The sentry seemed to be enjoying the night. He sauntered along, his rifle slung carelessly over his shoulder. The barrel missed Stan’s head by inches as the man brushed past the bushes where he stood. Straightening, Stan leaned far forward, his arm shot out and encircled the man’s neck. At the same time his knee came up through the bushes in a smashing blow. The expert application of Stan’s arm and the blow in the spine knocked the German limp at once. He did not struggle and he could not cry out. Stan dragged him back into the bushes, hurriedly gagged and bound him.
Moving swiftly back to the pathway he came upon the boys. Allison was already back, kneeling with Tony and Arno.
“Fast work,” Stan whispered softly.
“He was a rotten soldier,” Allison answered. “He sat down and started removing one boot.”
“We’ll close in fast but without noise. I have a hunch we’ll get a break. If two of the men should start out to check the men we disposed of, Allison and I will take them out. You boys take the other two. Make sure they don’t get a chance to yell.”
“They will not yell,” Arno promised grimly.
The four raiders moved in on their hands and knees. They halted only a few yards from the four men. Here they waited. Finally one of the men got up and called. He listened, then challenged his sentries again. When there was no answer he caught up a rifle, snapped an order to one of the others, and headed off down the picket line.
Instantly Allison slithered away into the night. One of the others got to his feet grumbling loudly. He caught his rifle up and held it at ready as he moved off. Stan was after him at once.
Before Stan had overtaken the guard, having allowed him to get down the pathway a little distance, so as not to arouse the two left behind, he heard sounds of scuffling. Arno and Tony had not waited. They were in action.
Stan leaped in upon the guard just as the fellow whirled around. He knocked up the man’s gun and closed with him. The German shouted once before Stan could get a strangle hold upon him, then he went down, struggling wildly. He was a burly fellow with powerful arms and thick legs. Stan was not sure that he could hold the headlock he had slid down into a strangle grip.