With cries of terror, the Germans gave ground.
But even as they turned to flee, the Americans were upon them with swords and bayonets. Foremost in the advancing columns, their swords throwing circles of steel about their heads and revolvers clasped in their left hands, belching fire, three officers dashed forward. Two were marines. The other wore the garb of the regular army. The first two were Lieutenants Smith and Jenkins; the third, Chester Crawford.
“Get ’em, Smith!” shouted Jenkins. “You may not get another chance.”
Smith apparently needed no urging. He led his men on with wild cries. In the face of these charging demons the Germans, who at first had attempted to retire with some semblance of order, broke and fled in utter rout. With loud cheers, the boys from Yankeeland followed close on their heels.
Suddenly Lieutenant Smith, who was slightly ahead of Jenkins and Chester, halted. He had come upon the prostrate forms of Hal and Bowers.
“Hello!” he ejaculated, paying no heed to the confusion of battle. “A marine, and he is down. Fritz will have to pay for that.”
He sprang forward again.
A moment later Chester came upon his fallen chum. There was fear in his heart as he bent over Hal, but this quickly fled as Hal drew a long breath.
Chester lifted Hal to his feet.
“Still alive, eh?” he said.