their puny foes and should slaughter them against the merciless
wires. It would not be a fair stand-up fight, this murder-rush of
hundreds of men against twelve who were penned in and could not
maneuver nor escape. And the thought of it was doing queer things
to the rookie's overwrought nerves.

Having passed the word to creep closer to the wires, he began to
execute the order in person, with no delay at all. But he was a
fraction of a second too late. The Germans were moving in hike-
formation with "points" thrown out in advance to either side--a
"point" being a private soldier who, for scouting and other
purposes, marches at some distance from the main body.

The point, ahead of the platoon, had swerved too far to the left,
in the blackness--an error that would infallibly have brought him
up against the wires, with considerable force, in another two
steps. But the Missourian was between him and the wires. And the
point's heavy-shod foot came down, heel first, on the back of the
rookie's out-groping hand. Such a crushing impact, on the
hand-back, is one of the most agonizing minor injuries a man can
sustain. And this fact the Missourian discovered with great
suddenness.

His too-taut nerves forced from his throat a yell that split the
deathly stillness with an ear-piercing vehemence. He sprang to
his feet, forgetful of orders intent only on thrusting his
bayonet through the Hun who had caused such acute torture to his
hand. Half way up, the rookie's feet went out from under him in
the slimy mud. He caromed against the point, then fell headlong.