o the fire trench
with a sergeant and six men.

"This is the patrol," announced the younger Frenchman. "All my
men for to-night are veterans at the game. Captain Prescott, do you
wish to try your hand as a bomber tonight?"

"I am more expert, Lieutenant, with an automatic pistol."

"Very good, then; you may stick to that weapon," agreed the lieutenant.
"The sergeant and three men will carry their rifles; the other
three men will serve as bombers. You observe that our faces and
hands are blackened, as white faces betray one in No Man's Land.
We will now help you to black up."

There followed some quick instructions, to all of which Dick listened
attentively, for to him it was a new game.

"We have little gates cut through our own barbed wire," De Verne
whispered in explanation. "Do not be in a hurry, Captain, when
you leave the trench. Especially, take pains that you do not
catch your clothing on any of the barbed wire as we crawl through."

A few more whispered directions. While listening Dick studied
the faces of the waiting French soldiers, their bearing and their
equipment. Only the sergeant remained standing; the privates
disposed of themselves on the fire step for a seat. Two of them
even dozed, so far were they from any feeling of excitement.

"Ready, now, Sergeant," nodded the lieutenant.

"We are ready, Lieutenant," reported the sergeant.

"Proceed."

First of all the sergeant went up over the top of the trench,
crawling noiselessly to the ground beyond. After him, one at a
time, went the French soldiers.

"You next, Captain, if you please," urged Lieutenant De Verne.
"And do not forget that any betraying sound causes the night to be
lighted with German flares and that the Huns are always ready to
turn their machine guns loose."

Dick's hands were instantly on the rungs of the ladder. Up he
went, cat-like. By the time that he had crawled over the parapet
and had reached the first fence of tangled barbed wire be found
a French soldier, prostrate on the ground, waiting, and holding
open a gate that had been ingeniously cut through the mantrap.
Then the soldier crawled on to the next line of wire defence,
repeating the service, as also at a third line.

The last wire had now been passed. Still lying nearly flat, Captain
Prescott raised his head, staring ahead into the nearly complete
blackness of the night. He was in No Man's Land!

CHAPTER XVI

THE TRIP THROUGH A GERMAN TREN