“Let’s go meet them!” Herbert shouted; then turned, laughing. “Any of you fellows had dinner recently?” “Me for chicken, waffles and ice cream, P.D.Q.!” “Mush and molasses wouldn’t go bad, but I could stand steak!” “A good old Irish stew for mine, with plenty of gravy!” “Can’t we make a short cut, Lieutenant?” They could and did; straight down the hill, through the dense thickets, everyone racing, but Don was well in the lead, this sort of thing being familiar work to him. Suddenly he halted, dodged back and much effort was required of him to stop all of the others. “Herb, there’s a bunch of Huns ahead, with machine guns.” Herbert peeped. “They’re in a position to do our boys an awful lot of damage. We could get around them, but we won’t. Ready, men; we’re going to take that crowd by surprise. There are nine of them, two depleted squads, but if we surprise them quickly----” “They are our meat, Lieutenant,” the corporal said and Kelly echoed: “We’ll eat ’em alive!” Down on all fours went the five, creeping in single file after Herbert, who, in turn, followed Don. Around a cluster of birches they crept; then into a mass of prickly furze that shielded them well and yet could prove a telltale if much disturbed. This occasioned slow going, but beyond was a clearer space with clumps of high grass as a wide shield. Don caught the advantage, whispered to Herbert and the commander motioned to the three others to come up, all then having an even start. After a little pause the word was given and a second later the five men were leaping down, straight at the machine gunners and almost behind the Huns, all of whom were gazing expectantly into the valley. A German officer wheeled about and his hand went to his pistol; someone fired and the fellow dropped. Another grabbed a gun, making a club of it, and a pistol shot put him out of business. The other officer tried to swing the machine gun around, but a rifle butt full in his face jarred the notion out of him. The remaining men, more surprised than if a snow squall had struck them and taken completely off their guard, saw no alternative but to fling their arms upward and shout rather unintelligible German, one word of which was recognized as “_kamerad_.” Ten minutes later, disarmed, but not appearing terribly dejected, the six able-bodied fellows, carrying their injured comrades, were headed down through the woods. Putting the machine guns out of action caused Herbert a moment’s delay; Don remained by him. One of the prisoners addressed the latter in pure German, of which the boy understood enough to get the general meaning. “Herb, he says there’s an _Amerikaner_, wounded, back here in the bushes. It may be Gill. Had we better go see?” “Sure! You and I. Corporal, hold those chaps; if they try to make a break, you men know what to do. Come on, Don!”