CHAPTER III
AMONG THE MISSING
Frank's heart was beating like a triphammer and his nerves were at afearful tension. The next five minutes would probably determinewhether he was to live or die.
But he kept himself well in hand and to all appearances he was only atired German soldier going to his bunk.
As far as he could without attracting attention, he kept carefully awayfrom the low fires around which some of the Germans were sitting. Butat one point he was forced to pass within the zone of light, and one ofa group threw a laughing remark at him, occasioned probably by the cutsin his coat which he had been compelled to make when he had strippedhis prisoner.
"_Asel!_" Frank flung back at him and passed on, thankful that he atleast knew the German term for jackass.
Nearer and nearer he drew to the confines of the camp. Here the greatdanger lay, for he knew that it would be closely guarded after theday's fighting.
If he were challenged what should he say? To the sentinel's "_Werda?_" he could answer "_Freund_." But when he was told to advance andgive the countersign what would be his answer?
He had it ready. But it would not suit the Germans.
At the point that he had selected for his attempt, there was an openingin the wire that had been hastily strung to guard against a possiblenight attack by the American forces.
Up and down in front of this a stalwart sentry was pacing. He stoppedand looked sharply at Frank, as the latter approached. When he was tenfeet distant the sentry presented his bayonet and called:
"_Halt_! _Wer da_?"
"_Ein freund_," responded Frank.
"_Losung_," demanded the sentinel, asking for the countersign.
"America!" answered Frank, and hurled his revolver full in the sentry'sface.
The heavy butt of the weapon landed plumb in the middle of the German'sforehead. He had opened his mouth to shout, but no sound came forth.The rifle fell from his hands and he went down like a log.
With a leap Frank got through the gap in the wire and started runninglike a deer toward the American lines.
There were startled shouts behind him, hoarse commands, a rushing offeet and a crackling volley of shots. The bullets whizzed and zippedclose to him and he felt a sharp sting as one of them grazed the lowerpart of his left arm. Once he stumbled and fell headlong, but hescrambled hastily to his feet and ran on.
But now a new peril was added. Behind him a star-shell shot up,followed by another and another, together with strings of "blazingonions," until the broken field over which he was making his way becamealmost as bright as day. In that greenish radiance his flying figurestood out sharply, and the firing which had been wild now became moreaccurate. At the same time, a look behind him showed that a troop ofmen had been hastily organized and was rushing after him.
This, however, gave him little concern. A bullet might catch him, butthese heavy Germans, never!
But just as he was comforting himself with this thought he tripped andwent down with a shock that jarred every bit of breath out of his body.
He struggled to get up but could not move. His lungs labored as thoughthey would burst. His legs refused to obey his will. He felt as if hewere in the clutches of a nightmare.
And all the time he could hear the pounding of his pursuers' feetdrawing closer and closer. Would he never be able to breathe again?
Little by little, during seconds that seemed ages, his breath came backto him, in short gasps at first but gradually becoming longer, until atlast he rose weakly to his feet.
He started out again, slowly at first, but, as his wind came back tohim, gathering speed at every stride. But now his pursuers wereperilously near. Those precious seconds lost perhaps had been fatal.
His fingers gripped the handle of his knife. He would not be taken.Capture in that uniform meant certain death. No German should gloatover his execution. If brought to bay he would die fighting then andthere, using his knife so savagely that his enemies would have to shoothim to save themselves.
Commands to halt came from behind him accompanied by bullets, but heonly ran the swifter.
But just then a tumult rose from another quarter. The lines in frontof him seemed to awake. Lights flashed here and there, a mass offigures detached themselves from the gloom, and in the light of astar-shell Frank saw a detachment of American troops coming on the run!
His pursuers saw them too and the chase slackened. There was a hurriedgathering for consultation, a volley of shots, and then the Germansbeat a hasty retreat, hotly pursued by a band of the Americans whileanother group of them rushed up and surrounded Frank.
"Why, it's a Hun!" exclaimed one of them disgustedly, as his eyes fellon the uniform. "Only a deserter, and we thought they were chasing oneof our own men."
"That's one on us," remarked another. "The rest of the boys will havethe laugh on us for sure."
"Do I look like a Heinie?" demanded Frank with a grin. "I can lick thefellow that calls me one."
A shout of amazement rose from the crowd as they gathered close to him.
"Sheldon! Sheldon! Old scout! Bully boy!"
They mauled and pounded him until he was sore, for he was the idol ofthe regiment. There was a rush, and Bart and Billy had their armsaround him and fairly hugged the breath out of him.
"Frank! Frank!" they exclaimed delightedly. "We thought you weregone. The last we saw of you, you were fighting like a tiger, but thenthe enemy reinforcements came and we were swept away from you. Wedidn't know whether you were dead or a prisoner. Thank God you'reneither one nor the other."
"Pretty close squeak," smiled Frank happily. "But a bit of luck, andthese two legs of mine carried me through, and I'm worth a dozen deadmen yet. But I'm hungry as a wolf, and if you fellows don't feed me upyou'll have me dead on your hands."
"Trust us," laughed Bart. "You can have the whole shooting match. Thewhole mess will go hungry if necessary to fill you up. Come along nowand tell us the story."
It was a happy crowd that bore Frank back in triumph to his oldquarters. There the rest of the boys flocked about him in welcome andjubilee.
"Not a word, fellows," protested Frank laughingly, "until I get theserags off of me. It's the first time I ever wore a German uniform and Ihope it will be the last. I feel as if I needed to be fumigated beforeI'm fit to talk to decent fellows again."
It was a long time before the hubbub quieted down, and he had to tellhis story again and again before the other soldiers left him alone withhis own particular chums.
"Where's Tom?" asked Frank. "Our bunch doesn't seem complete withouthim. On special duty somewhere, I suppose?"
Bart and Billy looked at each other with misery in their eyes.
"What's the matter?" asked Frank in quick alarm, as he intercepted theglance. "Great Scott!" he added, springing to his feet. "You don'tmean to say that anything's happened to him?"
Bart shook his head soberly.
"We don't know," he answered. "The last any of the boys saw of him hewas hacking right and left in a crowd of the boches. But he didn'tcome back with the rest of us."
"You don't mean to say he's dead?" cried Frank. "You're not stallingto let me down easy?"
"Not that," protested Billy quickly. "Honor bright, Frank. The burialparties haven't come across him at last reports, and he hasn't beenpicked up as wounded. That's all we know. The chances are that he'sbeen taken prisoner."
"Prisoner!" repeated Frank in blank despair. "Tom a prisoner of theHuns! Heaven help him!"