"
"Stop, Scott! You mustn't risk your life this way. I'll report you to
Captain Colton!"
But it was too late. John had climbed up the side of the trench, and,
standing in the deep snow, was feeling about for the one who groaned.
Guided by the sound his hands soon touched a human body.
The fallen man was lying on his side and he was already half buried in
the snow. John ran his hand along his arm and shoulder, and felt cold
thick blood, clotting his sleeve. But he was yet alive, because he
groaned again, and John believed from the quality of his voice that he
was very young. The hurt was in the shoulder and the loss of blood had
been great.
He knelt beside the wounded lad and spoke to him in English and French,
and in German that he had learned recently. A faint reply came; but it
was too low for him to understand. Then he knelt in the snow beside him
and was just barely able to see that he had a blond youth younger than
himself. Shots came from the German line as he knelt there, but they
were merely random bullets whistling through the snowy gloom. He was
made of tenacious material, and the danger from the flying bullets
merely confirmed him in his purpose. Moreover, he could not bear to
return, and listen to those groans so near him. He grasped the young
German under the shoulders and dragged him to the edge of the trench.
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