Alan was far from being out of the wood, there was danger on every side, and it was light. Fortune favored him, for the enemy had suffered terrible losses and were occupied in beating a hasty retreat, what was left of them. The ground was covered with dead, dying, and wounded. As he rode rapidly to the right he got clear of them; several shots were fired and missed him.
A feeling of exultation possessed him as he neared his lines a couple of miles away. Once there he was safe, his perilous mission accomplished.
His horse shied. Looking ahead he saw half a dozen forms hidden behind some stunted bushes. The enemy again. Rifles were pointed at him. It meant death if he went on.
He halted and faced his enemies, but showed no signs of giving in. The men crept forward, still covering him with their rifles. He was angry at the thought of being taken prisoner again. If recognized he would be shot off-hand. This was not at all likely although he was not aware of it.
Providence intervened in the shape of a shell which hurtled into the midst of the creeping men. There was a terrific explosion. Alan reeled in the saddle, recovered by a great effort, and managed to control his frightened horse. He was struck on the forehead but fortunately the peak of his cap saved him. Still the effect was stunning, stupefying. A whistling in the air and another shell burst, throwing up a cloud of mud and dirt round him, thus lessening the danger of being badly hit.
His enemies were cut up, shattered; but he had to ride for his life to avoid the shells. He was in danger from his friends.
The horse was equal to the emergency and sped across the open space at a great pace.
The solitary horseman seemed to puzzle the gunners, for they ceased firing. Probably he had been recognized as an officer escaping from the enemy.
He waved his cap and, taking all risks, galloped toward the Allies' lines. He knew where he was now. These trenches were the nearest to headquarters and in a few minutes he would be in safety.
Something trickled down his face. He brushed it aside with his hand—blood—his wound was more serious than he thought.