"You!" the lieutenant hissed between his teeth at the sentinel as they came side by side. "What were you doing when this second American arrived? Asleep, eh?"
"I came up behind him. He never had a chance, for I did not make a sound," Jerry interposed in German, before the young Boche could make even an involuntary admission.
As they approached the base of the mountain where they had parted from Lieutenant Mackinson, Joe, and Frank early that day, the moon reached its zenith, and its beams, reflected upon the white ground, made the night almost as light as day.
Two hours later they were upon the identical spot from which they had wirelessed headquarters in the morning. It was midnight now as two of the Germans, working under Jerry's orders while Slim kept a weather eye on the others, set up the pack-set.
Jerry worked the key half a dozen times and then got an almost immediate response. The first query after he had identified himself was:
"Just got back to where we left you this morning," Jerry ticked off into the air. "Bringing in a German lieutenant and four of his men as prisoners. Should arrive by daylight, as we have horses."
"Great," was Joe's radio response. "Have letter from Brighton and fine news. Will make your report."
And the pack-set was put back in its compact case, and, paired off as before, the journey was resumed.
"Say," said Jerry, as they urged their horses down the side of the mountain leading to fairly level ground all the way into camp, "I'm hungry enough to eat dog meat, but I guess we can hold out now until we reach our lines."