m
and was just barely able to see that he had a blond youth younger than
himself. Shots came from the German line as he knelt there, but they
were merely random bullets whistling through the snowy gloom. He was
made of tenacious material, and the danger from the flying bullets
merely confirmed him in his purpose. Moreover, he could not bear to
return, and listen to those groans so near him. He grasped the young
German under the shoulders and dragged him to the edge of the trench.
Then he called softly:

"Carstairs, Wharton! I've got him! Help me down!"

Carstairs and Wharton appeared and Carstairs said:

"Well, you light-headed Yankee, you have come back!"

"Yes, and I've brought with me what I went after. Help me down with him.
Easy there now! He's hit hard in the shoulder!"

The two lifted him into the trench and John slid after him, just as a
half-dozen random shots whistled over his head. There they drew the
rescued youth into one of the alcoves dug in the wall and Carstairs
flashed his electric torch on his face, revealing features boyish,
delicate, and white as death now. His gray uniform was of richer
material than usual and an iron cross was pinned upon his breast.

"A brave lad as the cross shows," said Carstairs, "and I should judge
too from his appearance that he's of high rank. Maybe he's a prince or
the son of a prince. You've already had adventures with two of them."

"One of whom I liked."

"He looks like a good fellow," said Wharton. "I'm glad you saved him.
Rub his hands while I give him a taste of this."

John and Carstairs rubbed his palms until he opened his eyes, when
Wharton put a flask to his lips and made him drink. He groaned again and
tried to sit up.

"Just you lie still, Herr Katzenellenbogen," said Wharton. "You're in
the hands of your friends, the enemy, but we're saving your life or
rather it's been done already by the man on your left; name, John Scott;
nationality, American; service, French."

Captain Colton appeared and threw a white light with his own electric
torch upon the little group.

"What have you there?" he asked.

"Young German who lay groaning too near the edge of our trench," replied
Carstairs. "Scott couldn't stand it, so he went out and brought him in.
Fancy his name is Katzenellenbogen, Kaiserslautern, Hohenfriedberg, or
something else short and simple."

Captain Colton permitted himself a grim smile.

"Your act of mercy, Scott, does honor to you," he s