"Now," whispered Barcroft at the expiration of another long ten minutes. "Ankle all right, old man?" "Quite," replied Fuller mendaciously. It was far from right, but the flight-lieutenant, game to the core, had no intention of letting his chums know that every time he set foot to the ground excruciating pains racked him. Across the clayey soil, now almost knee-deep in mud, the daring trio literally floundered, their immediate objective being the endmost of a line of tall trees at a distance of fifty yards from the cross-roads. "Steady!" cautioned Billy as the _pavé_, glistening even in the gloom, became visible. "I'll push on and see that the coast is clear. Back in a brace of shakes." The trees cast sombre shadows as the flight sub drew near; rain, closely approaching sleet, fell in a steady downpour; the wind had resumed its doleful whine. Altogether the climatic conditions were horrible. "This is absolutely the limit," thought Billy, until his characteristic optimism reasserted itself. "Perhaps it's as well, though. The Huns don't like sticking it and have departed. A fine night and our risks would be greatly increased." He pulled up with startling suddenness. Less than ten paces ahead of him was a German sentry. Sheltering under the lee of the outer most tree the fellow was actually looking straight in the flight-sub's direction. For several seconds Barcroft stood stock still, debating whether to throw himself upon the man or seek safety in flight. The sentry, his coat-collar turned up and his hands resting upon the muzzle of his rifle, appeared as immobile as if fashioned of stone. He was an oldish man. The flight-sub was certain of that fact; more, he wore glasses. "A Landsturmer, and as blind as a bat," thought the young officer. "There were three sentries, then; two have gone to the estaminet, the old boy is told to remain at his post. Now what's to be done? Something, or Fuller and Kirkwood will be forging ahead to find me and then there'll be damage done." Very cautiously Barcroft began to back away from the unsuspecting Hun. The man coughed and hunched his shoulders still more. At the sound Billy again stood rigid, half expecting the sentry to slope arms and resume his beat. Nothing happening, the flight-sub withdrew as silently and stealthily as the slippery state of the _pavé_ permitted. "Well?" whispered the A.P. "Hist!" was Barcroft's only reply, then grasping his companions by their arms he led them back until they were well out of the sentry's hearing--even supposing that he possessed the normal use of his ears. "A Boche over there," reported Barcroft. "Nearly rammed him broadside on. Blind as a bat; a regular septuagenarian. We'll make a slight detour and have another shot at crossing the road. It's open country beyond." This time the highway presented no difficulty, and with renewed vigour the trio struggled through the tenacious slime beyond.