CHAPTER XV

OVER THE CLIFF

"Take it easy now," suggested Jimmy, as, after a moment's pause, he and his chum began again their crawling to get down and off the little knoll. "Go slow!"

"You needn't tell me that!" complained Roger. "I'm willing to go as slow as the next one, only I want to see who's shooting at us."

"They're not anxious to be seen," came from Jimmy, as he slowly progressed. "I've been looking for a chance to take a shot myself, but I haven't seen so much as a finger. Our turn'll come, though."

"It can't come any too soon for me," asserted Roger.

They had not crawled more than ten feet to the right when again came unmistakable evidence that their movements were watched, even though they themselves might not be observed.

"Zip! Just like that!" exclaimed Jimmy with grim humor, as he heard the singing of a bullet over his head. "A little lower, and that one would have nipped me."

"Shall we go back?" asked Roger.

"No, let's keep on a little farther. This is our best play. If we can't get out on this side there isn't much use of trying the left. Snipers are almost sure to be there."

So they crawled on for perhaps ten feet, and then again they were fired at.

"No use!" exclaimed Jimmy, and there was a rather despairing tone in his voice. "We've got to go back."

"And try the left?" asked Roger.

"Yes. It's our only chance. If they fire at us from that side----" He did not complete the sentence, but Roger well knew what his chum meant.

Back they crawled, being fired at again, and when they were comparatively safe, at least for the time being, in the clump of trees, the two Khaki Boys looked at each other.

"They're German snipers all right," declared Jimmy.

"Sure thing," asserted Roger. "Probably the fellows that yelled '_Kamerad!_' and beat it when we came up toward their machine gun have got a lot more Boches and are going to try to take us prisoners."

That view of it was also Jimmy's, and he said as much, adding, however:

"They don't make a prisoner of me as long as I've got a shot left!"

"What are you going to do now?" asked Roger, as he saw Sergeant Jimmy loosen his belt a couple of holes. "Going to leave some of your stuff here?"

"Indeed not!" Jimmy quickly answered. "We need every thing we have on, though it's a load to carry. Can't take a chance and leave off even the gas masks. There's no telling when the Huns may take a notion to drop a gas shell in these woods, and there's not enough wind to carry the fumes away. No, indeed, we can't take any chances. I'm just going to make myself a little more comfortable. It's hard enough to carry all this outfit around when you're standing up, but it's worse when you're crawling. But perhaps a loose belt will help some."

"I'll try it, myself," returned Roger. "Well, if we don't get through this time what shall we do?" he asked.

Jimmy did not answer for a moment. He seemed to be considering some problem, and, indeed, the straits the two boys found themselves in was a problem that might well perplex older warriors.

"We'll try the left now," went on Jimmy, after a bit. "It would seem to be the least promising of all, but there's no telling. Come on, if you're ready."

"I'm as ready as I ever shall be," said Roger grimly. "Go ahead."

Once more they dropped prone and began to crawl along. This time they went more cautiously, making their way behind such shelter as was afforded by fallen trees, old stumps, and clumps of bushes. They also were careful not to move the foliage about them more than was absolutely necessary. For, in the opinion of Sergeant Jimmy, it was this movement, rather than direct views of themselves, which enabled the snipers to shoot at them.

"Guess maybe we'll make it this time," said Roger in a low voice, as he crawled along behind his chum. "What are you going to do when you get to the open place, Jimmy, old man?"

"Wait until we get there," advised Jimmy. "But I guess the only thing we can do is to run for it, and fight as we run. See that bunch of woods right ahead of us?"

"I see it," assented Roger.

"Well, let's make for that, and then, maybe, we can swing around and get back to our company. We can't stay very long in the open with all these snipers around us, and that bunch of trees is the nearest shelter. I don't know what they are, nor what they cover. They may be full of Huns, but we've got to do something, and we can't stay back here."

"I guess that's right," said Roger. "Keep on going. We haven't been fired at since we started on this path."

This was true, and the two young soldiers began to have hopes that they might get through.

"Though why it is I can't understand," said Jimmy. "I thought this section would be full of Huns, since we haven't done any fighting in this direction to drive 'em back."

Strange and hardly understandable as the situation was, still it remained as Roger and Jimmy noticed--that they were not fired upon during their painful progress to the left.

"Maybe they're saving it up for a grand bang-up," suggested Roger, when the twain had made their way perhaps fifty feet farther along.

