CHAPTER XVIII
THE SCHOOL JANITOR
Just how it happened that the Salvation Army worker had ventured into that place of death none knew, and none stopped to inquire. Probably the man, in his eagerness to serve, did not realize where he was nor how he got there. Naturally he would have been denied permission to go forward during an engagement—that was no time nor place for a noncombatant. But he probably had not asked. He had made his way through a rain of lead and steel to a zone of comparative safety. And there he stood, as if bewildered, with his baskets of cheer on his arms.
And now a sudden change in the battle made the zone of comparative safety one of danger. For the range of the German guns became shorter. The muzzles were being depressed to seek out those intrepid Americans who had rushed over the first Hun trenches and were waiting to rush onward again. This must not be, thought the Huns, and so they sought them out to kill them. 146
So it was that as Bob spied the “fried holes” the dispenser of them gave a start as a bullet or a piece of shell flew close to his head. He was in grave danger now, and realized it. But he did not falter. He gave one backward glance, not with an idea of retreating, that is sure, but to see if there were any near him in that direction whom he might serve. Then he saw the prone lines ahead of him.
“Me for some of those!” yelled Bob, as he rose from his improvised trench.
“Lie still, you chump!” shouted Ned. “Do you want to be killed?”
“No more than you did when you got the wood from the busted truck,” was the answer. “But I’ve got to have some of those doughnuts!”
And Bob, never heeding the fact that he would be a shining target for the guns of the Germans, started to run toward the Salvation Army man.