Jerry whirled around as though he had been shot. "Why don't you sneak up
and try to frighten a fellow to death?" he demanded.

"Sorry," Slim apologized. "Thought you heard me coming."

"I believe you did it on purpose," Jerry growled, as the other youth
again started off.

"I'll send in my card first next time," was Slim's parting remark.

"Well, be sure to make yourself known," retorted Jerry, "or I might
mistake you for a Boche and send in a bullet."

Slim's laugh floated back and he disappeared down a ravine through which
he was making for a higher point of observation further on.

Ten minutes elapsed and there was no sign of Slim. When a quarter of an
hour had passed Jerry began to get worried. Had his friend perhaps
fallen and injured himself? Had he lost his way? A dozen fears came into
Jerry's mind, and at the end of another five minutes he decided that it
was time to take some measure to learn the whereabouts of Slim.

Softly, but with great carrying force, he gave the well-known
"Whip-poor-will."

The answer was the same that Slim himself had received that night in No
Man's Land when the wounded and unconscious Rawle lay bleeding beside
him--nothing but absolute silence.

A great dread that he could not have defined gripped Jerry's heart.
Something had happened to Slim; there was no doubt about that. What was
it? Injury? Death? Capture?

Again Jerry gave their mutual Brighton signal: "Whip-poor-will."

"He can't be entirely out of hearing," he argued. "There's some reason
why he doesn't answer." It was fast growing dark. Sliding the pack-set
and their other paraphernalia into a little gully which he easily could
identify later, but where it would be entirely hidden from the view of
anyone else who might chance upon the scene, Jerry set out in search of
his friend.

It was a difficult task that he set himself, for he knew no more than
the general direction that Slim had taken. But remembering that his chum
had started off down the ravine, and that his purpose was to reach a
higher hill a quarter of a mile away, Jerry took that route, too.

Two or three times as he stumbled along he snatched out his pocket
searchlight and was about to use it, when some sixth sense, plus the
mystery of Slim's absence, prevailed upon him to take his chances in the
darkness.

Coming out of the ravine, he turned to the left and, by a steep incline,
reached a ledge that seemed to be a natural pathway to one of the h