them, but that distance precluded walking upright.

"Come on, boys! Fall in! Fall in!" cried their lieutenant as Roger and
Jimmy got back "We're going to advance. You're just in time!"

"Did you find him?" asked Bob, as he leaped to his feet in readiness for a dash toward the German lines.

"Yes. In a shell hole!" yelled Jimmy, for the firing was heavy on both sides of them now, making a vicious din.

"Alive!" Franz wanted to know.

"Yes, alive, but how long he'll be that way it's hard to say," answered Roger. "He was under a pile of dirt and—"

"Come on! Come on!" cried the lieutenant. "We're going to finish the job!"

He was leading his men, not driving them on as do the Germans, and nobly the four Brothers and their fellows followed the gallant lieutenant.

On they rushed—ever onward. About them swept the leaden hail of death. Shoulder to shoulder, firing from the hip, rushed the four Khaki Boys. And even in that terrible din of battle they spared a thought for the gallant comrade who would have been with him if he could.

With wild yells the Sammies swept over the first line of German trenches. The Boches had deserted them in the face of a withering rifle and machine-gun fire.

"Come on! Come on!" yelled the lieutenant again and again. "They're laying down a perfect barrage for us! The Huns can't get through to attack us!"

This was true, to a certain extent. Supported by the big guns in the rear, the 509th Infantry was rushing onward. Before them, and ever moving forward, was a never-ending curtain of fire—a hail of lead and steel.

As this curtain advanced, caused by the continual but slow elevation of the muzzles of the big guns, the infantry followed. And this fire kept the German support from coming to save the lines that were under attack.

"Wipe 'em out! Wipe out the Hun nests!" cried the lieutenant.

"It's our turn now!" grimly shouted Roger in Jimmy's ear.

Forward swept the company to which our heroes were assigned. For a time, during which the two chums had had a chance to get Iggy from the shell hole, there had been no advance. Now it came with a vengeance.

But the Germans were not idle. If their infantry was held back from making a counter-attack, their heavy guns, and here and there, machine-guns, were not idle. And these weapons tore big holes in the ranks of the Sammies. But ever the holes were closed up—comparatively closed up, that is, for the fighting of the Americans was not in close order, such as that in which the Germans so often advanced to their deaths.

At times the four Brothers would be close to one another, converging to get out of the line of some trench or avoid a shell hole. Again they would be yards apart But they kept in "contact," as it is called.

And ever as they advanced they fired their rifles into the German lines. True they could only now and then catch a glimpse of the foe, but they made those chances tell.

"Come on now, boys—a little farther and we'll have our objective! Just a few yards more!" cried the lieutenant who was leading our heroes. "Once we're at that barn, we can rest. Only a few feet more—only a few—"

His yelling voice suddenly ceased, and Jimmy, who was nearest, saw the gallant soldier crumple up, with a bullet through his head. And as he fell his men behind him, leaped over his body with wild yells of rage.

"Come on! Come on!" screamed Jimmy, inflamed to the point of madness. He was in command at this point now, following the death of the lieutenant. "Come on! Make 'em pay for that!" He choked back his sobs, for the lieutenant was well beloved.

On they rushed, on and on. The man on Jimmy's left was killed, and the comrade on his right fell with a shattered leg.

"I'm out of it!" suddenly shouted Franz, and he tried to hop on one foot, falling, a moment later, in a shallow hole.

On the others rushed, and finally, with wild yells, they drove the Germans from their last stand. The stone barn held a machine gun nest, and many of the Sammies were killed or wounded before the crew of Huns were scattered or captured—and there were very few of this last class, so desperate was their resistance.

From somewhere came the signal to cease firing, and, a little later, a captain came along and took charge.

"Who's in command?" he asked, seeing no commissioned officer in the group which had for a nucleus Jimmy, Roger and Bob.

"I am, sir," answered the former, saluting. "The lieutenant was killed."

A twitch of the face, and a hardening of the muscles about the captain's mouth were the only signs of emotion he showed, but his heart was torn—the boys knew that. The lieutenant was his only brother.

"Hold this place at all costs!" was the grim order. "I'll send an officer to take charge shortly. But hold the place!"

"Yes, sir." and Jimmy saluted again.

Quickly they took measures to do this—to make the stone barn, once the part of a French farm homestead, a position of defense. The German machine-gun, for which there was considerable ammunition left, was turned to point at the Hun line. But the Boches had withdrawn some distance. The Sammies had gained their objective, and the battle, for the time being, was over. Now there might come a counter-attack, and for this Jimmy, temporarily in command, prepared with his chums.

"Bob," called Jimmy to the former reporter, "you and Roger go back and see if you can pick up Franz, or any other of our lads who are alive. See what they need, and, if it's possible, get first-aid to them."

This was a welcome order to these two Khaki Boys and they started back over the ground won at such terrible cost. Already, though, gallant stretcher-bearers were searching among the dead to succor the living. And then, to their unutterable delight, Roger and Bob saw Franz limping toward them, using his rifle as a crutch.

"Thought you were done for, like poor Iggy," cried Roger.

"I thought so, too," answered Schnitz. "I felt sure my foot was lopped off, but it was only bruised on the ankle by a stone that some piece of shell must have kicked up. It's only badly bruised. I don't have to go to the rear!" and he said this joyously.

But there were many poor lads who did have to go to the rear, for they were torn and mangled. And there were some who had made their last fight. But it was a good fight. Oh, it was a good and noble fight! Be sure of that!

Assisting Franz, Roger and Bob got back to the barn, and there they took off their comrade's shoe. As he had said, his ankle was only bruised. He was able to limp along.

The Hun fighters had received more than they wanted. They had not only withdrawn to a good distance, but they did not even have nerve enough to launch a counter-attack. The American advance had been so well prepared that it won the battle.

"Well, now we have time to breathe and eat," commented Jimmy, who had been relieved in command.

"Say, a lot of things have happened since the zero hour this morning," remarked Roger.

"You said it!" declared Bob fervently. "If I was only on the paper now I could write a front page story, instead of a miserable little 'stick' about a runaway horse. Oh, but this was some fight!"

It was toward evening, and the tired doughboys were wondering what the night would hold for them, when Jimmy remarked:

"I'm going to see if I can find Sergeant