The officer's eye swept the group as he returned the salute, and when it rested on Frank he drew up his horse so suddenly that the beast sat back on its haunches.

The officer threw himself from the horse's back, cast the reins to his orderly, and came impetuously toward the astonished Army boys with his hand extended to Frank.

"Monsieur Sheldon!" he exclaimed, his face beaming. "Mon brave Americain. Le sauveur de ma vie."

"Colonel Pavet!" cried Frank with equal pleasure, as he took the extended hand.

"Yes," replied the newcomer, "Colonel Pavet, alive and well, thanks to you. Ah, I shall never forget the night when I lay wounded on the battlefield and you climbed out of the trench and made your way through a storm of bullets and shells to my side and carried me back to safety. It was the deed of a hero, a modern d'Artagnan! How glad I am to see you again!"

"And I to see you" responded Frank warmly. "You were so dreadfully wounded that I feared you might not recover."

They were talking in French, which Frank spoke like a native, thanks to his French mother, and the other boys saluted and passed on, leaving the two together.

"If we had not met, I would have searched you out," went on the colonel, "for I have some news for you. News that both you and your mother will be glad to hear."

"My mother," repeated Frank, his eyes kindling and his heart responding, as it never failed to do at the mention of that dear mother of his, who in her lonely home across the sea was waiting and praying for him.



CHAPTER IX

THE ESCAPE

"Yes," replied Colonel Pavet, "your mother, Madame Sheldon,—it seems strange for me to name her thus, for I never think of her except as Lucie De Latour, as I knew her in her girlhood—has a very excellent prospect of coming into the property that was willed to her."

"I'm very glad to hear that!" exclaimed Frank. "And I know that my mother will be pleased too. I have told her in my letters about my meeting with you, and I gave her the remembrances that you were kind enough to send her. She was delighted to know that I had met one of her old neighbors in Auvergne, and she asked me to thank you most heartily for your kindness in promising to look after her interests."

The colonel smiled genially.

"She is too good," he responded. "The obligation is all on my side. My humble services would have been at her disposal in any event simply for the sake of old friendship. But how much more ought they to be wholly hers, now that her son has saved my life."

"I am afraid you put too much value on what I did, Colonel," said Frank deprecatingly.

"It was something that not one in ten thousand would have done," replied the colonel warmly. "When I found myself helpless and wounded on that field of death I thought my life was over, and I had commended my soul to God."

"I'm glad that you have lived to strike another blow for France," said Frank.

"Ah, for France!" repeated the colonel fervently, as he lifted his cap reverently.

"As I started to say," he resumed after a moment, "your mother's prospects for coming into her own are excellent. After my wound I was sent home, and for some time it was doubtful whether I would live or die. But God was good and I recovered. While I was gradually mending I had ample time to look into that matter of the contested will. And, fortunately, just at that time my brother Andre, who is one of the leading lawyers of Paris, came to the chateau to see and cheer me up while I was convalescing. I laid the whole matter before him, and he went into it thoroughly. He has gone over all the proceedings in the case, and he tells me that there is no doubt that your mother has the law as well as right—unfortunately they are not always the same thing— on her side. He says that the testimony of those who are contesting the will smacks strongly of perjury. It is too bad that your mother cannot be here, for then Andre thinks the whole thing could be straightened out at once."

"It is too bad," agreed Frank; "but in the present state of things, and the danger on the Atlantic from submarines, I would not want her to take the risk. But what you say delights me, as I am sure it will her, and I can't thank you enough for all the trouble you have taken."

"Not trouble, but pleasure," corrected the colonel. "And you can be assured that the matter will not be allowed to lag now that Andre has taken it up. When he starts a case he can be depended on to carry it through to a finish. I will keep in close touch with him and will let you know from time to time how the matter is progressing. But now tell me about yourself."

"There's not much to tell," replied Frank. "I'm well and have been lucky enough so far not to have stopped a bullet."

The colonel's eyes twinkled.

"Not much to tell," he repeated. "No, not if Monsieur Sheldon does the telling. But there are others who speak more freely. Your captain, for instance."

Frank flushed uncomfortably and Colonel Pavet laughed outright.

