“What kind of a trick?” Herbert asked, and Judson explained, an idea that took with every one of the squad. Herbert was enthusiastic. “You ought to get a commission for that, Judson! Oughtn’t he, Don? It’s a crackerjack and we all agree to it. Now, then, let’s get to work on the whole idea. Some of these flat stones will do for a couple of dugouts; all we’ve got to do is to remove some of the stones to go down several feet. Each one ought to be big enough to hold five men, sitting down; we’ve got to sleep any old way.” CHAPTER XV STRATEGY WITH three men on watch and eight working like beavers, silently and effectively, the two partly excavated and stone-built shelters were completed in little more than two hours. Tomlinson, a brick mason and with a head for construction generally, was given direction of the work. From the fact that a little noise could not be avoided and indeed was desirable, the Huns were sure that the Yanks were alert. But with all quiet a little later it must have seemed more opportune for a night attack. That such would come the squad had no doubt and, therefore, it proceeded to put young Judson’s scheme into practice. It was very certain that no attempt would be made by the enemy to penetrate the dense thickets on the up-hill side; it could never get through without lights. And so the squad began assembling a low breastworks of stones on the up-hill side and but a few yards beyond the rock basin. Forming a line behind this in order that every man’s rifle would command the basin, the Yanks set themselves to patiently waiting. “A ol’ deer stand ain’t nothin’ to this fer expectin’,” Jennings remarked to Gill. “More like waitin’ for bear,” was Gill’s reply. “It must be fast and sure work, boys,” Herbert said. “Don’t stop to see your sights, but get the glint all along the barrel and shoot low; always shoot low! You have McNabb’s rifle; eh, Don?” “Yes, and it’s all right; seems to throw lead just where you hold it. I tried it, just before it got dark, on a Hun who was cleaning his gun, away on the far side of their camp, and I knocked his gun out of his hands. I’ll bet he was some surprised.” This was said lightly; then the boy’s voice lowered and he spoke thoughtfully, as might an old friend and present comrade to another at such a time: “I think, old man, that in the football days back at Brighton we never could have imagined we would be together in anything quite like this.” “It would have been just dreaming, Don, if we had. Football! Child’s play! And yet in many a game we had as much determination to win as we have now. Funny; isn’t it, how the human mind can be swayed by big and little things to show similar tendencies? Professor Galpard would call that ‘a most interesting study in comparative psychology, young gentlemen;’ wouldn’t he?”