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.
Then he called softly: "Carstairs, Wharton! I've got him! Help me down!" Carstairs and Wharton appeared and Carstairs said: "Well, you light-headed Yankee, you have come back!" "Yes, and I've brought with me what I went after.

Help me down with him.
Easy there now! He's hit hard in the shoulder!" The two lifted him into the trench and John slid after him, just as a half-dozen random shots whistled over his head.