Still running, he shrilled out the order to halt on his whistle again and again, without result, and then as a hand gripped his throat, he felt the cold barrel of a revolver clapped to his throbbing forehead, and an angry voice with a colonial twang in it cried, "Who are you, blowing calls on our front? Is this another German wheeze?"
"I am an officer of the Reedshires, and we've had it badly!" shouted Dennis, as he clutched his opponent in his turn. "We're pretty well wiped out, but it's nothing to what you'll get if you don't stop your men. That building you're making for is mined. The moment you reach it they'll blow the whole show sky high."
"Nonsense, you're pulling my leg," said the voice incredulously. "Don't you know we're making history?"
"History be blowed! You're making fools of yourselves!" cried the lad. "Loose my throat, or I'll let you have it!"
"Hallo, that sounds like Dennis Dashwood!" said another voice out of the surge that raced by them, and a broad-shouldered corporal pulled up short.
"What, Dunn—do you know this man?" said the Australian Captain, releasing his grip.
"Yes, sir, he's my cousin," said Dan Dunn. "What's wrong, Dennis?"
Dennis hurriedly repeated his warning, and as three rockets sailing up from the German lines showed Bob and his bearers shouldering their way perilously forward within an ace of being bayoneted at every step, Captain Dashwood lifted up his voice, and the two privates joined in.
The testimony was overwhelming, and although the fire-eating Anzacker was only half convinced, he reluctantly blew a call, and told Corporal Dunn to find the C.O.
"If you've made a fool of us you'll have to go through the hoop," said the Australian savagely, as the call was taken up along the charging line, which flattened out and said things loudly.