“You’re getting to be a pretty fair shot with that gun of yours, Hal.”
“Thanks,” said Hal dryly. “You were so still and quiet when I found you, though, that I had begun to think I had done a pretty bad job.”
“Well,” said Chester, “we’re on the outside again, at all events. I don’t feel as well as I might, either, and I vote that we get away from here. I’d like to lay my hands on the Boche who is responsible for interrupting my sleep like this. I’d show him a thing or two.”
“Not in your present condition, I guess,” was Hal’s rejoinder.
“Oh, I’m still alive and kicking,” returned Chester. “But listen to the guns.”
Indeed, it seemed that the roar of heavy artillery from both the Allied and German lines exceeded in ferocity anything that either lad had heard in their fours years of fighting.
“You can bet there is something of importance going on,” was Hal’s comment. “But I agree with you, Chester, we’ve time enough later to learn what it’s all about. It’s time now to find a place where we can bunk for the rest of the night. Let’s be moving.”
Together the lads walked away in the darkness toward the section of the American encampment where a glimmer of light showed in the distant dugout.
“We’ll wake these fellows up and see if they’ll let us spend the night with them,” said Hal, as they approached the dugout.
“Suits me,” Chester agreed; “and if they have any objections to our company, I’m in favor of dispossessing them.”