The major turned to Tom.
“You have done well, Bradford,” he said, “and you deserve the thanks of the regiment. Had that man’s trick succeeded it might have led to a serious situation. I will see that your name is mentioned in the order of the day. You can return to your place.”
Tom saluted and retired, and a murmur of approbation went up from the men as he passed them.
Quick orders passed down the line, for now that the trick had failed an enemy attack could be expected at any moment.
“Good stuff, Tom!” exclaimed Frank approvingly as he clapped his comrade on the shoulder. “You were Johnny-on-the-spot that time for fair.”
“You were the real goods, old boy,” agreed Billy. “My heart was in my mouth for fear you might have made a mistake. And it’s mighty lucky that Frank had those reins, or the fellow might have got away after all.”
“Not a chance,” replied Frank lightly. “A dozen bullets would have got him anyway. The game was up with him the minute he had to take off his glove.”
“It was a regular Hun trick,” said Tom disdainfully.
“And he nearly got away with it,” commented Billy. “He nearly had the major going. Why, he spoke English just as well as I do.”
“That isn’t saying much,” chaffed Frank, and dodged the pass that Billy made at him.