It was hard going. He held to his rifle, believing that it might be the means of either saving his life or of avenging it at the last moment. Once the barrel was struck by a bullet that glanced harmlessly, but with a wild shriek, as a flattened bullet will.
Then the stock was struck and splintered, and even amidst the awful danger, the near certainty of death in a veritable rain of lead, the boy felt one swift regret for an injury to his beloved weapon. Such are the vagaries of the human mind.
Roy dragged himself forward toward a rise of ground. It was terribly painful going, but he must get out of this first; see to his wound.
"If I've got to pass up, or down," he said aloud to himself, "I want to do it according to Hoyle and not as Hamburger steak or mincemeat. Let us proceed where we can estimate on repairs, if the works are worth it."
He got on, suffering from time to time bitter stabs of pain just below his hip when his limb twisted. Not able to lift the lower portion of his body from the ground by his uninjured leg because of the agony when the other dangled he was compelled to drag his entire weight on his elbows, gun still in hand, but the lad's pluck and spirit never left him.
"A turtle's got nothin' on me for getting down to it. Wish I was a snake. Then I could bite a Hun. Mebbe this little thing—" thinking of his pistol—"might do it yet; drat 'em! Here's this little old heap of earth, and—oh, glory be! It's a shell pit! Like home and mother! In we go! Whurrah! That'n nearly got me!"
It had almost. A conical mass of iron ripped clear across his back, cutting the cloth like a knife, but doing no other damage. The boy spread himself out, feeling a little easier, and lay still for a moment. The cold rain fell on his face and he pulled his hat over his eyes.
"But ye don't sting quite like those Boche hailstones," he said. "Well, I've luxuriated enough now. Go to it, m'lad, and look to your hurt. If not, the rain'll help to make this slope all unnatural blue with me arterial fluid; me ancestors way back to Brian Boru would have it that it's as blue as indigo. Better look to see the damage; but how can I?"
How could he, indeed? Was there nothing for him but to lie there and let his blood ebb away, unless his comrades missed him in the pit and the barrage fire ceased? And then a fear seized him. Would they tell Herb and would that loyal friend risk his life to reach him?