Momentary confusion followed Ned’s cry and his fall, and those nearest him, when they saw the blood, felt a good deal of alarm. But efficient officers were in charge of the drilling squads, and a few sharp orders sufficed to bring the men back in line, while an examination was made of the injured lad. He was bleeding freely, but when his shirt was taken off it was seen that a bayonet had struck him a glancing blow, cutting a long, but not deep, gash in the fleshy part of his back. “How did this happen? Did any one see it?” asked the officer in charge of the instruction. “It was----” began a lad who had been standing next to Ned. “I did it!” growled out the unpleasant voice of Pug Kennedy. “But I didn’t mean to.” “I should hope not,” commented the officer, rather sharply. “But how did it happen?” “He leaned over and got right in my way just as I was making a lunge,” explained the fighter. “I tried to hold back my gun but it was too late.” The officer looked sharply at Kennedy, but there seemed to be no good reason why his word should be doubted. “Very well,” said Captain Reel, who was giving the bayonet instruction. “Only be more careful after this. Save such strokes for the Germans. We can’t afford to lose any of our soldiers. This will be all for to-day.” Ned had been carried to the infirmary, and thither, having received permission to do so, went Bob and Jerry. They were met by an orderly who, on hearing their inquiries, told them that Ned’s wound was not at all serious, and that he would be kept in his bed only long enough to make sure there would be no infection from the steel and to enable the wound to heal slightly. Later in the day they were allowed to see their chum. Ned was on a cot in the infirmary, and he smiled at Jerry and Bob. “Oh, I’m not out of the game for long,” he said, in answer to their inquiries. “I’ll be a bit stiff for a day or so, the doc says, but it’ll soon wear off.” “How did it happen?” asked Jerry. “Did you really get in his way as he says you did?” “I didn’t know it if I did,” answered Ned. “I was just making a lunge myself, and I’d been doing it right along, so I knew my distance.” “He did it on purpose,” insisted Bob. “I was talking to the fellow who was on the other side of Pug Kennedy, and he says there was plenty of room. He did it on purpose to get even with you, Ned, for the way he was caught the other night, when he tried to run the guard.” “Oh, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” objected Jerry. “Pug Kennedy is a scrapper, and he doesn’t like us. But I don’t believe he’d deliberately try to bayonet a chap.” “Well, I don’t know what to believe,” returned Ned. “I thought I had plenty of room on each side of me, but my foot may have slipped. Or maybe Pug’s may have done the same thing.” “He made it slip!” declared Bob. “He wanted to get square with you and he took that way.”