Harry. "This is one of the Huns, all right, and we've got him at last. What is there to kick about, I'd like to know?"
"Why, don't you understand? He's wounded!" said Tom scornfully.
"Wounded! How?" echoed the other, still groping for the truth.
"Somebody shot him in the leg!" explained Tom, in disgust. "Just as I was bound to jump him in another ten seconds! Did you ever hear of such tough luck? Took the wind right out of our sails, he did, by using his gun. If he'd put a bullet in my leg I could hardly feel madder, for a fact."
Harry, however, quickly chuckled, as though he did not look at the matter in the same way as his chum seemed to.
"Oh, well, the main thing isn't that we'd get a little glory from the capture of the Hun," he said, "but that their desperate game has been blocked. But this chap seems to be groaning as if suffering, Tom. He ought to be taken care of, Boche or not."
"Yes, that's right, Harry," added the other, for the time being crushing down his disappointment.
As some of the attendants of the aviation field came up just at that moment there was need for