"Bravery and modesty usually go together," he went on. "How about that machine gun episode yesterday, when an American soldier cut down its crew, turned it on the enemy trench and compelled the men in it to surrender? How about the raiding party where five men accounted for fourteen of the Huns? You see, mon ami, that I have a good memory for details. Ah, you are blushing. I wonder if you, too, could recall these things if you tried."

"There were a lot of us in on them," parried Frank, "and one did as much as another."

"Well," rejoined the colonel, "I'm proud that a French woman is your mother. You have a glorious heritage in the traditions of two gallant countries. And I rejoice to see the way you Americans are throwing yourselves into the fighting. We were sorely pressed by the Hun hordes and were fighting with our backs against the wall."

"And such fighting!" returned Frank enthusiastically. "The world has never seen anything finer. The spirit of France is unconquerable."

"Yes," replied the colonel proudly. "As one of our great orators has said: 'If the men are all killed the women will rise up; if the women are killed the children will rise; if the children are killed the very dead will rise and fight—fight for France."

"But I must go on," he continued, motioning to his orderly to bring up his horse. "I have a long journey yet before I reach the headquarters of my division. I am more delighted than I can tell that I met you as I did. May we meet again soon."

"In Berlin, if not sooner," interjected Frank with a smile.

"Ah, that is it," said the colonel delightedly. "In Berlin! That is the way to speak. It may be a long time, but sooner or later the Stars and Stripes and the Tricolor will wave together Unter den Linden. May Heaven speed the day!"

The French officer wrung Frank's hand warmly, sprang into the saddle, and with Frank's "bon voyage" ringing in his ears, galloped rapidly away.

Twilight was coming on as Frank set out to rejoin his comrades, who were waiting for him at a little distance down the road. His heart was light, for he had news to write his mother that he knew would bring her pleasure.

"Some swell," chaffed Tom, as Frank came up to his friends. "Talking to a colonel as though he were a pal. I wonder that you condescend to talk to us common privates."

"It is a comedown," grinned Frank; "but I'll try to tolerate you for a while longer. But say, fellows, that colonel is a brick! Not a bit of side about him. And he's doing a lot for us in the matter of my mother's property that I've told you about."

"That's bully!" exclaimed Bart heartily.

"I'll forgive him," conceded Tom magnanimously, "even if he does talk in a lingo that I can't understand."

"Why, I thought you were a finished French scholar by this time," chaffed Bart.

"Do you remember the day Tom tried to ask for soup and got his tongue twisted around 'bouillon'?" gibed Billy, with a broad grin.

"Well, I got the soup anyway, didn't I?" defended Tom.

"Sure you got it," agreed Billy. "I could hear you getting it."

Tom made a pass at him that Billy ducked.

"Talking about soup makes me hungry," remarked Bart. "If you fellows stand talking here much longer we'll be late at chow."

"I'd like to have one more look at that hut Rabig's guarding," said Frank a little uneasily.

"We might stroll down this way again after supper if you like," suggested Billy, "but just at present a little knife and fork exercise seems the most pressing business I have to attend to."

Just then their talk was interrupted by a single shot, followed by a volley of them, and looking back in the direction from which they had come, they saw men running in the direction of the hut that Rabig had been guarding.

They turned and ran at full speed and were soon in the midst of an excited group gathered about the hut.

"What's up?" asked Frank of one of the soldiers.

"Prisoner escaped," replied the other briefly.

"What prisoner?"

"The fellow that Rabig was guarding. Some way or other he got out, managed to strike Rabig down and skipped. Poor Rabig's pretty badly messed up."

The boys looked at each other.

"Poor Rabig," repeated Tom, and there was a world of meaning in his tone.



CHAPTER X

A GHASTLY BURDEN

The sergeant of the guard came running up quickly, followed by two other officers of higher rank, and a hurried inquiry took place on the spot.

Rabig had been lifted to his feet from where he had been lying, and stood supported by two comrades. Blood was running down his face from a wound in his head. He seemed weak and dazed, although a surgeon who had been hastily summoned pronounced the wound not dangerous. He seemed to have been dealt a glancing blow, and, as in the case of all scalp wounds, the blood had flowed freely.

