Hardly was Sergeant Hal going at full speed again when another obstacle loomed up in his way. This was an intrenchment front, sloping as he approached it, but with a sheer drop of some three feet on the other side.
Straight up the slope dashed Hal Overton. For a fraction of a second, as he left the top of the barrier, his wheel looked more like an odd airship, but now the forward wheel struck the ground beyond once more, the rear wheel swiftly following, and the dispatch rider was going onward faster than ever.
The small boys now led in the noise that came from the spectators"
seats.
Just ahead lay the greatest peril of the path for the military dispatch rider. Here, in the hill scene, had been cut an actual gully, some eighteen feet deep, and fully twelve feet across.
Just a few minutes before a squad of soldiers had placed across this gully the trunk of a tree, shorn of its limbs and trimmed down close.
As Sergeant Hal now approached this tree trunk, which was not, at its thickest part, more than a foot in diameter, his purpose dawned upon the watching thousands.
This tree trunk represented the only possible way of getting over the gully.
Surely, the young rider would slow down, dismount, take the wheel on his shoulders and cross the slim bridge on foot.
But the crackling out of more shots behind him told the onlookers that the young dispatch rider in Uncle Sam"s khaki uniform must make great haste.
Hal lay on harder than ever on his pedals. His speed carried to the onlookers the reality of a desperate race of life and death.
Close to the nearer edge of the gully stood a solitary figure, that of Corporal Noll Terry, who had had charge of the men laying the tree trunk across the gully.
Noll still stood by, watching, ready to be at hand if anything happened.
One other man watched, though from a considerable distance.
This man was Private Hinkey, who alone knew the secret of his willing industry since reaching this camp.
Hinkey, unseen by others, had managed treacherously to "fix" the log in a manner that had defied detection.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Sergeant Hal"s Forward Wheel Struck the Log.]
"There"ll be an end to the sergeant kid, in two seconds more!" gloated the rascal.
Sergeant"s Hal"s forward wheel struck the log, throwing full weight upon it. There was a snapping crackle, then a shriek from thousands.
For the log had snapped in two, and Sergeant Hal Overton, thrown head downward, was on his way to a broken neck at the bottom of the gully.
CHAPTER XIII
CHASING A SPEEDING DESERTER
INSTEAD of one, there were two flying bodies headed toward the gully"s bottom. Corporal Noll Terry, standing there, had heard the ominous crackle of snapping wood.
If there is one thing that a soldier is taught above another, it is to think and move swiftly at a critical moment.
Noll saw the tree trunk sag downward, in just the fraction of a second ere it broke.
Nor did Corporal Terry wait to see more.
With his eyes on his bunkie, Terry made a prompt leap downward.
He had the advantage of landing on his feet. He was jarred, but there was no time to stop to think of that.
At a bound he was far enough forward, his arms outstretched, to swing hold of head-downward Hal Overton.
The impact might have been too much. Sergeant Hal might even yet have landed on his head. But, as he threw him arms around Hal, Corporal Terry threw himself over backward.
He fell with a thump, but was shaken up--no bones broken.
Sergeant Hal landed on top of his bunkie unhurt.
In an instant they separated, each leaping to his feet.
The falling halves of the tree trunk had fallen perilously close to the boyish non-coms., yet by a stroke of good fortune neither of the comrades had been struck.
"Thank you, old bunkie! The best ever!" glowed Hal, as without a backward look he raced to pick up his wheel. "Hurt?"
"Not a bit," gasped Noll, his wind jarred out of him for the moment.
"Then I"ll finish the ride!"
To the thrilled, throbbing spectators there did not come a thought of "accident."
Clearly this whole splendid scene had been only a glimpse of practical military training.
It had all been planned, of course, so the audience supposed, that the tree trunk should snap and that the other young sergeant should be there to perform the swift work of rescue.
Even at that it was a wonderful sight, and again the spectators were on their feet, cheering more hoa.r.s.ely than ever.
Yet hardly had they started to cheer when, some how, in a way they did not quite grasp, Sergeant Hal Overton had climbed up out of the gully, carrying his wheel with him.
Now he was mounted again! On the further side of the gully the young Army dispatch rider was racing forward again.
His wheel, somewhat damaged by the fall, was moving stiffly now, but Overton put into his pedaling every ounce of energy left to him.
In another moment he was out of sight, his dispatch-bearing ride ended, and the band leader stopped his musicians.
In this startling scene the onlookers felt that they had viewed the best piece of individual daring of the afternoon.
Little did they guess that they had seen the failure of a scoundrel"s dastardly attempt to end Sergeant Overton"s life.
But grizzled old Colonel North, of the Thirty-fourth United States Infantry, knew better.
"Cortland," he remarked, turning to B Company"s captain, "just as soon as the last number is over I want you to make an instant and red-hot investigation of that accident to Sergeant Overton. Report to me as soon as you have even the trace of a suggestion to make."