Quickly the British and German soldiers returned to their shelter on opposite sides of the road.  Five minutes passed.  Then a British soldier who had exposed himself tumbled over, struck by a stray German bullet.

The battle in the dark was on again.

CHAPTER VII.

The fight in the woods.

Chester had drawn Stubbs to shelter behind a large tree, and now, bending over the little war correspondent, sought to stop the flow of blood from his wounds.  Stubbs was not seriously injured, although he had been badly scratched and bitten in the back of the neck.

“You are a fine bunch, you are!” exploded Stubbs when Chester announced that he had dressed the wounds as well as he could.  “Wanted to see those cats chew me up, didn’t you?”

“You are a brave man, Mr. Stubbs,” replied Chester.  “You have accomplished a feat you may well be proud of the rest of your life.  It isn’t every man who has the chance of distinguishing himself by slaying three wild cats single handed.”

“Were they wild cats?” asked Stubbs in surprise.

“Well, they were cats and they certainly were wild,” replied Chester.  “Yes, sir, you are a brave man.”

“I know that,” said Stubbs, “but just the same you fellows should have pitched in and helped me out.”

“Had we not been struck motionless by your great display of courage, we might have done so,” replied Chester, smiling to himself.  “But surely you would not have had us rob you of the glory?”

“Well, no, I wouldn’t have wished that,” answered Stubbs.  “But just the same when a man is attacked by a bunch of wild cats, the first thing he thinks of is help.”

“But tell me, Mr. Stubbs,” said Chester, “what were you doing in the road in the first place?”

“Why,” muttered the little man, somewhat confused, “I was seeking to make out the number of the enemy so that I might tell you whether we were strong enough to defeat them.”

“That’s all right; I just wanted to know.”

Mr. Stubbs peered out from behind the tree, and as he did so a German bullet went whizzing by.  Mr. Stubbs hurriedly threw himself upon the ground.

“What’s the matter?” demanded Chester, although he knew well enough.

“A slight illness,” replied Mr. Stubbs.  “I am somewhat faint.  I fear I overexerted myself in my struggle with the wild cats.”

He lay there behind the tree, stretched out at full length.  Nor could he be induced to get to his feet.

Slowly the last half of a moon arose, giving a little light but making the shadows deeper.

Bullets whistled through the trees at regular intervals now, and wherever a man exposed himself the German sharpshooters ran him quickly back to cover or shot him down.

But the British, excellent marksmen that they were, in spite of their losses were having the better of the encounter.  Wherever a German arm or leg was exposed, there a British bullet struck.  Consequently the firing soon became desultory and then ceased altogether.