save a man who, half an hour before, he had wished dead.

But he knew he could not go back. Something, he could not explain
what, urged him forward. How could he go back with his purpose
unfulfilled? What would the others say? In spite of the fact that he
had undertaken what every man of them had said was a madman's act, they
would in their heart of hearts scorn him for having played the coward.

Every muscle in his body ached; his hands were torn and bleeding; it
seemed to him as if there were hammers striking his temples; sparks of
fire were in his eyes,--still he struggled forward.

He lifted his head and looked around. Yes, he was near the spot which
Sergeant Beel had described. Daylight was now falling, and half an
hour later darkness would be upon them. If his mission were not
accomplished whilst the light lasted, the Captain would have to lie
until the morning, and if he were wounded, he might during those hours
die from loss of blood.

Again there was a crack of rifles, and he heard the whistle of bullets
as they passed by him; one of these was not more than a yard away.
What the Germans meant, he did not know, neither could he tell whether
he had been seen, but he was sure that his life was not worth a pin's
purchase.

He had left his sword behind--that was of no use to him now and would
be only an encumbrance--but he had his revolver ready to hand.

Feverishly he looked around him, but nowhere could he see the man he
sought. Still, he had done his duty; he could go back to Pickford and
the other fellows and tell them he had done his best and had failed.

But he stayed where he was.

He realised that he was faint and hungry. Since, early that Sunday
morning he had scarcely partaken of food; all day long there had been
mad fighting and deadly carnage, and in his excitement he had forgotten
hunger; now he thought he was going to faint. Then suddenly every
nerve became tense again. He saw not more than a dozen yards away a
man in German uniform; like lightning his hand flew to his revolver,
and he held himself in readiness. Scarcely had he done so, when he
heard a groan. The German also evidently heard it, for he quickly made
his way towards the spot from which the sound came.

A moment later Bob heard the German give a low laugh as if he were
pleased, but the laugh died in its birth; before it was finished, a
bullet from Bob's revolver had pierced his brain. Forgetful of danger,
he rushed