GOOD STEWS
For a moment Jimmy could see nothing. Possibly this was because he strained his eyes too much, but of course he was looking out into a darkness so black that it seemed to swallow up everything. And there was rain, too, a misty, drizzling rain, which alone would have hampered vision. Then Jimmy closed his strained orbs, and when he opened them again his vision was nearer normal.
"Do you see it yet?" whispered Bob. "Squint along my finger."
Jimmy did so.
"You have pretty good eyes to see anything in this blackness," he was saying when he suddenly became aware of something moving out there among the holes caused by the American shells.
It was more, he said afterward, as though part of the darkness itself moved rather than that he actually saw something. But it was enough to direct his attention to what Bob pointed out.
"It is something," was Jimmy's cautious declaration. "And coming this way!"
There was a movement on the part of Bob, and his chum knew he was getting his rifle in readiness. Jimmy followed this example. They were on the alert.
"Don't fire until you challenge," cautioned Jimmy. "It might be one of our fellows, you know."
"One of our fellows—out there? How could it be!"