As Jimmy cried these words he leaped to his feet, an example followed by Roger. Then the two of them, crouching over and darting from side to side, ran into the open.
For a few moments they, thought they were going to have the way clear—that they would not be fired at. But this was not to be. Half way to the woods both boys saw off to their left several gray-uniformed figures leap up.
"There they are! Shoot!" cried Jimmy.
He fired from the hip, as did Roger. They were both pretty good shots, and they had practised this method, so they knew what they were doing. One of the Germans toppled over, though whether from the effect of Roger's fire or Jimmy's could not be told. But the others began firing in return, and the bullets sang about the heads of the Khaki Boys.
"Come on! Run faster!" yelled Jimmy, as he fired again.
"Say, there's a bunch of 'em!" cried Roger, as he saw more Huns springing up as if from holes in the earth where they had been hidden.
Jimmy did not answer. He was busy firing at the enemy, even as he was being shot at, and he had the satisfaction of seeing two more go down. One of these Roger got. Then Jimmy felt a sharp pain in one ear, and, clapping his hand to it, he saw his palm covered with blood.
"Hurt much?" cried Roger, as he dashed up beside his chum.
"No, just a graze, I guess. But keep away from me. The two of us together make a bigger target than one. Separate!"
He leaped to one side, and as he did so a bullet passed between him and Roger. They could hear it. Had they stood together one or both of them might have been hit.