about
ten miles north of here, where the country's suitable for tank work.
He's doing some great fighting, too."

"I don't need to be told that," replied Frank. "That fellow would
rather fight than eat."

"Well, so long, fellows," said Dick, as he rose to his feet. "Keep a
sharp eye on those boches across the river."

"Trust us," replied Frank. "They'll never get over here."

The aviator's warning had been heeded by the officers, and detachments
were stationed at places along the river above and below the main
bridge.

Suddenly one morning, a whole fleet of boats, large and small, shot out
at the same instant from the enemy side of the river. They were loaded
with men and machine guns, and the evident plan was to get a footing on
the American side which could be held until reinforcements could be
hurried over and make the footing secure.

At the same time a tremendous gunfire strove to protect the crossing
and clear the banks at the points where the boats were planning to land.

Before the American guns could get the range on the rapidly moving
targets, the boats were halfway across the river, and the rowers were
pulling like mad. One boat after another was struck and the occupants
thrown into the river. But the Germans had allowed for the loss of
some of the boats, and were perfectly resigned to lose them, provided a
certain percentage of all could effect a crossing.

"Let them get here," muttered Frank, who, with Bart and Billy, was
among the force which had been assigned to that point where the passage
was being attempted. "They'll never get back again."

The surviving boats drew closer to the shore. The men on the boats
were using their machine guns, and the banks were swept by a rain of
bullets. More of the boats went down under the return fire, but a full
dozen of them finally struck the shore. The crews jumped out in the
shallow water and commenced to wade ashore.

But they were doomed men. With a yell the American boys swept down
upon them. Frank and his comrades rushed into the water, and there was
a battle that must have resembled those of the old Vikings. Back and
forth the combatants struggled, shooting, hacking, swinging their gun
butts. Some of them, locked in a death grip, went down together in the
water that was taking on a reddish tinge. Others floated away on the
stream. Others of the enemy, seeing that the fight was going against
them, leaped back into the boats and strove