"Well, no, I wouldn't have wished that," answered Stubbs. "But just the same when a man is attacked by a bunch of wild cats, the first thing he thinks of is help."
"But tell me, Mr. Stubbs," said Chester, "what were you doing in the road in the first place?"
"Why," muttered the little man, somewhat confused, "I was seeking to make out the number of the enemy so that I might tell you whether we were strong enough to defeat them."
"That's all right; I just wanted to know."
Mr. Stubbs peered out from behind the tree, and as he did so a German bullet went whizzing by. Mr. Stubbs hurriedly threw himself upon the ground.
"What's the matter?" demanded Chester, although he knew well enough.
"A slight illness," replied Mr. Stubbs. "I am somewhat faint. I fear I overexerted myself in my struggle with the wild cats."
He lay there behind the tree, stretched out at full length. Nor could he be induced to get to his feet.
Slowly the last half of a moon arose, giving a little light but making the shadows deeper.
Bullets whistled through the trees at regular intervals now, and wherever a man exposed himself the German sharpshooters ran him quickly back to cover or shot him down.