“Pass to one side,” advised Joe.  “We can’t do him any good.”

“Poor fellow!” murmured Charlie.  “Ouch!” he suddenly exclaimed, in louder tones than any they had heretofore used.

“Quiet!” hissed Blake.  “What’s the matter?”

“A big rat ran right over my legs,” answered Macaroni.

“Well, if he didn’t bite you what are you yelling about?” demanded Joe.  The trenches were full of rats—­great, gray fellows—­for there was much carrion food for them.

Once more, making a little detour, Blake started forward, but hardly had he again taken up his progress when there came the sound of a slight explosion over toward the German lines, and almost instantly the dreary stretch of No Man’s Land was brightly illuminated.

“Down!  Down!” hoarsely called Blake, and he and his chums dropped full length on the ground, never heeding puddles of water, the rats or the dead, for they became aware that more bodies were all about them.

Up from the German lines went a series of rockets and star clusters.  They made the battle ground between the two forces almost as bright as day, so that should any of the unfortunate wounded men be seen to move they might be killed.

Perhaps some keen-eyed Hun, watching for just this chance, had detected a slight movement near the dead man beside whom Blake and his chums first stopped.  And, knowing from a previous observation that the body was cold and stark, the sniper must have reasoned that the living had joined it.

Or perhaps the incautious exclamation made by Charlie when he felt the big rat may have been carried to the ever-listening ears.  However that was, the glaring lights were set off, and at once hundreds of rifles, aimed over the tops of the German trenches, began to send a hail of lead across No Man’s Land.

Fortunately the line of fire was either to one side of where the boys had fallen, or it was too high or too low.  They did not stop to consider which it was, but were thankful that they felt none of the leaden missiles, though some sang uncomfortably close.

For perhaps five minutes the glaring lights illuminated the blood-stained ground, and the firing was kept up at intervals.  It was replied to from the American and French lines, but with what effect could only be guessed.

And then, once more, darkness settled down, and the boys began to breathe more easily.  They had had a narrow escape, and their journey was not half over, to say nothing of the return trip—­if they lived to make it.

“Come on!” Blake cautiously whispered again.  “And bear off to the right.  The fire wasn’t so heavy from there.  Maybe we can find a gap to get through.”

His companions followed him as he crawled along, actually crawling this time, for it was not safe to rise high enough to walk even in a stooping position.  No one could tell when the glaring lights might be sent up again.