"The Turks are pretty good at torture," murmured Frank bitterly, "but
they must feel like thirty cents when they compare themselves with their
German masters."

"Let's get these things out of the way," said Billy wrathfully, as he
grasped one of the spikes.

But the corporal stopped him instantly. "Don't dig them out!" he cried.
"There's no knowing but what you may cause an explosion. Or they may
have some electric connection that will give warning to the Boches.
We've spotted the location of this infernal trap and that's enough. Our
officers will see that our men steer clear of it."

"Of course," remarked Bart, "all the value to the Huns of this trap
depends upon our boys jumping in from the top of the trench. If they
came in from the entrance to the dugout, all the trouble of planting
these spikes would be thrown away."

"It would be a trap just the same, only in a different way," replied the
corporal. "It's a safe bet that the Germans have machine guns planted
where they can sweep the whole length of this part of the trench. They'd
wait until our boys were all crowded in here and then the machine guns
would start spitting and wipe every last one of them out. There'd be no
way to get put except the way they had come in, and no one could get
through that storm of bullets. But now let's get out of this while the
going's good."

The conversation had been carried on in the faintest whispers, and after
the first hurried examination of the dummy trench there had been no
light. But they all felt better when they had passed out of the trench