“Headquarters. With the information force now, posing as messenger, liaison, anything else but——. Detective work, you know. I’m glad to see you, Herb. How’s the fight going?”
“Right ahead; all the time ahead!” declared Lieutenant Whitcomb. “The Heinies are putting up a good scrap, though. This is only the first round. Say, I wish we could chin awhile, but——”
“I know. And now you——?”
“Going to find some stretcher bearers to get a man of mine out.”
“I’ll do it; where’s the man. But first I must tell you to keep an eye open for that liaison sergeant; I believe he’s bad medicine. He may have been laying for you.”
“I know he was lying to me; said there were orders to withdraw. I ought to have held him. Come with me now; then I must get back to my men.”
Herbert quickly led Don to where Merritt lay; then clasping Don’s hand and saying that they’d meet again, shortly perhaps, went on a run in the direction of the fighting.
Don knelt and at once saw that the youthful soldier’s wound had soon proved fatal and so, folding the poor fellow’s arms and placing his handkerchief over his face, the boy arose to again make his way through the woods.
Suddenly he came to where a number of officers advanced together and the boy asked for Captain Lowden. The company commander acknowledged his own identity and receiving the note from Colonel Walton seemed eager to talk to Don, explaining that the fight was going very well, that it was a matter of breaking up machine-gun nests and capturing or routing the enemy who manned them; the officers could have little part in this, except to keep their men together and busy.