"What's that?" Greg demanded astonished. "Say, you're right, aren't you? And to think of all the good fighting I missed through holding on to that 'prisoner'! Dick will tease the life out of me! By the way, where is he?"
"I thought he went this way," Ribaut answered. "We must find him. I hope he wasn't hurt."
Thoroughly alarmed Greg wheeled and darted along the trench, looking for his chum. Then he raced back, going off in the opposite direction.
"Prescott isn't here!" he gasped, and sprang up at the parapet.
"Here! Don't do that," Major Wells called to him, in a low voice.
But there was no stopping Holmes. Bending low he raced along in front of the trench, looking for the body, dead or alive, of his chum.
Dick, however, was not to be found. Greg continued the search desperately.
Had the Germans sent up flares just then, and turned on their machine guns, Greg would have made an inevitable mark.
Captain Ribaut, more practical, sent a French corporal through the nearby sections for word of Captain Prescott.
"Captain Holmes, return to the trench," Major Wells ordered, in a hoarse whisper.