THE MYSTERIOUS FUGITIVE Suddenly the thing stopped, and its whole bulk was shaken very noticeably.

Then a head emerged from it and before Tom could realize what had happened a German soldier was fully revealed, brushing the leaves and dirt from his gray coat as he stole cautiously along the edge of the stream, peering anxiously about him and pausing now and again to listen.
He was already some distance from Tom, whom apparently he had not discovered, and his stealthy movements suggested that he was either in the act of escaping or was bent upon some secret business of importance.
Without a sound Tom slipped behind a tree and watched the man who paused like a startled animal at every few steps, watching and listening.
Tom knew that, notwithstanding his non-combatant status, he was quite justified in drawing his pistol upon this fleeing Boche, but before he had realized this the figure had gone too far to afford him much hope of success with the small weapon which he was not accustomed to.

Moreover, just because he _was_ a "non-com" he balked at using it.

If he should miss, he thought, the man might turn upon him and with a surer aim lay him low.
But there was one thing in which Tom Slade felt himself to be the equal of any German that lived, and that was stalking.

Here, in the deep woods, among these protecting trees, he felt at home, and the lure of scouting was upon him now.