Rapid progress was made and the platoon had, without incident, reached the spot where Morgan had shot the sentry, the man’s body still lying where it had fallen. Just at this spot the leaders, Morgan and Grout, sensed danger ahead. There were unmistakable evidences of the presence of a camp: the slight and almost indefinable sounds that must come from a large number of men, even though many are sleeping, for a combined loud breathing pulsates on the night air not unlike the ticking of a clock. The Yanks halted; stood waiting, listening, hardly expecting anything to occur and when it did two of them never knew it. The dense forest was lighted up for yards around and the detonation was heard for miles. Probably some shrewd officer of the enemy surmised that a relief expedition would come along in the way of the death-dealing messenger had gone out and a mine had been laid, with an automatic set-off, no doubt. The odd thing, however, was that more than half the Yanks had gone past before the mine was set off and that the two men, who were literally blown to bits, had debouched from the path that Morgan had taken. It appeared afterward that the messenger had turned aside to pass around the body of the sentry, merely pointing it out to Grout, and the act had saved the lives of many of the men, not one other of whom was hurt. The explosion, however, was a signal to the foe. In half a minute there was a curtain of fire being spread out down the ravine from above and probably every one in the enemy camp ahead was up and busy with rifles and machine guns. But the trees were thick, the rocks on the hillsides made good shelter, there could be no marksmanship in the darkness. As a matter of fact, not until long afterward did the aroused Germans know whether they had been shooting at one man or one thousand; indeed, it might have been a hare that had set off the mine. Grout was a quick-witted fellow; Morgan, as we have seen, equally so. The advantage for the Americans lay in the darkness and the density of the woods. The orders, given more by motions than by words, and the latter in whispers, were to keep down and get back a little. This done, they climbed the steep side of the ravine and followed its slope just below the fringe of bushes on its crest, keeping forward and parallel to the gully. In this way they were out of the zone of fire and they came out on the level ground above to within fifty yards of the disturbed Huns, who were still shooting down the ravine. This was a remarkable piece of work; both as a matter of leadership, and as a streak of pure good luck it was almost unique. That fifteen men should so elude a watchful foe and get entirely through its lines untouched, especially after the mine incident had doubly alarmed the Huns, is almost beyond belief.