ok, Rod, as I live, one lone Frenchman did
succeed in crossing. You can see him crawling along in the scrub there,
his red breeches betraying his every movement. Just a single one of all
that brave lot, and he'll be either killed right away or made a
prisoner, like as not!"

Somehow both boys found themselves compelled to watch the progress of
the crawling Frenchman. He seemed only a grain of sand on the seashore
compared with the mighty forces employed on both sides, and yet at that
particular moment he occupied the centre of the stage in their minds.
Without knowing why this should be so they continued to follow his
movements with their eyes.

Then suddenly Josh broke out again. He could make himself heard because
there was little if any desultory firing now; the Germans were satisfied
with the execution already accomplished, while the mortified French held
their fire until further plans could be settled upon.

"Rod, what do you reckon that madman means to try and do?" he asked
excitedly; "see how he keeps on creeping straight along toward where
that battery is hidden behind some sort of barricade. Honest to
goodness, now, I believe he means to tackle the entire business all by
himself; just like a Frenchman for desperate bravery. He must be crazy
to think he can do anything unaided, Rod."

"Don't be too sure of that, Josh," the other told him immediately;
"unless I miss my guess that man has got some project he's meaning to
put through, come what will."

"Oh! now I see what you mean, Rod; yes, as sure as anything he's
carrying something in his hand, and I do believe it must be a bomb that
he's meaning to throw over the barricade on to that battery! It's a
great scheme, Rod, but with not one chance in ten to succeed."

With strained eyes they watched the creeping figure with the telltale
red trousers that added so greatly to his peril. Shortly afterwards Josh
broke out again in what might be called a lament.

"Too bad, too bad, Rod, they've glimpsed him at last, just as I was
afraid they'd be doing. You can see some of their sharpshooters further
back are sending a rain of balls in that direction, for they make little
puffs of dust fly up everywhere they strike. He's bound to be hit in a
jiffy now. Oh! see that, would you?"

There could be no question but that one or more of the plunging bullets
had reached their intended mark, for the creeping soldier had rolled
over as if in agony.

"He's done for, poor c