Hal and Chester joined the circle of spectators and derived as much amusement as the others from the proceedings.  At length, tiring of their present victim, the men lowered him to the ground.  One of them, a large, strapping fellow, perhaps thirty years of age, cast his eye around the circle of faces.

“Let’s get another one,” he shouted.

There was a chorus of assent from the others and all six set to looking about for a victim who would not prove too willing.  As Hal said to Chester, apparently there was no fun tossing a man who took it good naturedly.

At last the big fellow gave a howl of delight and dashed forward.  Hal gazed after him.  As the big fellow bounded forward, a slight figure in the first row turned and ran.  But the big fellow overtook him and dragged him back.

“Here’s one, men,” he cried.  “See, he doesn’t want to come with me.  He doesn’t know what a good time he is going to have.  We’ll give him a good one.”

The others lent a hand and dragged the unwilling captive forward.  As they would have put him on the blanket, the youngster—­for such the captive proved to be—­protested.

“Some other time, fellows,” he said.  “I’m sick to-night.  I hadn’t ought to be out at all, but I couldn’t stay in the tent any longer.  I’ll let you toss me in the blanket some other time, but please let me alone to-night.”

From where Hal and Chester stood it was plain to see that the boy was telling the truth.  His face was deathly pale and he looked very ill.

“Great Scott,” said Hal, “they shouldn’t torment him.  He is telling the truth.”

“Certainly he is,” Chester agreed.  “I believe the boy is very ill.”

But the young French boy’s protest fell on unheeding ears.

With loud guffaws the men grabbed hold of the blanket and sent the captive spinning aloft.  Two, three times he rose and fell, and upon the last was still in the blanket.  Apparently the men who held the blanket had not noticed this, however, for they were preparing to toss him aloft again.  But Hal had detected the lad’s condition.  He decided it was time for some one to interfere, and as no one else apparently was ready to call a halt on the proceeding, he determined to take a hand himself.

Quickly he shed his overcoat and then tossed off his jacket and passed them to Chester.

“Hold ’em!” he said, and sprang forward.

At the edge of the circle he halted and gazed at the big Frenchman, who had chanced to turn in his direction.

“Let the boy go,” he said.  “Can’t you see that he is unconscious?”

The big Frenchman grinned at him.  When Hal had taken off his coat, he had removed all signs of his rank and the soldier had no means of knowing he was an officer.

“One more toss,” said the Frenchman.

Hal stepped close to him.

“The boy is unconscious,” said the Frenchman, and added:  “Then we’ll take you.”