"I think Jepson has gone out," some one answered. Jimmy hesitated. He was between two duties—that toward one of his immediate force, and the desire to rescue his chums. But he knew his duty as an officer required him to look after his command first. He ran back to where two of the privates were bending over Jepson. A look and a touch convinced Jimmy that the man was past all aid.
"We'll carry him back later," he said. Then, stifling his own feelings he cried: "Come on!"
Grimly his men followed.
On in the darkness they stumbled, now scarcely seeing where they were going, and again blinded by fierce lights. Their ears were deafened by the rattle and bang and roar of big and little guns.
"Why don't you call out?" suggested one of the remaining men in
Jimmy's small command. "Maybe Bob and Roger could hear you and answer.
Then you'd know where they are."
"Good idea! I will!" shouted Jimmy. He had to yell just then, for a burst of artillery fire from the German lines, answering the guns of the Americans, drowned all ordinary talk.
Then, when it was comparatively quiet again, Jimmy cried:
"Bob! Roger! Where are you? We're coming to the rescue!"
"Americans over this way!" was shouted in answer. "Over to your right!"
Whether or not this was either Bob or Roger, Jimmy could not tell. But the words were English, though immediately afterward could be heard guttural German voices.