But there were many poor lads who did have to go to the rear, for they were torn and mangled. And there were some who had made their last fight. But it was a good fight. Oh, it was a good and noble fight! Be sure of that!
Assisting Franz, Roger and Bob got back to the barn, and there they took off their comrade's shoe. As he had said, his ankle was only bruised. He was able to limp along.
The Hun fighters had received more than they wanted. They had not only withdrawn to a good distance, but they did not even have nerve enough to launch a counter-attack. The American advance had been so well prepared that it won the battle.
"Well, now we have time to breathe and eat," commented Jimmy, who had been relieved in command.
"Say, a lot of things have happened since the zero hour this morning," remarked Roger.
"You said it!" declared Bob fervently. "If I was only on the paper now I could write a front page story, instead of a miserable little 'stick' about a runaway horse. Oh, but this was some fight!"
It was toward evening, and the tired doughboys were wondering what the night would hold for them, when Jimmy remarked:
"I'm going to see if I can find Sergeant Maxwell."
"What's the matter with him?" asked Roger.
"Nothing, I hope. But I gave him those five thousand francs to keep for me—you know, the reward money—our money," explained Jimmy, for it was that, as you shall see. "I want to get it back, now that the battle is over. We won't go into action very soon again, I'm thinking. I just gave him the notes to keep for me until this scrap was over. Now I think I'll get 'em back again, and divide 'em up."