"Bring a seat for him," commanded the lieutenant in charge, and the order was promptly obeyed.

"Now, Rabig," proceeded the officer, not unkindly, "tell me about this. How did you come to lose your prisoner?"

Rabig looked about him in a helpless sort of way.

"I don't know," he mumbled. "My head is swimming so that I can't remember."

"Try to think," said the officer patiently. Rabig seemed to make an effort, but did not succeed and fell back in a swoon that put an end for the present to the questioning.

"Who saw anything of this?" queried the lieutenant, looking about him. "Does any one know in what direction the prisoner went?"

"If you please, sir," said one of the sentries who had been guarding an adjacent hut, "I saw a man jump on a horse and go through the woods there, but it was getting dark and I didn't know but what it might be one of our own men. But I ran up here and found Rabig lying on the ground, and the door of the hut was open. I sent a shot after the man on horseback and so did some of the other men, but we couldn't take aim and I don't know whether we hit him or not."

"Look alive there," commanded the officer. "Sergeant, take a squad of men and beat up these woods. The fellow may be hiding there. Take him dead or alive."

"Yes, sir," replied the sergeant, saluting.

The soldiers standing by were hastily sent into the woods and others were summoned to join them. The prisoner had got a good start, but by this time the field telephones were busy all along the line and his chance of ultimate escape was by no means bright. But he was a powerful and desperate man, and if he had any weapons at all he would probably make his capture a costly one.

"He'll reason that he's a dead man if we get him and he might as well die fighting," remarked Frank, as with his comrades he picked his way through the woods.

"Righto," agreed Tom. "And even if he didn't have a weapon when he escaped, there are lots of them lying around and he won't have any trouble in picking one up."

"I wonder if he'll stick to the horse," mused Bart.

"I hardly think so," replied Billy. "He knows from the shots that were sent after him that we know he used a horse in escaping and will be looking for a man on horseback. So he'll try to deceive us by going on foot."

"He'll probably hang about in the woods until it's pitch dark and then try to get through the lines," said Frank. "He may be behind any tree or bush, and we want to be mighty careful to examine each one as we go past it."

"Maybe he'll climb a tree," suggested Tom, looking up to the branches of one he happened to be under at the moment.

"Not a chance at this time of the year," objected Billy. "There aren't any leaves to hide him, and even in the darkness we could probably see his outline against the sky. Then, too, if he were seen he could be potted too easily. No, he's not up a tree."

"Queer that he should have got away so soon after we'd been down to the hut," remarked Frank.

"Queer!" snorted Tom. "It isn't queer at all to my way of thinking. The whole thing was cut and dried."

"Then you think that Rabig was in cahoots with him?" asked Bart dubiously.

"I'm sure of it," responded Tom. "Use your common sense, fellows. We see half a dozen suspicious things that look as if Rabig and the prisoner had some understanding. A little while after the prisoner escapes. What's the answer?"

"The answer might be several things," replied Frank, who hated to believe evil of even his worst enemy. "A lot of things are due to coincidence. It may be perfectly true that Rabig was in sympathy with the German, but that doesn't say that he'd go so far as to let him actually escape. He was taking big chances with his own skin in doing it."

"Besides, there's no doubt that Rabig was wounded," remarked Bart. "That fellow seems to have given him an awful knock. He was bleeding like fury."

"Oh, it was easy enough to arrange that," answered Tom, unconvinced. "It would have been too raw to have Rabig let the fellow go and still be safe and sound. How could he explain it? He'd be brought up for court-martial. But a scalp wound could be easily made where it would produce the most blood and do the least harm."

"But what object would Rabig have in taking such chances?" asked Billy. "The fellow had been searched and couldn't have had any money with him."

"No, but he could have promised plenty," argued Tom. "Perhaps he's told Rabig that the grateful Kaiser would make him rich. How do we know that Rabig wouldn't fall for that? He's got an ivory dome anyway. If there were more than two ideas in his head at one time they'd be arrested for unlawful assemblage."

The boys laughed and Tom went on:

"Besides, how do we know but what Rabig is planning to desert and wants to pave the way for a warm welcome on the other side? It would be easy enough to slip across while the lines are so near each other."

