One of the soldiers had taken station at the edge of the crater nearest the German line.  Here, with helmet off, and showing not a fraction of an inch more of his head above ground than was necessary, this sentry watched in the dark.

Again De Verne’s lips sought Dick’s ear as he whispered: 

“What we would like most to do is to find out what is going on in the Hun trenches.  Next to that, the thing we like best is to ambush a German patrol, capture or kill the men, and get back with our prisoners.”

“French patrols must often be captured, also,” Dick whispered cautiously.

“But yes!” replied the French lieutenant, with a shrug of his shoulders.  “It is a game of give-and-take, and all the luck cannot be ours.”

Still nearer the enemy’s wire defenses lay a smaller shell-hole.  By creeping up beside the sentry Prescott was able to see it.  He remained where he was while a soldier of the French party, holding a bomb in his right hand, crept out of the crater, moving noiselessly ahead.

Arrived at the edge of the smaller shell-hole the soldier sent back a hand signal, then crept down into concealment.

Up out of the crater started the sergeant without delay.  As he passed Prescott the noncommissioned officer gripped him, pointing backward.  There knelt De Verne, signaling to the American to accompany the sergeant.  Side by side the pair made the smaller shell-hole, which proved of just sufficient size to screen three men.

For three or four minutes the trio crouched here, listening intently, though no sounds came from the nearby German trench.

After waiting, as he thought, long enough, the French sergeant made an expressive gesture or two before the face of the soldier with him, who, after examining his bombs, crept out and forward, toward the barbed wire defenses of the enemy.

Short though the distance was, the man was gone more than five minutes.  Prescott, who at first could see the soldier as he moved, was not so sure of it later.  It was strange how that sky-blue uniform of the poilu merged into the dark shades of the night.

At last the soldier came back, reporting to his sergeant, though using only the language of hand signs.

With a nudge for Prescott the sergeant crept out of the hole, Dick following.  There was no thought of haste, yet at last they reached the first of the wire obstructions.  Now Dick was able to guess the meaning of the soldier’s recent hand signs.  He had discovered that the Huns had left narrow passages through their own wires, presumably for the use of German patrols.

This time it was the sergeant who went forward first.  Dick thrilled with admiration when he saw the French non-com pass the last of the barbed wire and creep up to the top of the German parapet, flattening himself and peering over and down.

Following closely Dick and the French soldier at his side saw the sergeant kick up slightly with one foot, a signal that caused the soldier to move to the top of the parapet; Prescott, therefore did the same thing.