There was blood on Jerry’s head, and blood had seeped out from his right leg, near the knee. Poor Jerry lay very still, and about him were heaped others, who were unmistakably dead.
The lieutenant bent over the corporal and made a hasty examination. There was relief on his face—relief which was reflected on the countenances of Ned and Bob as he said:
“He’s still alive, but badly hurt, I’m afraid. Take him back as gently as you can.”
Ned and Bob helped lift him on to the stretcher. Jerry did not move, and so faint was his breathing that there were times when it seemed to stop altogether.
Desperately as Ned and Bob wanted to go back to the dressing station to learn how it fared with their chum, they must stay on duty in the advanced position they had helped to win. It must be consolidated as much as possible before night, or the Germans might launch a counter offensive.
And so, when the Hun machine gun had been turned about, ready to rake any advancing lines of its recent owners, other measures were taken 156 to insure the holding of the position won at such cost.
“I’d like to have a talk with that Nick,” said Bob, as he and Ned paused for a moment in their work of digging trenches.
“Yes, isn’t it strange to meet him here like this? If he fired any of the shots that did up Jerry Hopkins, why––”
Ned did not finish, but Bob knew what his chum meant.
Feverishly the Americans worked, and to good purpose, for when darkness began to fall they were in strong front trenches with supporting lines back of them, and the artillery was partly in place. If the Germans wanted to take that particular hill again they would have to work for every inch of it.