Not pausing to return the fire of the enemy, the fugitives stumbled on through the woods. Another and another volley came from the pursuing Germans, but they were firing at random now, and the fact that Hal and Chester had led the way well to the right augured well for their chance of safety.
But as the darkness made accurate shooting by the Germans impossible, so it made speed by the fugitives impossible also. They stumbled along as well as they could, now and then tripping over a fallen limb or tumbling into a hole. Tired and almost exhausted, they at length emerged into the open, and broke into a weary run.
“We have got to get under cover of some kind before they reach the edge of the woods, or we are gone goslings,” panted Hal.
Suddenly, in the darkness, they came upon another clump of trees, and as they stumbled into their shelter another volley rang out. One man groaned and stumbled. A comrade lent a supporting hand and dragged him into the woods.
“We’ll stop here a moment and pick off a few of ’em,” said Hal grimly.
The Germans were now advancing across the open space. Lying upon the ground, the nine opened fire. They aimed carefully and not a shot was wasted, and so rapid was their fire that the Germans halted.
“They don’t know how many of us there are,” said Hal, “and they are afraid to take a chance. One more volley, men, and then up and run for it again.”
A final volley was delivered with telling effect, and the English sprang to their feet and darted through the woods. The Germans gave them a parting shot, but there was no pursuit.
“That was pretty close,” said Chester.
“It was, indeed,” replied Hal, “and there is one more of our men gone. Was anyone wounded?” he asked, turning to the others.