"Same here," agreed Bob. "Say, what do you s'pose happened to Maxwell, anyhow!"
"Can't imagine, unless he's been killed or captured. If he was within our lines some one would have heard of it. Or perhaps they wouldn't either, in all this excitement. It may take two or three days to locate him, if he's alive."
"And if he isn't—or is a prisoner?" suggested Bob.
"Then good-bye to our thousand dollars," sighed Jimmy.
"I'm thinking of poor Iggy, too," said Bob, after a pause. "Do you think he has any chance!"
"Well, he didn't appear to be badly wounded. But if his spine is broken he'll never fight again, and may not live very long. That's a fierce state of affairs. How he escaped being killed outright is a wonder to me. You ought to have seen him after Roger and I dug him out," and in a whisper, for loud talking was forbidden, he related the scene in the shell hole.
He had scarcely finished his narration when Bob peered out from their improvised shelter and seemed to be looking at something intently—that is, as intently as he could in the rainy darkness.
"What is it?" asked Jimmy cautiously.
"I don't know," was the answer. "But someone, or something, is crawling this way. Look right straight ahead. See it moving?"