There had been several accidents in camp, and just before Jerry, Bob and Ned had arrived two men had been killed by the premature explosion of a hand grenade. It was no wonder then, that, as the young soldiers saw the instrument of death so near them, and realized that in another moment the missiles might be hurled among them, fear clutched their hearts. “Down! Down!” shouted the lieutenant again, running along the wide trench, in crouching fashion, to see that his command was enforced. “Get down, every one!” Only in this way could danger be in a measure averted, and yet the explosion, so near at hand, might cave in the trench, burying the boys. Not more than a second or two had passed since Pug, by his recklessness, had created the danger, and yet it seemed like hours to some, as they gazed with fascinated eyes at the bomb so near them. It needed only a fraction more of time to bring about the explosion. And yet in that fraction Jerry Hopkins acted. Before any one was aware of his intention he had leaped up on the firing step of the trench, and was out, with a shovel in his hand. “What are you going to do?” yelled the lieutenant. “Come back! You’ll be killed! That bomb’s going off!” Jerry did not stop to answer. There was no time. Neither was there time to argue over disobeying one’s superior officer. Jerry knew he had to act quickly, and he did. With one scoop of his shovel he picked the grenade up in it, and, with the same motion, he sent the deadly missile hurtling over toward the other trench, in which there were no soldiers stationed. With all his strength, and as far as he could, Jerry hurled the grenade, and it had no sooner landed in the other trench, far enough away to be harmless to the practicing squad, than it exploded. Up in the air flew a shower of earth and stones, a few particles reaching Jerry, who was out of the trench, and some distance in advance of it. For a moment after the echoes of the explosion died away there was silence, and then came a ringing and spontaneous cheer. The soldier lads realized that Jerry had saved the lives of some of them, and had prevented many from severe injury. “Great work, my boy! Well done!” cried the lieutenant, as Jerry dropped back into the trench, and the officer shook hands with the tall lad. “It was the only thing to do, that I could see,” Jerry explained. “I didn’t want to pick the grenade up in my hand, but I thought I could swing it out of the way with the shovel.” “And you certainly did,” the lieutenant said. “As for you, Kennedy, I saw how you threw that bomb. It was against orders. You have been told to use the overhand swing, and because you did not you dropped the grenade too close to the trench. It was a violation of orders and a serious one. You may consider yourself under arrest.” Pug received only what was due him, but the look he gave Jerry told that lad he might look for some retaliation on the part of the bully.