But Ollie held the whip hand. Or rather, he held the bayonet hand; and with this weapon, rather more effective than a cavalryman’s spur, he reached backward and downward and gave the German a none too gentle jab just beneath where he himself sat perched.
“Dunder und blitzen!” shouted the big Boche, as he began to buck viciously to dislodge Ollie from his back.
Even the Germans who were looking on laughed. But even as they did so they realized that they had let down their guard and that everyone of them within range was covered with an American rifle and was a prisoner unless he preferred sudden death. They realized that the Americans could conduct warfare and enjoy a little humorous diversion at the same time.
It was a shock to several of them, but they seemed suddenly to realize that it was good, rather than bad, fortune, and they gave themselves up entirely to the enjoyment of their comrade’s misery.
“’At a boy,” yelled one Company C man to Ollie, “make ’im prance.”
And Ollie, enjoying himself immensely and not at all loth to give his companions all the fun they desired, suddenly loosened one foot, gave his mount a quick backward kick in the stomach, which elicited a tremendous grunt, and amid a shout of laughter which made men many yards distant turn suddenly in their fighting, the German started off at a full gallop toward his own lines.
For a few moments it looked bad for Ollie, unless he elected to make a quick drop, for none of the Americans dared shoot at the Boche for fear of hitting him. But either blinded by his rage, or bewildered by the sudden trick that fate, in the shape of a young American, had played upon him, the German suddenly turned, made two or three more grotesque bows in futile effort to throw Ollie from his back, and then came racing back toward the American lines.
“Give ’im the hook! Give ’im the hook!” came a chorus of advice from lusty members of Company C, and Ollie, interpreting the hook to mean the pointed instrument otherwise known as a bayonet, on the end of his rifle, proceeded to follow instructions. It was rather a vicious jab, which made the German suddenly draw himself in at the rear and expand in the stomach in a most ridiculous manner.
“Gott in Himmel, kamarad!” he shouted in a voice that could be heard above the thunder of cannon and the cracking of rifles.
He was purple in the face, his breath was coming in sharp snorts, and what strength he had left he was exhausting in vain efforts to swing his rifle back to knock Ollie from his perch. In his final vicious lunge the gun slipped from his hands and went skimming through the air, narrowly missing the heads of several of the German prisoners.