Don Hale Over There
tarry for a single instant and expect to live.

 CHAPTER VI

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL

From relative security to the most appalling peril, and all in a moment of time, was the unhappy position into which the three ambulanciers had fallen. It was enough to drive the color from their faces, and send cold chills sweeping one after another through their frames.

The startled cries were still on their lips, when, almost as if a powerful spring had set them into motion, they began a race—a wild and furious race toward their goal—the tree-crowned ridge where the sentry stood. And each of the three ran as only people can run when the stake is the greatest in all the world—life itself.

Zip! Zip! Zip!

A regular fusillade of bullets was wickedly singing and humming past their heads and thudding dully into the turf close about them.

Like professional sprinters on the cinder path trying for a record the ambulanciers exerted themselves to the utmost, sometimes one in the lead, sometimes another. Now and then an obstruction made them swerve aside or inequalities in the ground slacken their pace, but never for a single instant did either of the trio cease his almost superhuman efforts.

Zip! Zip!

Still the bullets came flying through the air, first to one side of them, then to the other, now landing just behind, now just ahead.

Neck and neck, panting, perspiring, the three with their faces exhibiting all the terror and strain which such a situation would naturally create, kept doggedly on.

Neither Don, Dunstan nor Chase actually believed there was one chance in a thousand of winning that race against the snipers' lead. All were in the grasp of fear and despair. Yet, if the boys found their mental faculties tending to yield to the terror of the moment they did not allow that fact to interfere with their physical efforts.

It seemed as if that tree-crowned ridge were as far away as ever.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

No! It never could be reached in safety!

A sharp, startling snap sounded almost at the feet of the aviator's son—a stone had been splintered—shattered, and the 
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