ou, gentlemen, that I shall
be glad of the slightest excuse for killing you!"

It was the German colonel who came first, for he was the nearer
one. There was no visible sign of his being armed, but the younger
man in the sky-blue uniform carried an automatic in a holster
at his belt. Dick deftly took the pistol from the holster and
was now doubly armed.

"Not the lightest outcry, nor the least attempt at treachery!"
Dick warned them sternly. "Face west! March!"

Though both prisoners obeyed promptly Captain Prescott was not
simple enough to imagine that they had no plan or hope of rescue
or escape. In making this double arrest Dick had realized fully
that he was probably throwing his life away, yet he had deemed
possible success worth all the risk.

After going thirty or forty yards the older prisoner halted squarely.

"Proceed!" Dick ordered in a stern whisper, aiming one of the
pistols at the defiant one's breast.

"I do not care about being killed needlessly; neither do you,"
said the colonel. "I can save my life, and give you some chance
for yours by informing you that, at the moment you appeared in
the dug-out, I pressed one foot against a signal apparatus that
calls our men back to these trenches. Just now I heard them entering
a trench section ahead. Others have entered behind us. Your
chance, your only one, will be to climb over this parapet and
do your best to reach the French lines. If you decide to do that,
I give you my word that I will not allow our men to fire upon
you as you withdraw."

"A German's word!" mocked Dick. "Who would accept that?"

"It is your last chance for life."

"And you are throwing away your last chance, both of you!" Dick
uttered in a low voice. "Each of you is within a second of death.
March!"

With an exclamation that sounded like an oath the German colonel
obeyed, followed by the younger man and Prescott. Neither of
the prisoners had dared risk lowering his hands.

"You are foolish---life-tired!" warned the colonel, in a hoarse
whisper.

"If you speak again I'll kill you instantly," Prescott snapped
back.

After that the prisoners proceeded in moody silence, until, at
last, they rounded out a traverse and ran into several soldiers.
But these soldiers wore the French uniform. In a word, they
were Lieutenant De Verne's party.

"Prisoners!" cried De Verne, in a hoarse whisper. "Captain Prescott,
you are indeed wonderful! But no, you bring only one p