e of them had crossed it. Where their line was
running he could not determine.

He knew if the Americans saw his column of German uniforms they were in
danger--captors and captives alike--of being annihilated. At any moment
the Germans from the two hilltops down the valley--to check the
Eighty-Second Division's advance--might lay a belt of bullets across
the course they traveled.

Winding around the cleared places and keeping in the thickly timbered
section of the hillslope whenever it was possible, Sergeant York worked
his way toward the American line.

In the dense woods the German major made suggestions of a path to take.
As York was undecided which one to choose, the major's suggestion made
him go the other one. Frequently the muzzle of York's automatic dimpled
the major's back and he quickened his step, slowed up, or led the column
in the direction indicated to him without turning his head and without
inquiry as to the motive back of York's commands.

Down near the foot of the hill, near the trench they had traveled a
short while before, York answered the challenge to "Halt!"

He stepped out so his uniform could be seen, and called to the Americans
challenging him, and about to fire on the Germans, that he was "bringing
in prisoners."

The American line opened for him to pass, and a wild cheer went up from
the Doughboys when they saw the column of prisoners. Some of them
"called to him to know" if he had the "whole damned German army."

At the foot of the hill in an old dugout an American P. C. had been
located, and York turned in his prisoners.

The prisoners were officially counted by Lieut. Joseph A. Woods,
Assistant Division Inspector, and there were 132 of them, three of the
number were officers and one with the rank of major.

When the Eighty-Second Division passed on, officers of York's regiment
visited the scene of the fight and they counted 25 Germans that he had
killed and 35 machine guns that York had not only silenced but had
unmanned, carrying the men back with him as prisoners.

When York was given "his receipt for the prisoners," an incident
happened that shows the true knightliness of character of this untrained
mountaineer.

It was but a little after ten o'clock in the morning. The Americans had
a hard day's fighting ahead of them. Somewhere out in the forest York's
own company--Company G--and his own regiment--the 328th Infantry--were
fighting. He made inquiry, but no one could direct