[CHAPTER VII]
DAYS OF SORROW
"We're smashing through! We're smashing through!"
It was Jimmy who cried this. A turn of the battle had thrown him in contact with Roger, Bob, and Iggy after some hours of fighting, and once more they were pressing onward again.
There had been only time for a hurried word of inquiry—enough to learn that none of the four was injured at all seriously, though each one had had narrow escapes.
"Seen anything of Schnitz?" cried Jimmy, as he leaped forward to the attack again.
"He was with us a little while ago," shouted Bob. "I guess we'll find him up ahead!"
They did not know the fate that had befallen poor Franz.
"Are you all right, Iggy?" asked Roger.
"Sure I iss! Of what is left of me. But I a piece of my tin hat dit leaf behind," and he showed where a bullet or a fragment of shrapnel had shorn away part of his steel helmet.
"Close call that," commented Bob.