The issue was no longer in doubt. The scale had turned against the Germans and they were retreating. But they went back stubbornly, giving ground only inch by inch, and in certain scattered groups the fighting was as furious as ever.
As far as might be, they kept together, but as the swirl of the battle tore them apart, Tom and Billy were lost sight of by Bart and Frank, who were laying about them right and left among the enemy.
A sharp exclamation from Bart caused Frank to turn his eyes toward him for a second.
"Hurt, Bart?" he queried anxiously.
"Bullet ridged my shoulder," responded Bart. "Doesn't amount to anything, though. Look out, Frank!" he yelled, his voice rising almost to a scream. Frank turned to see two burly Germans bearing down upon him with fixed bayonets.
Bart sought to engage one of them, but was caught up in a mass of combatants and Frank was left to meet the onset alone.
Quick as a cat, he sidestepped one of them, and putting out his foot tripped him as he plunged past. He went down with a crash, and his rifle flew from his hands.
The remaining German made a savage lunge, but Frank deftly caught the blade upon his own, and the next instant they were engaged in a deadly bayonet duel.
It was fierce but also brief. A thrust, a parry, and Frank drove his weapon through the shoulder of his opponent. The latter reeled and fell. Frank strove to pull out his weapon, but it stuck fast, and just then a pair of sinewy hands fastened on his throat and he looked into the reddened eyes of the antagonist whom he had tripped.
With a quick wrench Frank tore himself away, and the next instant he had grappled with his opponent and they swayed back and forth, each putting forth every ounce of his strength in the effort to master the other.