“Well, whatever it is,” declared Chester, somewhat nettled, “I don’t believe they like it very well.”
“I don’t like it either, but what am I going to do about it?” Hal wanted to know.
“You might try a little sprint,” Chester suggested.
“Not much. I feel reasonably secure here and I think I’ll stick awhile. The thing that mystifies me, though, is why the Germans haven’t sent relief to our friends in the next hole.”
“On the same reasoning,” said Chester, “why hasn’t Captain O’Neil made an effort to reach us?”
Hal shrugged his shoulders.
“Guess he is playing for the safety of the greatest number,” was his reply. “If he tried to rescue us the Germans also would probably advance and that would mean a battle. My idea is that Captain O’Neil has been ordered to avoid that right now!”
“All the same,” said Chester, “they are bound to know we’re here, and it seems to me they could do something for us.”
“Don’t croak,” said Hal. “We’re not running this war, you know, and I guess it’s a good thing. Anyhow, we’ve just as much chance to get out alive as those fellows over there,” and he waved an arm in the direction of the shell hole occupied by the Germans.
This act of indiscretion almost proved costly. When Hal’s arm showed above the top of the shell hole a German rifle cracked in the distance. Hal heard the whine of the bullet as it passed within a fraction of an inch of his hand.