shot at it
pointblank with his pistol. There was a murmured exclamation, and the
sentry went down, his finger pressing the trigger of his rifle,
discharging it as he fell dead.

"Come on now, boys! Give it to 'em!" cried the officer.

"Forward!" shouted Jerry Hopkins, and with Ned and Bob at his heels he
rushed ahead, the others stumbling after him. They had reached the
German trenches, and from them now poured several defenders. The main
body were in the dugout a little farther on, and it was desired to
attack this, and, if possible, capture some prisoners.

"Come on! Come on! Down with the Huns!" cried the lieutenant, and his
battle yell was echoed by Jerry and the others.

Then began a fight in the dark, the details of which were never very
clear to the Motor Boys. Bob said he let loose all the grenades he had
at the advancing party of Germans and then rushed at them, head down,
as though advancing the ball for a touchdown.

Ned declared that he fired his automatic pistol until he realized that
it was empty, and then, throwing it away, thought for the first time
of the grenades he carried. Then he began using them.

There was a deafening noise as the grenades of the Americans exploded
in the faces of the advancing Huns, and they, in turn, threw hand
bombs and opened fire with their rifles. The attack awoke to life
sentries and guard parties all along the line, and the scene was
illuminated by a burst of star shells.

"Come on! Into the trenches! They can't see us there so well!" yelled
Jerry.

"That's the idea!" commanded the lieutenant. "Get to the dugout!"

So desperate and sudden had been the attack of the Americans that,
after the first resistance, the Germans gave way and ran back, jumping
down into the trenches whence they had come.

The raiding party asked nothing better than to follow, and for a time
pursued the Huns along their own trenches, the bursting star shells
above giving light enough to see.

"Are you there--Ned--Bob?" demanded Jerry, as he ran on, following the
tortuous line of the trench.

"I'm here!" answered Ned.

"So'm I," added Bob. "Haven't a shot left, though."

"Here, take these," and Jerry handed over some spare grenades he had
in a pouch slung at his back. "Don't pot any of our men, though. Some
are ahead of us."

On ran the Motor Boys, and in another moment they came to the
dugout--a pretentious affair of concrete, now well lighted, for the
alarm of the attack had spr