And the yell of “Help!” twice repeated that rent the air was almost enough to wake the dead. The big Hun leaped forward and swung the butt of his gun at Herbert’s head, but the lad leaned back quickly and avoided it; then the fellow tried to kick the agile lieutenant in the face, but again without avail. Two of the other men went over to Don and Gill and threatened to shoot them. Don understood that much. He urged that it would be better not to risk too much by shouting more. But Gill was of a different opinion and obdurate; he would not then have taken orders from the President of the United States and he yelled again, as only a full-lunged mountaineer can yell. The flow of hasty and guttural German that resulted did not equal in ferocity the heavy-booted kicks that the American received from all four of the captors, taking turns that seemed to greatly satisfy them. They turned away and immediately Gill yelled, even louder than before. The biggest Hun caught up his rifle and put the muzzle against Gill’s head and the torrent of German that followed was like ten pigs in a pen clamoring for swill. The weapon was held in this position for some time; then was withdrawn with apparent reluctance and the very moment that the barrel was pointed elsewhere Gill set up another yell. Don undertook, then, a means of saving Gill from further torment. He rolled over in front of the mountaineer and with a grin and a shake of the head looked up at the Germans. The boy’s face was at once so kindly and youthful that even the big brute of a man hesitated while Don admonished Gill: “They will surely kill you if you keep it up. Why persist? For our sakes, Gill, please don’t yell again!” “I’d rather they would butcher me than keep me this-a-way and carry me off to have that old Kaiser feller rub it in on me!” Gill declared. “Maybe there’ll be a way out of this, Gill,” Herbert suggested. “Don’t yell again and let’s wait a bit.” Whereupon the mountaineer subsided and lay back upon the ground. Don bethought him to try a little German on their captors, but it fell flat. Either they did not understand him at all, or they affected not to; he got no reply. He addressed his countrymen: “If we could manage in some way to get them to loosen up on this twine, I’d feel almost like whistling a tune. These strings cut and there are some plagued mosquitoes around here.” “They’re here, too. I’m going to bite the legs off one presently,” Herbert affirmed. “Don’t you think it’s queer if our fellows out there didn’t hear us and Gill?” “Mighty funny if---- Lie low! I hear someone coming.” “In the brush yonder. A lot of them. More Huns, I suppose. They’ve stopped now. The Germans seem to hold this hill and we must have been right in the thick of them, Don. They’ll get our fellows, too, and turn our prisoners loose if they don’t keep a sharp eye.” “They’re coming on again, Herb. Our jailers are taking notice, too. Friend or foe, I wonder.”