He halted and faced his enemies, but showed no signs of giving in. The men crept forward, still covering him with their rifles. He was angry at the thought of being taken prisoner again. If recognized he would be shot off-hand. This was not at all likely although he was not aware of it. Providence intervened in the shape of a shell which hurtled into the midst of the creeping men. There was a terrific explosion. Alan reeled in the saddle, recovered by a great effort, and managed to control his frightened horse. He was struck on the forehead but fortunately the peak of his cap saved him. Still the effect was stunning, stupefying. A whistling in the air and another shell burst, throwing up a cloud of mud and dirt round him, thus lessening the danger of being badly hit. His enemies were cut up, shattered; but he had to ride for his life to avoid the shells. He was in danger from his friends. The horse was equal to the emergency and sped across the open space at a great pace. The solitary horseman seemed to puzzle the gunners, for they ceased firing. Probably he had been recognized as an officer escaping from the enemy. He waved his cap and, taking all risks, galloped toward the Allies' lines. He knew where he was now. These trenches were the nearest to headquarters and in a few minutes he would be in safety. Something trickled down his face. He brushed it aside with his hand--blood--his wound was more serious than he thought. His left arm pained--blood on the sleeve. His left thigh twinged sharply--there was blood here also. "Must have had a narrow squeak," he thought. He felt faint, inclined to swoon, but held on to his horse firmly. His head swam, his sight grew dim, he heard a roar from the front trench and then--oblivion. When he came to he was being attended behind the firing line. He wondered where he was, and tried to sit up, but fell back exhausted. The doctor told him to keep still. He slept several hours. When he awoke he was in the ambulance, jolting farther away from the line. It was twenty-four hours or more before he was able to stand. Once on his legs he quickly recovered and, asking for his horse, which was near at hand, declared his intention of riding to headquarters. The doctor protested; but when Alan explained who he was and the nature of his mission no further objections were raised. "You have had a marvelous escape," said the doctor, looking at him admiringly. "You are a brave man." Alan smiled as he thanked him, saying there would have been many officers who would have been glad of the chance to take his place and run the risks. He rode to headquarters and was heartily welcomed. In a few moments he stood before his chief, who held out his hand, shook his heartily, and congratulated him. It was then Alan learned it had been reported that he was shot in Bruges as a spy. No doubt this report had been made in order to save the men responsible for his escape through the lines.