"I know what the Germans would do if they were in our place," remarked Tom. "They'd stand the prisoners in front of them, so that the other fellows would have to kill their own comrades before they could get at them."
"I know they would," agreed Frank. "They did that in Belgium even with women and little children. But we're human beings, and we don't do that sort of thing."
By this time the two bodies of men had joined, and Frank estimated that altogether they numbered more than forty.
"Ten to one," he remarked when he had finished counting, "and most of those new arrivals have guns."
"We're in for another rush," said Bart, "and this time they won't cave in as easily as they did before. The Germans are plucky enough when they fight in numbers."
The Army Boys looked carefully to their rifles and loosened their knives in their sheaths. Then by a common impulse they shook hands all around. Nothing was said, but each knew what was in the hearts of the others. They felt that they were in for a fight to the death, and with the heavy odds against them it looked as though none of them would come out alive.
But the expected rush did not come.
"Can't be that they've given it up, do you think?" asked Tom, after five minutes had passed.
"Nothing like that," replied Frank. "They're holding a big pow-wow about something."
As he spoke, a figure detached itself from the crowd and came towards them, waving a white handkerchief attached to a stick.