was not to be found. Greg continued the search
desperately.

Had the Germans sent up flares just then, and turned on their
machine guns, Greg would have made an inevitable mark.

Captain Ribaut, more practical, sent a French corporal through
the nearby sections for word of Captain Prescott.

"Captain Holmes, return to the trench," Major Wells ordered, in
a hoarse whisper.

So Greg obeyed, in time almost to bump into Captain Ribaut.

"Four men from this platoon are missing, and presumably were captured
by the enemy," said that officer. "I much fear that Captain Prescott
was also taken away by the enemy."

"What? Captured by the Huns?" Greg demanded, divided between
amazement and consternation. "Dick captured? Let me lead a force
over to the enemy line to bring him back!"

"Only the division commander could sanction that," replied Captain
Ribaut, with grave sympathy. "And it is never done, Captain."

"Oh, I wish I had B company at my back, with A company thrown
in for good measure!" quivered Greg. "But say, can't there be
a mistake? Didn't Prescott go back wounded?"

"No; I have sent to the dressing station, and he was not seen
there," Captain Ribaut replied.

At first Greg couldn't believe that his chum had been captured.
When the probability of it did dawn on him nothing but his position
as an officer kept him from sitting down on the fire step and
sobbing.

"I'd sooner know he was killed than that he had fallen into Hun
hands," Holmes sputtered. "But, if they have got him, then I'll
make a business of mistreating Germans after this!"

Capture was precisely what had happened to Dick Prescott. It
was not for long that he had remained dazed. Two German soldiers
fairly dragged him across No Man's Land, his heels bumping over
the rough ground.

Dick vaguely knew when the same men lifted him slightly and dropped
him, feet first, into the German trench. He fell forward to his
knees, and a German non-com raised him to his feet.

"What place is this?" Dick demanded. But he knew as soon as he
heard laughing German voices around him.

"Well, if I'm captured, I gave a good account of myself first,"
Prescott muttered as he shook himself together, "I first captured
two German spies and a German colonel and turned them over to
the French. But poor old Greg! I'd almost sooner be in my present
boots than in his, for he'll be frantic when he finds this out."

The same two German soldiers who had drag