Tom, not daring to stir, looked expectantly at Roscoe, whose rifle was aimed and resting across a convenient branch before him.

The sniper's intent profile was a study.

Tom wondered why he did not fire.
He saw one of the Boches approach the officer, who evidently would not deign to stoop, and kneel at the foot of the bush.

Then the crisp, echoing report of Roscoe's rifle rang out, and on the instant the officer and the remaining soldier disappeared behind the leaf-covered hogshead.

Tom was aware of the one German lying beside the bush, stark and motionless, and of Roscoe jerking his head and screwing up his mouth in a sort of spontaneous vexation.