"Keep your heads down! You may get them knocked off soon enough when the rush comes," went on the lieutenant, for in their eagerness to answer and be selected for the dangerous mission, some had partly raised themselves from their prone positions.
"There's no question but that's a German machine-gun in that old mill; is there?" asked the lieutenant.
"Here's one of the bullets, sir," replied Roger, tossing over one that had penetrated the earth near where he was lying, and come out after striking a stone. "That's a bit of Hun lead all right."
He tossed it over to the officer, who was stretched out in the young, green grain near by.
"Yes, that's German all right," was the answer. "It's larger than ours. I thought perhaps some of our men might have gone in there to pepper the Huns. Well, we've got to get it—that's all."
"And soon, too," murmured Jimmy. "Whew! This is fierce!"
A hail of lead from the weapon in the old red mill drew this exclamation from him. Fortunately the men were low enough to escape the worst of the firing, but some were wounded and one killed.
"There's two guns in that mill, sir!" called Franz, who was lying near
Bob. "They're both firing together."
"You're right," was the lieutenant's comment. "Well, so much the more work for us to do. How many of us are here?"
It developed, by an improvised roll call, that there were fifteen, including our five Brothers. With the lieutenant who was in immediate command, there were sixteen.