to see if I can't
spot him. We've got to get him!"

Ned took off his tin helmet and put it on his bayonet. Then he slowly
raised it above the top of the trench, at the spot where the bullet
had come in. A moment later there was a vicious "ping!" and the helmet
bore a deep indentation.

"Spotted!" cried Ned. "I see where he keeps himself! And now, fellows,
if you'll help, we'll get Mr. Fritz Sharpshooter, and get him good!
I've got his address now!"

CHAPTER XVI

OVER THE TOP

"We haven't much time," remarked Jerry, as he glanced at the watch on
his wrist. "We'll be relieved in five minutes."

"That's long enough," returned Ned, with a grim laugh. "If this fellow
who has tried to get me--or one of you--so often, runs true to form,
he's done his last shooting. I know where he keeps himself."

"Where?" asked Bob.

Ned took his chums by the arms, and led them a little way down the
trench where there was an improvised periscope. It was not being used
by the officer in charge just then, and Ned peered through it.

He said nothing for a moment, and then called to Jerry:

"Take a look at that brush pile just inside the first line of German
wire."

"I see it," remarked Jerry, after a look through the mirror
arrangement.

"Well, that's where Mr. Fritz is keeping himself," said his chum.
"It's just in line with the direction from which that last bullet
came. I've been thinking for some time that he was hidden there, but I
wasn't sure until I saw the flash of his gun as he nearly hit me just
now. But now I'll get him!"

"That bush doesn't seem big enough to shelter a man," observed Bob, as
he, too, took an observation.

"There's a hole dug under it, and he's hiding in that," said Ned. "At
first I thought the sharpshooter was popping at us from some height,
and I believe he was, a week or so back. But now he has changed his
tactics. He's doing ground sniping, and that bit of bush hasn't any
roots."

"What do you mean?" asked Jerry.

"I mean it's a bit of camouflage. The sharpshooter moves it about with
him, thinking we'll believe it's natural. He scoops a hole, gets in
with only his head sticking out, and puts this bit of foliage in front
of him as a screen. Now, Bob, you take your helmet, and when I tell
you hold it up on your gun. Jerry, you come with me down the trench a
way, and please don't fire until after I do. If I miss, you get him,
but I want first shot.

"I want Bob to draw his fire, if h