Silently, in the darkness of their trenches, the party of which Tom and Jack were to be members, prepared to go over the top and penetrate the German front line of defense, in the hope of taking prisoners that information might be had of them. It was a risky undertaking, but one frequently accomplished by the Allies, and it often led to big results.

There were about a score in the patrol, and, to their delight, though they rather regretted it later, Tom and Jack were given positions well in front, two files removed, in fact, from the lieutenant commanding.

“Now I suppose you all understand what you're to do,” said the lieutenant as he gathered his little party about him in one of the larger dugouts, where a flickering candle gave light. “You'll all provide yourselves with wire cutters, hand grenades and pistols. Rifles will be in the way. Take your gas masks, of course. No telling when Fritz may send over some of those shells. Blacken your faces, as usual. A star shell makes a beautiful light on a white countenance, so don't be afraid of smudging yourselves. And when we start just try to imagine you are Indians, and make no noise. One object is to come in contact with some German post, try to hear what's going on from their talk, and make some captures if we can. Do you all understand German?”

It developed that they did—at least no one would confess he did not for fear of being turned back. But, as it developed, they all had some, if slight, acquaintance with the language.

A little period of anxious waiting followed—a sort of zero hour effect—until finally the word was received from some source, unknown to Tom and Jack, to proceed. The night was black, and there was a mist over everything which did not augur for clear weather on the morrow.

“Forward!” whispered the lieutenant, for they were so near the German lines that incautious talking was prohibited. Out of their trenches they went, Tom and Jack well in front, and close to the leader.

As carefully as might be, though, at that, making noise which the members of the patrol thought surely must be heard clear to Berlin, they made their way over the shell-torn and uncertain ground in the darkness. They went down between their own lines of barbed wire to where an opening had been made opposite what was considered a quiet spot in the Hun defenses, and then they started across “No Man's Land.”

It was not without mingled feelings that Tom and Jack advanced, and, doubtless, their feelings were common to all. There was great uncertainty as to the outcome. Death or glory might await them. They might all be killed by a single German shell, or they might run into a German working party, out to repair the wire cut during the day's firing. In the latter case there would be a fight—an even chance, perhaps. They might capture or be captured.

On and on they went, treading close together and in single file, making little noise. Straight across the desolate stretch of land that lay between the two lines of trenches they went, and, when half way, there came from the German side a sudden burst of star shells. These are a sort of war fireworks that make a brilliant illumination, and the enemy was in the habit of sending them up every night at intervals, to reveal to his gunners any party of the enemy approaching.

But the brilliance of the star shells died away, and once more there was darkness. The lieutenant cautiously raised his head and in a whisper commanded:

“Forward! Is every one all right?”

“My mouth's full of mud and water—otherwise I'm all right,” said some one.

“Silence!” commanded the officer.

Once more he led them forward. They reached the first German wire, and instantly the cutters were at work. Though the men tried to make no noise, it was an impossibility. The wire would send forth metallic janglings and tangs as it was cut. But an opening was made, and the patrol party filed through. And then, almost immediately, something happened.

There was another burst of star shells, but before the Americans had an opportunity to throw themselves on their faces, they saw that they were confronted by a large body of Germans who had come forward as silently as themselves, and, doubtless, on the same sort of errand.

“At 'em, boys! At 'em!” cried the lieutenant. “The Stars and Stripes! At 'em!”

Instantly pandemonium broke loose. In the glaring light of the star shells the two forces rushed forward. There was a burst of pistol fire, and then the fight went on in the darkness.

“Where are you, Tom?”' yelled Jack, as he flung a grenade full at a big, burly German who was rushing at him with uplifted gun.

“Here!” was the answer, and in the darkness Jack felt his chum collide with him so forcefully that both almost went down in a heap. “I jumped to get away from a Hun bayonet,” pantingly explained Tom.

Jack's grenade exploded, blowing dirt and small stones in the faces of the chums. There were shouts and cries, in English, French and German. The American lieutenant tried to rally his men around him, but, as was afterward learned, they were attacked by a much larger party of Huns than their patrol.

“We must stick together!” cried Jack to Tom. “If we separate we're lost! Where are the others?”

“Sam Zalbert was with me a second ago,” answered Tom, naming a lad with whom he and Jack had become quite friendly. “But I saw him fall. I don't know whether he slipped or was hurt. Look out!” he suddenly shouted.

He saw two Germans rushing at him and Jack, with leveled revolvers. There was no time to get another grenade from their pockets, and Tom did the next best thing. He made a tackle, football fashion, at the legs of the Germans, which he could see very plainly in the light of many star shells that were now being sent up.

Almost at the same instant Jack, seeing his chum's intention, followed his example, and the two Huns went down in a heap, falling over the heads of their antagonists with many a German imprecation. Their weapons flew from their hands.

“Come on! This is getting too hot for us!” cried Jack, as he scrambled to his feet, followed by Tom. “There'll be a barrage here in a minute.”

This seemed about to happen, for machine guns were spitting fire and death all along that section of the German front, and the American and French forces were replying. A general engagement might be precipitated at any moment.

The American lieutenant tried to rally his men, but it was a hopeless task. The Germans had overpowered them. Tom and Jack started to run back toward their own lines, having made sure, however, of putting beyond the power to fight any more the two Germans who had attacked them.

“Come on!” cried Tom. “We've got to have reinforcements to tackle this bunch!”

“I guess so!” agreed Jack.

They turned, not to retreat, but to better their positions, when they both ran full into a body of men that seemed to spring up from the very ground in the sudden darkness that followed an unusually bright burst of star shells.

“What is it? Who are they? What's the matter?” cried Tom.

“Give it up!” answered Jack. “Who are you?” he asked.

Instantly a guttural German voice cried:

“Ah! The American swine! We have them!”

In another moment Tom and Jack felt themselves surrounded by an overpowering number.

Hands plucked at them toughly from all sides, and their pistols and few remaining grenades were taken from them.

“Turn back with the prisoners!” cried a voice in German.

The two air service boys found themselves being fairly-lifted from their feet by the rush of their captors. Where they were going they could not see, but they knew what had happened.

They had been captured by the Germans!