"Edge closer to the wire--close as you can wiggle, and lie flat. Pass
on the word."

The Missourian obeyed. Before writhing his long body forward against
the bristly mass of wire he passed the instructions on to the man at
his own left.

But his nerves were at breaking-point.

It had been bad enough to crawl through the blind fog, with the ghostly
steps of his comrades pattering softly at either side of him. But it
was a thousand times harder to lie helpless here, in the choking fog
and on the soaked ground, while countless enemies were bearing down,
unseen, upon him, on one side, and an impenetrable wire cut off his
retreat on the other.

The Missourian had let his imagination begin to work; always a mistake
in a private soldier. He was visualizing the moment when this tramping
German force should become aware of the presence of their puny foes and
should slaughter them against the merciless wires. It would not be a
fair stand-up fight, this murder-rush of hundreds of men against twelve
who were penned in and could not maneuver nor escape. And the thought
of it was doing queer things to the rookie's overwrought nerves.

Having passed the word to creep closer to the wires, he began to
execute the order in person, with no delay at all. But he was a
fraction of a second too late. The Germans were moving in
hike-formation with "points" thrown out in advance to either side--a
"point" being a private soldier who, for scouting and other purposes,
marches at some distance from the main body.

The point, ahead of the platoon, had swerved too far to the left, in
the blackness--an error that would infallibly have brought him up
against the wires, with considerable force, in another two steps. But
the Missourian was between him and the wires. And the point's
heavy-shod foot came down, heel first, on the back of the rookie's
out-groping hand. Such a crushing impact, on the hand-back, is one of
the most agonizing minor injuries a man can sustain. And this fact the
Missourian discovered with great suddenness.

His too-taut nerves forced from his throat a yell that split the
deathly stillness with an ear-piercing vehemence. He sprang to his
feet, forgetful of orders intent only on thrusting his bayonet through
the Hun who had caused such acute torture to his hand. Half way up, the
rookie's feet went out from under him in the slimy mud. He caromed
against the point, then fell headlong.

The German, doubtless thinking he ha