In vain the man threw up his hands to ward off the blow. The force behind it was too great. Hal, wheeling half around as he swung, brought the heavy butt of the rifle against the side of the German’s head with a crack. The man dropped limp at the boy’s feet.
Hal lowered his rifle, and stood for a moment over his fallen enemy, wiping his brow. Then he stooped over and relieved him of his other weapons, two automatic Colts. These he slipped in his pocket, and once more turned his face toward the spot where Chester lay, unaware of the terrible fight that had just occurred.
Hal whistled softly—the whistle of the old days in America—and, listening, heard Chester whistle softly in return.
Believing now that everything was safe, Hal left his fallen enemy behind, and started toward the spot where Chester was rising to his feet.
Hardly had he traversed half the distance, when there was another shot, and Hal saw Chester, who was advancing to meet him, topple to the ground.
Hal turned in the direction of the flash of the rifle, and, scarcely taking time to aim with his newly-acquired automatic, fired. His effort was rewarded with a howl of pain, but, as the lad started to run to where his fallen friend lay, there was another shot, and Hal felt a bullet whiz by his head.
Quickly he dropped to the ground, thinking that his unseen antagonist would believe him dead. He held his revolver ready, prepared to fire at the first sight of his enemy.
But the latter was not to be caught thus easily. Evidently he had heard of such subterfuges before. Hal waited patiently for some moments, and then, as there was no sign of his unseen enemy, he crawled slowly toward the spot where Chester had fallen.
What was his surprise to find that Chester was not there. For a moment Hal was stupefied, but his amazement was brought to an end by a low whistle, and, looking to the right, Hal beheld his friend behind a large tree.