'It was a bullet woke him up anyhow,' exclaimed Dave, as he scurried
after.

The Prussian was beside himself with pain. He had been shot through one
hand, and there is no more agonising injury. He ran blindly, and as it
chanced almost in a straight line for the trench.

A score of heads popped up to see what was happening, and when their
owners realised the truth a roar of laughter burst out all down the
trench.

It was not until the German was on the very edge of the trench that he
realised where he was. He spun round to bolt.

But Roy was at his heels.

'No, ye don't, fatty,' said the big New Zealander, and catching the man by
the scruff of the neck, gave him a tremendous push which sent him flying
over into the trench. Roy sprang down after him, and a moment later, Dave
and Ken hurled themselves into cover.

'Is it steeplechasing ye are, or what fool's game is it ye are playing?'
demanded Sergeant O'Brien, while the rest shrieked with laughter.

'He--he's my prisoner,' panted Ken. 'And--and, sergeant, did Norton get
back?'

'He did. Come along wid ye, and make your report to the colonel.'