Dennis had planted one foot on the firm ground when a skewer-like bayonet passed within an inch of his ear; and with a disappointed roar its owner flung a pair of terrible arms about him, and the two rolled backwards into the hole again. "Now you had better say your prayers, Boche!" growled his assailant, as a hairy hand closed on his throat; "I am going to kill you!" CHAPTER XXIX An Old Friend--and a Bitter Enemy! The terrified German herd sprang aside as the two figures hurtled down through the middle of them. Arms were raised sky-high, and quavering voices clamoured "Mercy, Kamerad--we surrender!" but never a finger was lifted to help Dennis. He lay on his back looking into the bloodshot eyes of his old acquaintance, Aristide Puzzeau, who, having dropped his rifle as they rolled, was searching grimly for his knife. "Puzzeau, you fool!" gurgled the lad, as the huge paw of the Herculean _poilu_ tightened its pressure on his throat. "Eh, what!" exclaimed the Alsatian. "Who are you, then?" And the terrible grip relaxed ever so slightly. "Look again," was the reply, and Dennis managed to tear Carl Heft's grey tunic open wide enough to reveal the khaki shirt and tie of an English officer. "_Zut alors!_" cried the man, greatly puzzled; "still I do not know you!" It was hardly to be wondered at, for the face of his captive was encrusted with chalky mud and badly wanted a shave. "How goes it with the brave Commandant you and I carried out of action that night we silenced the machine-gun? Do you remember now, thickhead?" "_Mon Dieu!_" exclaimed Aristide Puzzeau, "Mon Lieutenant, you have saved me from a great crime! But why will you keep such bad company? Let us embrace!" And he kissed him on both cheeks. "And you have saved me from a most unpleasant death, my brave fellow," said Dennis, rubbing his throat; "and now you must save these wretched beasts who are my prisoners." The corporal clapped a hand to his head like one in a dream as the men of his company, whom he had outstripped, reached the edge of the crater above them. "Halt, my boys!" roared the corporal with the full strength of his leathern lungs, but he made a wry face and scowled savagely. "If I had my way, mon Lieutenant, we would take no prisoners, hands up or hands down," he said; "we are too soft-hearted in this war." The howl of disappointment from the French Territorials mingled with the piteous whine of the terrified Germans, and before he scrambled after Puzzeau out of the hole, Dennis rid himself of the grey tunic and slacks, and stood revealed in his proper character. "_Ma foi!_" said the captain of the company, as he shook hands heartily with him, "you have indeed had a marvellous escape, my friend, but there is firing in the wood over yonder; I shall leave twelve men to escort this scum to our lines, and you will no doubt wish to proceed with them--unless you care to renew your acquaintance with your old comrades, the----"