"Five," said the last of the escort. "Us three started for home with eight, but something hit the rest of 'em--T-M bomb, I reckon." "Sure it was," said the Canadian who had arrived first. "Don't I know? I got a chunk of it in my leg." He stooped and fumbled at the calf of his right leg. The adjutant turned a light on him, and the man extended his hand, dripping with blood. "You beat it for the M. O., my lad," said the colonel. Five more prisoners came in under a guard of two; and then six more of the raiders arrived, two of whom were carrying Lieut. Smith. The lieutenant's head was bandaged roughly, and the dressing was already soaked with blood. "We did them in, sir," he said thickly to the colonel. "Caught them in bunches--and bombed three dugouts." He was carried away, still muttering of the fight. By that time the majority of the other parties were in. Several of the men were wounded--and they had brought their dead with them, three in number. The Germans had turned their trench mortars on their own front line from their support trenches. "They're not all in yet," said Capt. Keen. "Hammer isn't in." Just then Dick Starkley slid into the trench. "That you, Dick? Did you see Mr. Hammer? Or Frank Sacobie? Or Bruce McDonald?" "I have McDonald--but some one's got to help me lift him over," said Dick breathlessly. "Heavy as a horse--and hit pretty bad!" Two men immediately slipped over the top and hoisted big McDonald into the trench. Hiram Sill put a hand on Dick's shoulder. "Dave Hammer and Sacobie," he whispered, "are still out. Hadn't we better--" "Right," said Dick. "Come on out." He turned to Capt. Scammell. "Please don't let the guns shorten for a minute or two, sir; Sill and I have to go out again." Without waiting for an answer they whipped over the sandbags. Hiram was back in two minutes. He turned on the fire step and received something that Dick and Frank Sacobie lifted over to him. It was Dave Hammer, unconscious and breathing hoarsely, with his eyes shut, his borrowed tunic drenched with mud and blood and one of his bestarred sleeves shot away. Capt. Scammell swayed against the colonel and, for a second, put his hand to his eyes. "Steady, lad, steady," said the colonel in a queer, cracked voice. "Keen, tell the guns to drop on their front line with all they've got--and then some." To the whining and screeching of our shells driving low overhead and the tumultuous chorus of their exploding, passed the undismayed soul of Lieut. David Hammer of the Canadian Infantry. Heedless of the coming and going of the shells and the quaking of the parapet, Sacobie sat on the fire step with his hands between his knees and stared fixedly at nothing; but Hiram Sill and young Dick Starkley wept without thought of concealment, and their tears washed white furrows down their blackened faces. CHAPTER VII PETER WRITES A LETTER