“Perhaps we have a hero with us who should have had a decoration. I believe in giving honor where honor is due, and Jo shall have everything that’s coming to him,” said Mr. Dalken.
“Well, the Croix de Guerre which I wear belongs to Jo, according to all rules of the game, but it fell to my lot to get it, and to Jo’s lot to get the shell in his leg,” said Bill. This caused a demand for the story, and Bill began.
“Bob and I volunteered at midnight to hunt on No Man’s Land for the officer who had important orders in the breast pocket of his uniform. He went out that afternoon with his men but was reported missing upon our return. No one saw him fall, nor had he been seen captured by the enemy with whom we had a mix-up. This was soon after Jo returned from home to link his future with that of the Canadian Troops.
“We managed to crawl unseen all over the same ground where we had the skirmish late that afternoon, but not a sign of the lieutenant could we see. Finally Bob lifted his head and nodded at what had seemed to me to be a heap of debris.
“‘It’s a ruin,’ whispered Bob. ‘I don’t remember seeing it there this evening.’
“‘You didn’t, Bob. It was a little barn when last we came out here,’ replied I.
“‘Then a shell must have smashed it since. Could the Left, have been near it, do you think?’ Bob’s tone suggested possibilities, so I silently agreed to follow him.
“We crept along, slowly and carefully, fearful of a surprise at any moment, for the enemy were out that night as well as others, and they might be seeking in this ruin, exactly as we purposed to seek for missing pals.
“We reached the heap of stones and plaster without interruption and then we felt we could breathe better. The barn fell so that some of the timbers caught in the ends of others and stuck up after the manner of loose jack straws. Under this small hollow pyramid was enough shelter for both of us, and we crept there hoping to hide and plan our return.
“To my horror I came in contact with a cold face, and after discreetly feeling over the body I found it to be a Hun. We heaved a sigh of relief to find it was not our Lefty. But close upon that relief came a shock: A groan from under the timbers.