Perhaps those who followed him now were new ones and his former companions lay dead or wounded within their own lines.

What he thought of most of all was his extraordinary escape from the Boche sharpshooter and he wondered who and where his deliverer could be.
He avoided looking into the shell hole as he passed it and soon he reached the enemy entanglements which the tanks had flattened.

Even the flat meshes had been cleared from the road and here several regulars waited to help him.

They were covered with dirt and looked as if they had seen action.
"Bully for you, kid!" one of them said, slapping Tom on the shoulder.
"You're all right, Towhead!" "Lift the machine," said Tom; "they always put broken glass in the roads.

I thought maybe they'd punctured my tire out there." "They came near puncturing _you_, all right! What's your name ?" "Thatchy is mostly what I get called.