"Yes, sir!" cried Jimmy, his heart now on fire with a desperate resolve. He wished Franz and Iggy could be of the rescue party, but they were already out of the trench, under the leadership of one of the lieutenants, making a fierce counter-attack.
Quickly Jimmy picked out six privates, and rapidly explained what he wanted. They ran forward in the darkness. Shells were exploding overhead, there were flashes of rifle fire on every side, and a more continuous stream of wicked spurts from machine guns. Rockets were being sent up from the German lines, together with star-shells, and these made the scene of the fight brilliantly light with, now and then, recurrent periods of intense blackness.
"Barlow and Dalton captured?" cried one of the privates whom Jimmy had selected. "That's tough!"
"We'll bring 'em back, or go over with 'em!" added another.
"Come on!" cried Jimmy, and he led the way.
He had only a vague notion of where to look for Bob and Roger. But he and his companions in arms saw immediately ahead of them a dark mass of fighting men. And they judged this to be the attacking party of Germans, taking away prisoners, and fighting off the attacks of those Americans who had hurried to the rescue.
"Come on! Let's get in on that!" cried Jimmy. "Forward!"
"Forward she is!" came the grim answer from one of the lads he was leading.
There came a fierce burst of machine-gun fire from the German line to the left of that fighting, struggling bunch of forms. It was followed by yells of rage, mingled with pain, and then deep groans.
"Anyone here hit?" asked Jimmy.