Jerry went out with the others. The riot started by the raid had quieted down, and it was possible for the searchers to advance above their own trenches without drawing the German fire.

First the sentries who had been on duty near the gap in the American wire were questioned. They had seen the party depart and come back, but they had not noticed any member of it fall as though wounded, and they were positive no Germans had been able to get near enough to capture Private Baker.

"But what can have happened to him?" asked the lieutenant.

"He may have been wounded internally, and didn't speak of it, Sir," suggested Ned, whose own wound was troubling him woefully. "Then he may have become so weak that he fell in the trench somewhere without a sound."

"That is possible. We must make a careful search."

This was done with pocket flashlights, for any general illumination would have, perhaps, drawn a German attack. But no sign of Bob was revealed. It was most mysterious, how he could disappear so suddenly and completely. Of course, in the general confusion, much more than this might have happened and not been noticed. But unless he had gone back after speaking to Jerry, he must either have fallen well within the American lines or have been captured there. And the last did not seem possible.

"Well," said the lieutenant, "we'll have to go over in No Man's Land and take a chance there. He must have gone back after something, and been potted. I'll have to go back and report and----"

He paused to listen. The tramp of approaching feet could be heard along the trench. Every man stood at attention, for it was possible that the enemy had slipped in between sentries and were going to pay a return visit.

But a moment later the murmur of voices was heard--voices that were unmistakably American. Some one asked:

"Is your squad stationed here?"

"About here, yes, Sir," was the answer, coming out of the darkness.

"It's Chunky!" cried Jerry.

"That's Bob!" added Ned, joyously.

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