Nor had the boys themselves come through the terrible battle and their own harrowing experiences entirely unscathed. Tom, who had escaped wounds, was now bewailing the misfortune which had led him, crawling, one day during the attack, through a clump of weeds which had badly poisoned the left hand and arm. He had had two days under a surgeon’s treatment, and though on the way to speedy recovery, still had the damaged member swathed in drug-soaked bandages. George Harper could tell what it felt like when a bullet cut its way across his scalp, just a fraction of an inch above the point where it would have meant his instant death. As Ollie put it, George had established a new style of coiffure for the army, parting his hair across, in the direction from ear to ear. Ollie’s own optimism, however, was often strained as his face twitched with the pain from a badly sprained ankle which compelled him still to hobble around with a cane. And Ollie could trace his own pain and discomfort directly to a German, although the latter paid the worst penalty in the scrimmage, which involved the Hun, Ollie and a Frenchman who had come upon the scene in time to participate in the conclusion of the hostilities. It was one of those personal encounters which were so frequent in the fighting in the woods. Ollie had come face to face with a Boche nearly twice his size in a thick clump of trees whose heavy foliage made the place almost as dark as night in mid-day. The German was out of ammunition, but evidently having heard or seen the young American approaching, he had the butt of his rifle posed for a crashing blow over Ollie’s scalp when that wide-awake youth realized his position and the necessity for instant action. It was too late to retreat, and he had lost his own gun ten minutes before and also was without bullets for his revolver. He dodged, just as the gun descended, and as the heavy butt of the rifle came down upon his shoulders he grabbed the German by the legs and upset him. But Ollie also went down at the same time, and under the weight of the massive Boche. He wriggled free and had partially arisen when the German again threw his more than two hundred pounds of avoirdupois upon him. The force of the impact was such that something had to give way, and it was the ankle upon which most of the load came. In the excitement of the moment Ollie did not even feel a twinge of pain, for it was a life and death struggle, with all the odds in favor of the German. It was just at that moment that the Frenchman put in his appearance. With a glitter in his eyes that seemed to reflect all the stored-up wrath and hatred of France against the German race, the poilu raised his gun, butt-end first, just as the German had done when Ollie came upon him. But this time it was the German who was the intended victim, and he could not escape while the youthful American retained his iron grasp around his knees.