With a single leap—and no one to this day knows why he adopted that method of attack, except that men often do strange things in the stress of battle,—Ollie was upon the back of the man trying the bayonetting. His two arms were gripped about the German’s throat, and his feet were twined affectionately around his waist and over the stomach. From all appearances he was there to stay awhile. The other German—he who had been so seriously intent upon crushing Tom’s head in with the butt of his rifle—was so startled by the strange performance that he stood gazing as though stricken, while Tom with a sudden wrench took the gun from him and added him to the list of prisoners. But by this time a dozen men on both sides had abruptly suspended hostilities to watch the antics of the big German with Ollie on his back. The latter seemed to be enjoying it as much as anybody. The Hun first clawed desperately to disengage Ollie’s strangle grip upon his throat, and failing in that, vainly transferred the same tactics to disengaging himself from the latter’s feet. But Ollie held the whip hand. Or rather, he held the bayonet hand; and with this weapon, rather more effective than a cavalryman’s spur, he reached backward and downward and gave the German a none too gentle jab just beneath where he himself sat perched. “Dunder und blitzen!” shouted the big Boche, as he began to buck viciously to dislodge Ollie from his back. Even the Germans who were looking on laughed. But even as they did so they realized that they had let down their guard and that everyone of them within range was covered with an American rifle and was a prisoner unless he preferred sudden death. They realized that the Americans could conduct warfare and enjoy a little humorous diversion at the same time. It was a shock to several of them, but they seemed suddenly to realize that it was good, rather than bad, fortune, and they gave themselves up entirely to the enjoyment of their comrade’s misery. “’At a boy,” yelled one Company C man to Ollie, “make ’im prance.” And Ollie, enjoying himself immensely and not at all loth to give his companions all the fun they desired, suddenly loosened one foot, gave his mount a quick backward kick in the stomach, which elicited a tremendous grunt, and amid a shout of laughter which made men many yards distant turn suddenly in their fighting, the German started off at a full gallop toward his own lines. For a few moments it looked bad for Ollie, unless he elected to make a quick drop, for none of the Americans dared shoot at the Boche for fear of hitting him. But either blinded by his rage, or bewildered by the sudden trick that fate, in the shape of a young American, had played upon him, the German suddenly turned, made two or three more grotesque bows in futile effort to throw Ollie from his back, and then came racing back toward the American lines.