A dozen figures sprang from the farthest building to the one next to the lad. Behind them came three or four American marines. Hal realized at once that Sergeant Bowers had taken the same precautions he had to prevent the escape of the enemy and had sent his men, or some of them, into the far house.
The foremost German caught sight of Hal’s head and with a cry stopped short on the roof of the middle building.
“Down this way!” he cried, and lifted the trap-door of the building on which he stood.
He leaped down. Others piled after him.
“Going to be quite a scrap there,” muttered Hal. “Guess I’d better take a hand.”
With no thought of the risk he was running, he sprang to the roof and dashed toward the enemy. From the last of the three houses, the marines also advanced on the run.
At the foot of the ladder where he had stationed himself, Sergeant Bowers was not caught unprepared when the trap-door was flung suddenly open and the first German leaped down.
“Thought you’d be back,” he muttered.
His fist shot out as the German reached the floor and the man dropped in his tracks.
“One!” said the sergeant with a half smile. “Next!”