In a minute his brother took his place at my side, while he himself ran up to the trenches. He was back in about ten minutes. He had the permission. The lieutenant also was going and asked if I would come along, as I knew something of first aid and could speak a little French.
When we got to the lieutenant three more men, splendid fellows, on whom one could rely, had volunteered. In a twinkling we had gathered tent cloth, side arms and saws and were running singly across the meadow. Of course, the sentries were notified that we were out in front.
We entered the wood. While two men worked with knives and saws to cut a way through, the others held themselves ready for anything that might develop. We stumbled over bodies, weapons and knapsacks. At last I found a little path which the French had made a few days previously.
I rested a while and was just about to return to my comrades when a hand gripped my foot. Great God, I was frightened! For a second I was paralyzed; then, tearing out my sword—
"Pitie! pitie!"
Some one under my feet was whining for mercy. My teeth chattered. I could hardly move or answer.
"Oh, m'sieur camarade; pitie! pitie!"
Suddenly the lieutenant appeared and I found my control again. Getting down on my knees, I carefully groped for the body.
"Look out now," whispered the lieutenant. "It may be a trap."
"Give me your hand," I ordered the Frenchman. A cold, moist, trembling hand was put into mine.