Roger's words ended in a mumble. Jimmy, thinking his companion had been shot, turned quickly in time to see a man standing behind Roger with an upraised club. He had struck Roger on the head, knocking him down. Jimmy opened his mouth to utter a yell, though why he could hardly have told, and he was about to bring his rifle to bear on the assailant of his chum when Jimmy himself felt a stunning blow on his head just beneath his steel helmet. He went down limply, his eyes seeing nothing but blackness. And as the two lads were struck down, their two assailants, who had leaped from behind concealing trees to take advantage of the panting, exhausted Khaki Boys, looked at one another with satisfaction. "Now we've got 'em!" cried one. "I should say so!" declared the other. "This'll end their tricks! Now, what'll we do with 'em?" "Haul 'em up to the top of the hill and dump 'em over the cliff into the river. That'll get 'em out of the way and it won't be awkward for us. Come on, you drag one and I'll tackle the other!" And suiting their action to these words, the two assailants hauled Roger and Jimmy to the edge of a cliff not far from where the two chums had been struck down. A moment later two limp bodies were pushed over the edge and there were two splashes in the foaming river that was studded by cruel rocks. CHAPTER XVI ONLY TWO LEFT "Whew, that was some fight!" "I say de same by you, Bobby!" It was Iggy who made the last remark and Bob Dalton who spoke first. They had swept on with their companions in arms, crashing their way through the German lines, and now the order had come to cease firing. It would not do for too large a number of the cheering, victorious Americans to get beyond the protection of their big guns, and this was likely if they rushed on much farther. "Got any water in your can, Iggy?" went on Bob, as they sat, or rather, "flopped," down on the ground, exhausted, as were their comrades. "If you haven't any, I have some I'll share with you." "I have some quiteness of vodah--I mean wat-ter--left," said Iggy. "Und jolly much goot will she taste now." "You said something, pal!" declared a wounded soldier near by. "Some Fritzie put a slug through my canteen, and there isn't a drop in it, and I'm as dry as a boneless herring." "Here!" cried Bob, instantly offering his water flask. "Take as much as you want. I can get more." "Don't be too positive of that, buddy," said the wounded man. "But I certainly do appreciate a swallow of this. Guess I'm booked to go back," he said, as he looked at his mangled hand. Poor fellow! He never was to use it again. The scenes all about Bob and Iggy were too filled with horror to bear repeating. Though the Americans had swept on victorious, driving the Huns before them and out of their trenches, yet it was at a price. Perhaps, from a military standpoint, not too heavy a price to pay for victory, but still a price.