“Did they get him?” he cried. “If they did they’ll pay for it. We’ll wipe out the Hun trench in another minute!”
Then he saw Ned, standing, surrounded by the splintered, wooden parts of the ammunition truck.
“Oh, you’re here,” said the officer, mechanically, as Ned saluted. “Well, what in the name of General Pershing did you want to do that for?”
“I wanted some wood to make a fire for breakfast, Sir,” answered Ned simply. “Some one took our supply last night, and when I saw the truck blown to pieces and noticed that the driver was safe, I thought it a good chance to get some fairly dry fuel. So I took it. Better pick it up though, or it won’t be dry long,” he added to Jerry, and the latter, with Bob’s help, obeyed. Ned had done his share.
The officer stared at Ned as though the young soldier were a new sort of fighter, and then, with 126 a shake of his head, turned away. It was past belief or understanding.
As the three chums moved back to where they had set up an improvised stove, where they could build a fire with the truck pieces Ned had brought in, the ground shook with the thunder of the American guns that soon enforced silence in the German trenches. It was revenge for having fired on Ned.
Technically Ned had been guilty of a breach of the regulations, but though his venture into the open had resulted in a whole battery being sent into action, nothing further was said, officially, of his conduct. Perhaps his bravery was admired by the officer who saw it.
At any rate Ned, Bob and Jerry had a warm breakfast, which they shared with some of their chums, and then the day’s duty began. It was performed in the rain, that seemed never-ceasing. The bottom of the trench was a ditch of mud, in spite of the duck boards laid down.
“Too bad Professor Snodgrass isn’t here,” remarked Ned, as he pulled one foot up from the mud and looked at it with the remark that he wanted to make sure he still had the foot attached to his person.
“Too bad the professor isn’t here! Why?” asked Bob.