Just then Dick and Frank squirmed up beside them.
"Some more straight ahead of us," breathed the Indian. "Three or four."
Hammer used his glass and saw that Sacobie's eyes had not fooled him. He touched each of his companions to assure himself of their attention, then twisted sharp to the left, back toward their own line, and crawled away. They followed. After he had covered about ten yards, Dave turned end for end in his muddy trail, and the others came up to him and turned beside him. They saw that the wiring party and the patrol had joined.
"Spread a bit," whispered Dave. "I'll chuck one at 'em, and when it busts you fellows let fly and then beat it back for the hole in our wire. Take cover if the emmagees get busy. I'll be right behind you."
They moved a few paces to the right and left. Peter's lips felt dry, and he wanted to sneeze. He took a plump, cold, heavy little grenade in his muddy right hand. A few breathless, slow seconds passed and then smash! went Dave's bomb over against the Hun wire. Then Peter stood up and threw—and three bombs exploded like one.
Turning, Peter slithered along on all fours after Dick and Sacobie. The startled Huns lighted up their front as if for a national fête; but Peter chanced it and kept on going. A shrapnel shell exploded overhead with a terrific sound, and the fat bullets spattered in the mud all round him. He came to another and larger crater and was about to skirt it when a familiar voice exclaimed:
"Come in here, you idiot!"
There was Dick and Frank Sacobie standing hip-deep in the mud and water at the bottom of the hole. Peter joined them with a few bushels of mud. A whiz-bang whizzed and banged red near-by, and the three ducked and knocked their heads together. The water was bitterly cold.
"Did you think you were on your way to the barns to milk?" asked Dick. "Don't you know the machine guns are combing the ground?"
"I'll remember," said Peter. "New work to me, and I guess I was a bit flustered. I wonder where Dave Hammer has got himself to."