Presently
steps sounded near them. A swift light swept the hole where they
crouched, a volley of rifle-shots crashed into it. The Americans
answered with their pistols, and saw three or four of the dark
forms on the edge of the hole topple over. The rest disappeared.
But Rosenlaube had a rifle-ball through his right hip and another
through his shoulder. Mitchell and Phipps-Herrick started to carry
him.
"Drop it," he whispered. "I'm safe here till dawn--you get home,
quick! Specially Phil. He's the one that counts. Cut away, boys!"
Meantime the American trench had opened fire and the German trench
answered. The still night broke into a tempest of noise. A bullet
or a bit of shell caught Mitchell in the knee and crumpled him up.
Phipps-Herrick lifted him on his back and stood up.
"Come on," he said, "you little cuss. You're the only one that has
the stuff we went out after. I'm going to carry you in, 'spite of
hell."
And he did it.
Mitchell told the full story of the change in the direction of the
German mine and the plan of the next assault, as he had heard it
through that lost receiver.
Pages:
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142