Chester poked his head out the window of the cab, only to withdraw it
quickly, as a bullet struck a quarter of an inch from his ear. But in
that one brief glance he had taken in the situation.

A short distance ahead he could make out a small knot of British, almost
surrounded by Germans. The British had taken their stand directly on the
railroad track, the most strategic point for miles. A clump of small
trees screened them from the enemy on one side, but from the other three
directions the Germans were pouring in their deadly fire.

The British troops stood gallantly to their work, and returned volley
for volley. They fought on doggedly. Suddenly the armored train shot up
the line which the British were holding, and Hal brought it to an
abrupt stop.

Right and left the train poured in broadsides of machine-gun fire,
mowing down the Germans at every yard. The Germans fell in heaps, and,
as if by a miracle, both sides of the track were suddenly lined with
high piles of the dead.

The little troop of British received this unexpected aid with a great
cheer, broke from cover and dashed in pursuit of the great mass of
Germans, who now were fleeing on all sides.

But the success of the British was destined to be short-lived. Hal and
Chester, in the cab of the locomotive, had just raised a loud cheer when
there was a terrific explosion, followed by a thundering crash, and both
lads were hurled violently to the floor of the cab.