"Yes," said Frank. "I'm glad we didn't stop at the first one. The mine caught the Boches napping there and stood them on their heads. But in the second it was an out and out stand up fight, man to man, and we licked them."
"And licked them good," asserted Billy. "I guess they won't do any more sneering at the Yankees after this day's work."
They passed the place where Bart had so nearly met his death through the treacherous attack of his captive.
"Here's where you nearly went West," remarked Tom.
"Don't talk of it," objected Bart with a grimace. "It makes the chills creep over me to think of it. I could stand being knifed in a square fight, but I'd hate to get it the way that fellow meant that I should."
"One of the Frenchmen was telling me of something like that that happened at Verdun," said Frank. 'Two Frenchmen were carrying a wounded German officer on a stretcher to the hospital. The officer got out his revolver and shot the first stretcher bearer dead."
"That's gratitude for you," remarked Bart. "Something like another
German in a hospital, who pretended he wanted to shake hands with the
Red Cross nurse who was tending him, and then with a sudden snap broke
her wrist."
"You hear it said sometimes," said Billy, "that 'the only good Indian is a dead Indian.' That's always sounded a little tough on poor Lo. But if the Huns keep on the way they are going, it won't be long before all the world will be saying that the only good German is a dead one."
"I'm beginning to say it already," replied Tom.
They passed stretcher bearers carrying away the wounded, and burial parties engaged in a business still more sad. There was plenty for them to do, for death and wounds had come to many that day, which had been the most strenuous for the United States troops since they had come to the fighting line.