CHAPTER XXII

CAPTURED

Not without a rather creepy feeling did the three boys start on their mission, the outcome of which could only be guessed.  They were taking great risks, and they knew it.  But it was not the first time.  They had gone into the jungle to get films of wild beasts at the water hole.  They had ventured into Earthquake Land where the forces of nature, if not of mankind, were arrayed against them.  And they had dared the perils of the deep in getting pictures under the sea.

But these were as nothing compared to the mission on which they were now engaged, for, at any moment, there might go up from the German lines, not half a mile away, a string of lights that would reveal their presence to the ever-watchful snipers and sharp-shooters.

And, more than that, the whole area might suddenly be swept by a hail of bullets from a battery of machine guns.  Both sides had these deadly weapons in readiness, and it was well known that Fritz was exceedingly nervous and apt, at times, to let burst a salvo of fire without any real reason.

The fluttering of some armless sleeve on the body of a dead man, the rattle of a loose strand of barbed wire, the movement of a sorely wounded soldier lying out in the open, might draw the German fire.  And if the moving picture boys were caught in that they would be hard put to it to escape.

“The only thing to do, when you see a flash of fire, is to drop to the ground and lie as still as you can,” Blake had said to his chums before they started out.  “Duck your heads down on your arms and don’t move.  The lampblack will kill any glare from the lights and they may not see us.  So remember, don’t move if you see anything like a light.  It may be a glare from a discharged rifle, or it may be a rocket or star cluster.  Just lie low, that’s the way!”

And so, as they crawled on, in crouching attitudes, over the desolate stretch that lay between them and the place they sought, they made no noise, and kept a sharp watch.

Blake led the way, his hand ready on his pistol, and the other two boys followed his example.  Their gas masks were ready at their belts, but these were mainly an added precaution, as it was not likely, unless a general attack was contemplated, that the Germans would produce the chlorine.

Blake had gone a little way down the slope, Joe and Charlie following as closely as was safe, when the leader came to a halt.  Watching his dim form, his chums did the same.

“What is it?” whispered Joe, in the softest of voices.

“A figure,” answered Blake likewise.  “I’m not sure whether it’s a dead man or some one like us—­trying to discover something.  Do you see it?”

Joe looked.  He saw a huddled heap which might, some day, have been a man.  Now it was but a—­heap.  As the boys strained their eyes through the darkness they became aware that it was the body of a man—­a French soldier who had fallen in the engagement of a few days before, and who had not yet been buried.  There were many such—­too many on both sides for the health and comfort of the living.