“Yes, it does look that way.”
The little body of British troopers, only forty-eight of them all told, with Hal Paine and Chester Crawford as their guides, were reconnoitering ten miles in advance of the main army along the river Marne in the great war between Germany and the allied armies. For several hours they had been riding slowly without encountering the enemy, when, suddenly, as the little squad topped a small hill and the two boys gained an unobstructed view of the little plain below, Hal pulled up his horse with an exclamation.
Quickly he threw up his right hand and the little troop came to an abrupt halt.
“Germans!” he said laconically.
“And thousands of ’em,” said Chester. “They haven’t seen us yet. What is best to be done?”
The answer to this question came from the enemy. Several flashes of fire broke out along the German front, and the boys involuntarily ducked their heads as bullets sped whizzing past them.
“Well, they have seen us now,” said Hal; then turning to the men: “To the woods,” pointing with his sword to a dense forest on his right.
Rapidly the little body of men disappeared among the trees.
“Up in the trees,” ordered Hal, “and pick them off as they come!”