sleepy. They dropped off one by one. Then I ran out to find help. I find you. Heaven is good." Frank consulted the corporal as the others crowded around in great excitement. The corporal meditated.