“Nothing much,” answered Tom. “I heard a patrol going along the road about an hour ago, and later on I heard the stroke of oars. But it was too dark for me to see anything.”
He had scarcely spoken when a volley of shots rang out. There were hoarse shouts and the sound of running feet. Then along came Billy, panting and breathless.
“The Huns!” he gasped, as he dropped into the boat. “They nearly got me and they’re close behind. We’ll have to make a quick get-away or they’ll nab us.”
“Quick!” ordered the corporal. “Sheldon, you take one oar and Bradford the other. Pull for the other side as fast as you can. Don’t splash any more than you can help, or we’ll be a mark for the Huns’ bullets. Quick now!”
The boys needed no urging, for the sounds told them that their foe had almost reached the bank of the canal. They bent to the oars and the boat shot away from the shore. But they had scarcely taken three strokes before a star shell rose from the enemy side of the canal and shed a greenish ghastly radiance over the scene. By its light, they saw a dozen or more Germans on the bank they had just left, and a volley of bullets that came singing over their heads and about the boat told them that they offered a good target.
But it was not this group of enemies that gave them the greatest concern. A more serious peril threatened them. For in that green flare of the star shell they saw two boats between them and the shore they sought. And the guttural shouts that had come from these boats at their discovery told the Americans that the occupants were Germans.
They grasped the situation at once. These were the boats whose oar strokes had been heard by Tom. There were half a dozen men in each boat and their errand on the American side had been the same as that of the Army Boys among the Germans.
It was a time for quick thinking, and the corporal was equal to the emergency. His party was outnumbered three to one by the men in the enemy boats, to say nothing of their comrades on the farther shore. The first star shell had faded, but others followed in quick succession, so that there was no chance to slip between the enemy boats in the darkness.
“Turn her head upstream,” ordered Wilson, and the boat swung round.
“Now, pull for your lives,” the corporal commanded. “Our only chance is to get far enough ahead of those fellows to cut into the shore. When you fellows are tired, Waldon and I will take the oars. Pull, now, pull!”