nch, and don't lose your head. That cousin of yours is hunting for
you. I sent him forward too. Nurse, the new troops are here; every
trench and shelter is full of men. A big day, children, a big day!"

He rubbed his muscular, sensitive hands together. Another roar shook
the ground and balls of dirt rolled down the walls of the First Aid
Station. They heard the muffled beat-beat of feet running through the
trenches toward the front.

Zaidos, shivering, his teeth chattering with excitement, buckled on his
aid kit and bolted out with a last wave of the hand. He hurried over
through the short trench into the cook house, and then made his way
along the trench toward the front. A return fire was beginning now,
and high in the sky was seen the first Zeppelin. Like a great bird of
prey it circled high in air above the lines. Then from somewhere in
the rear an English airship skimmed to meet it. The bull-nosed
Zeppelin soared and the lighter machine followed, light as a swallow.
Zaidos stared, fascinated. He could see spurts of smoke from one and
then the other. Another delicate craft passed overhead and joined the
first English ship in pursuit. Zaidos stumbled on, still trying to
watch the chase. He was suddenly thrown violently to the ground, and
covered with earth. Screams of agony came from the trench ahead. He
scrambled to his feet and ran forward. A dozen men, tumbled together
in horrible confusion, lay tossing and shrieking. Zaidos turned faint
for a moment. They were the awful flat, senseless cries of hurt
animals. "A-a-a-a-a-a-a!" they shrilled and some of them tore at their
wounds. Zaidos ran for the nearest man and knelt beside him. He tried
to turn what was left of his body, and could not. He glanced around
for help. Sneaking past toward the rear he saw a familiar figure. It
was Velo Kupenol. Zaidos called him sharply, and the stern note of
authority made Velo turn.

"Come here quickly!" commanded Zaidos.

"I can't!" panted Velo. "Zaidos, it makes me sick! I'm going to the
rear for a little while."

Zaidos looked up at the face, white with cowardice.

"Come here!" said Zaidos. Still kneeling he pointed a small but
business looking revolver at his cousin's heart. "Come here!" he
ordered.

Velo obeyed, the look on his face changing from white terror to black
hate.

Zaidos saw the look, and read it with unconcern.

"Come here, Velo!" He held Velo's shifty eyes. "You get to wo