protecting bulk of the hogshead crouched the two
surviving Germans, while Roscoe, covering the spot, kept his eyes
riveted upon it for the first rash move of either of the pair. And
meanwhile the poison poured out of the very bulwark that shielded them
and into the swift-running stream.

"I don't think they've got us spotted," Tom whispered, moving cautiously
toward the trunk of the tree; "the private had a rifle, didn't he?"

"What are you going to do?" Roscoe breathed.

"Stop up that hole. Give me a bullet, will you?"

"You're taking a big chance, Tom."

"I ain't thinking about that. Give me a bullet. All _you_ got to do is
keep those two covered."

With a silent dexterity which seemed singularly out of keeping with his
rather heavy build, Tom shinnied down the side of the tree farthest from
the brook, and lying almost prone upon the ground began wriggling his
way through the sparse brush, quickening his progress now and again
whenever the diverting roar of distant artillery or the closer report of
rifles and machine guns enabled him to advance with less caution.

In a few minutes he reached the stream, apparently undiscovered, when
suddenly he was startled by another rifle report, close at hand, and he
lay flat, breathing in suspense.

It was simply that one of that pair had made the mistake so often made
in the trenches of raising his head, and had paid the penalty.

Tom was just cautiously crossing the brook when he became aware of a
frantic scramble in the bush and saw the German private rushing
pell-mell through the thick undergrowth beyond, hiding himself in it as
best he might and apparently trying to keep the bush-enshrouded hogshead
between himself and the tree where the sniper was. Evidently he had
discovered Roscoe's perch and, there being now no restraining authority,
had decided on flight. It had been the officer's battle, not his, and he
abandoned it as soon as the officer was shot. It was typical of the
German system and of the total lack of individual spirit and resource of
the poor wretches who fight for Kaiser Bill's glory.

Reaching the bush, Tom pulled away the leafy covering and saw that the
poisonous liquid was pouring out of a clean bullet hole as he had
suspected. He hurriedly wrapped a bit of the gauze bandage which he
always carried around the bullet Roscoe had given him and forced it into
the hole, wedging it tight with a rock. Then he waved his hand in the
direction of the tree t