Stumbling and half falling, Tom and Jack were dragged along. Now
and then they could see, by means of the star shells, groups of men,
some near and some farther off. There was firing all along the Hun
and Allied lines, and as the boys were dragged along the big guns
began to thunder. What had started as an ordinary night raid might
end in a general engagement before it was finished.
There seemed to be fierce lighting going on between the several
detached groups, and the air service boys did not doubt that some
word of the dispersing and virtual defeat of the party they were
with had reached their lines, resulting in the sending out of relief
parties.
"This sure is tough luck!" murmured Jack to Tom, as they stumbled
along in the midst of their captors.
"You said it! If our boys would only rush this bunch and get us
away."
"Silence, pigs!" cried a German officer, and with his sword he
struck at Tom, slightly injuring the lad and causing a hot wave of
fierce resentment.
"You wouldn't dare do that if I had my hands free, you dirty dog!"
rasped out Tom in fairly good German, and he tugged to free his arms
from the hold of a Hun soldier on either side.
The officer who had struck Tom seemed about to reply, for he surged
through the ranks of his men over toward the captive, but a command
from some one, evidently higher in authority halted him, and he
marched on, muttering.
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