"You beat it for the M. O., my lad," said the colonel.
Five more prisoners came in under a guard of two; and then six more of the raiders arrived, two of whom were carrying Lieut. Smith. The lieutenant's head was bandaged roughly, and the dressing was already soaked with blood.
"We did them in, sir," he said thickly to the colonel. "Caught them in bunches—and bombed three dugouts."
He was carried away, still muttering of the fight. By that time the majority of the other parties were in. Several of the men were wounded—and they had brought their dead with them, three in number. The Germans had turned their trench mortars on their own front line from their support trenches.
"They're not all in yet," said Capt. Keen. "Hammer isn't in."
Just then Dick Starkley slid into the trench.
"That you, Dick? Did you see Mr. Hammer? Or Frank Sacobie? Or Bruce McDonald?"
"I have McDonald—but some one's got to help me lift him over," said Dick breathlessly. "Heavy as a horse—and hit pretty bad!"
Two men immediately slipped over the top and hoisted big McDonald into the trench. Hiram Sill put a hand on Dick's shoulder.
"Dave Hammer and Sacobie," he whispered, "are still out. Hadn't we better—"