"Don't be cracking jokes at a time like this!" half-growled Jimmy.

"It won't be a joke if it happens," snapped back Roger.

He and his chum went on a little farther. They were getting close to the edge of the woods now, and an open space lay before them. Across this, and it was rough ground marked by shell-holes, was another bunch of trees, the open place being perhaps five hundred feet in width.

"If we cross that and gain the woods, maybe we'll be safe, and--maybe not," murmured Jimmy. "Anyhow, we've got to make a try for it, Rodge. Are you ready?"

"Go ahead!" was the short answer.

"All right--come on. Jump up and run for it. But don't stand upright. Crouch as much as you can and run zigzag. And shoot--if you see anything to shoot at. Now come on!"

As Jimmy cried these words he leaped to his feet, an example followed by Roger. Then the two of them, crouching over and darting from side to side, ran into the open.

For a few moments they, thought they were going to have the way clear--that they would not be fired at. But this was not to be. Half way to the woods both boys saw off to their left several gray-uniformed figures leap up.

"There they are! Shoot!" cried Jimmy.

He fired from the hip, as did Roger. They were both pretty good shots, and they had practised this method, so they knew what they were doing. One of the Germans toppled over, though whether from the effect of Roger's fire or Jimmy's could not be told. But the others began firing in return, and the bullets sang about the heads of the Khaki Boys.

"Come on! Run faster!" yelled Jimmy, as he fired again.

"Say, there's a bunch of 'em!" cried Roger, as he saw more Huns springing up as if from holes in the earth where they had been hidden.

Jimmy did not answer. He was busy firing at the enemy, even as he was being shot at, and he had the satisfaction of seeing two more go down. One of these Roger got. Then Jimmy felt a sharp pain in one ear, and, clapping his hand to it, he saw his palm covered with blood.

"Hurt much?" cried Roger, as he dashed up beside his chum.

"No, just a graze, I guess. But keep away from me. The two of us together make a bigger target than one. Separate!"

He leaped to one side, and as he did so a bullet passed between him and Roger. They could hear it. Had they stood together one or both of them might have been hit.

On they staggered, firing as rapidly as they could under the circumstances. They crouched down, zigzagged from side to side, and hoped for the best. They were now within the fringe of the woods, and a few feet more would bring them within the shelter of trees.

But would they find more foes there? That was the question.

Suddenly there was a loud explosion, and, glancing back for an instant, Roger and Jimmy saw that a shell had torn a big hole in the earth at a spot where the German firing party had been massed. There was no firing party now.

"Was that one of our shells?" cried Roger.

"Hard to say," was Jimmy's reply. "It did the trick for us all right, though."

"If they don't come any nearer," added Roger grimly.

Exhausted and weary, they reached the woods. They dodged in among the sheltering trees, fearing any moment that they would be fired upon by enemies who might be concealed in the copse.

"I--I'm about all in!" gasped Roger.

"Same here!" panted Jimmy. "We've got to rest and get some water after we make sure this place is comparatively safe."

On they staggered. They could hardly breathe now, so great had been the rush and burdened, as they were, with equipment. They saw before them a little grassy glade, and at one edge of it was a spring of water. The sight was a welcome one.

"Over there!" cried Roger, pointing to it to direct Jimmy's attention. "We'll flop down there and----"

Roger's words ended in a mumble. Jimmy, thinking his companion had been shot, turned quickly in time to see a man standing behind Roger with an upraised club. He had struck Roger on the head, knocking him down.

Jimmy opened his mouth to utter a yell, though why he could hardly have told, and he was about to bring his rifle to bear on the assailant of his chum when Jimmy himself felt a stunning blow on his head just beneath his steel helmet. He went down limply, his eyes seeing nothing but blackness.

And as the two lads were struck down, their two assailants, who had leaped from behind concealing trees to take advantage of the panting, exhausted Khaki Boys, looked at one another with satisfaction.

"Now we've got 'em!" cried one.

"I should say so!" declared the other. "This'll end their tricks! Now, what'll we do with 'em?"

"Haul 'em up to the top of the hill and dump 'em over the cliff into the river. That'll get 'em out of the way and it won't be awkward for us. Come on, you drag one and I'll tackle the other!"

And suiting their action to these words, the two assailants hauled Roger and Jimmy to the edge of a cliff not far from where the two chums had been struck down. A moment later two limp bodies were pushed over the edge and there were two splashes in the foaming river that was studded by cruel rocks.