t of the boat a shell burst
just over the fish-house, scattering a hail of metal over the flimsy
roof and tearing a jagged hole in the wall above the doorway. Running
to a window that looked out over the canal wharf, Jack saw Germans
scrambling up out of the hold of the U-boat, some of them carrying
rifles, others lugging a machine gun. The village was in wild confusion.

"Am I dreaming?" Jack asked himself incredulously, "or is the village
being attacked?"

For answer came another shell that ripped its way clean through the
frame building in which he was housed, bursting with a roar that
brought the flimsy structure crashing down upon the head of the
imprisoned boy. Blinded by the dust and splinters, he fought his
way madly through the mass of debris until he emerged clear of the
wreck. The first thing he stumbled upon was the body of the German
sentry who had been posted outside the guardhouse. He had been
struck down by a fragment of the shell and blood flowed from an
ugly wound in the head.

Jack paused only long enough to rip off the sidearms and ammunition
belt of the stricken German and then ran pell-mell across the open
space that fronted the old guardhouse to one of the village streets
up which the stream of German sailors had vanished. As he got an
unbroken view up the street and on to the higher ground that stretched
away from the village, Jack beheld a pitched battle in progress with
a skirmish line stretched out as far as the eye could carry. The
Germans had raffled to the defense of their hiding place and had
hurriedly thrown up an emplacement for their machine guns.
"Crack---crack----crack!" came the spitting of the rifles, interspersed
now and then with the louder detonation of light artillery.

Whoever they were, whether English, French, or American, Jack saw at
a glance that the village had been attacked. He thought of the U-boat
at the wharf and forthwith decided that his bit in the spectacular
drama now being staged was to prevent the escape of the craft.
Hurriedly retracing his steps, he made for the wharf, running at top
speed and drawing the revolver he had appropriated from the wounded
sentry. As he came dashing down to the wharf he discerned a German
at the quay-post endeavoring to cast off the towline.

"Drop that rope!" he commanded. The German turned, saw the approaching
boy and the menacing pistol. He threw up his hands instantly.

"Now get aboard as fast as you can," comma