"But Rabig seemed to be pretty badly hurt," said Billy. "You saw him faint."

"Which only proves that he is a good actor," retorted Tom dryly. "Don't think me hardhearted, fellows, because I'm not. I'm always ready to give everybody his due. But I feel sure down in my heart that this thing was all fixed up beforehand, and some day you'll find that I'm right."

For more than two hours they kept up the search without result, and the fact that they had not had their supper was forced upon them with growing insistency.

"Isn't there any time limit to this?" grumbled Bart. "I'll be hunting for acorns instead of a prisoner before long."

"I've got a vacuum where my stomach ought to be," moaned Billy. "Gee, wouldn't I like to be streaking it for the mess room."

"Cork up, you fellows," commanded Frank. "Listen! I thought I heard something just then."

The talking ceased instantly, and all stood as rigid as statues.

"It's a horse coming this way," whispered Frank, after a moment of strained attention. "Quick, fellows, get behind these bushes and have your rifles ready!"

They crouched low and peered up a little glade that ran through the forest.

But the noise ceased as suddenly as it had begun and they began to think that their comrade had been mistaken.

"Guess Frank's been stringing us," chaffed Billy.

"He's the only one who seems to have heard anything," said Tom.

"Don't you worry about my hearing," said Frank. "I tell you I heard a horse's hoofs. Perhaps the rider suspects something and is trying to get a line on us, just as we're trying to get one on him."

"It may have been a horse all right," said Billy, "but that doesn't say he had any rider. He may be rambling around all by his lonesome, and perhaps he's stopped to graze somewhere."

"There he goes again!" exclaimed Frank, and this time every one of them heard what was undeniably the thud of a horse's hoofs.

But there was a hesitation, an uncertainty about the animal's movements that seemed unusual. It moved as though it had no purpose in view no guiding hand on the reins. At times the canter seemed to subside into a walk. There was something about this unseen steed, at large in the dim forest, that gave the boys a most uncomfortable feeling.

Then suddenly a more resolute note in the sound and an increase in its volume told the listening boys that the horse was coming straight toward them.

The clatter of hoofs drew nearer, and they clutched their guns more tightly.

Soon they were able to distinguish in the gloom the outline of a horse and rider. The man's figure loomed up huge and threatening, and they felt sure that it was the big German corporal for whom they were searching.

The boys waited until the horse was almost upon them and then rushed out into the road.

"Halt!" cried Frank. He seized the horse's rein while the others leveled their rifles at the rider.

The horse reared in fright, but the rider made no answer nor did he attempt to draw a weapon.

"Get down!" commanded Frank. "We've got you covered. Surrender."

Still the rider remained silent.

Frank having quieted the horse went alongside and put his hand on the man's arm.

"Come——" he began, then stopped suddenly.

There was a moment of utter silence, and Frank for the first time in his life could feel the hair rising on his head. Then he controlled himself.

"Put up your rifles boys," he commanded. "The man is dead!"



CHAPTER XI

WITH THE TANKS

"Dead!" exclaimed Frank's comrades in voices that shook with surprise and horror.

"That's what I said," replied Frank. "Touch him and see for yourselves."

All did so and found that the body was rigid. How long the horse had borne his lifeless burden they could not tell. The legs were set stiffly in the stirrups and the hands had a death grip on the reins.

The boys had seen death in many forms. Scarcely a day had passed since their arrival at the front without that sad experience. But it had never seemed so ghastly or uncanny as at this moment. That silent, colossal figure, seated bolt upright, worked fearfully on their imaginations and seemed far more formidable than any living enemy would have seemed.

"One of those bullets that the sentries sent after him must have reached him," said Bart in an awed voice.

"I suppose so," replied Frank. "But it doesn't matter now. Our search is over."

"What are we going to do with the body?" asked Billy soberly.

"I guess we can't do anything just now," replied Frank. "I don't think we could get those reins out of his hands anyway, and I for one don't want to try. Besides, this is the proof for the officers that the prisoner hasn't escaped. They're anxious, because they don't know what information he might have been carrying back to the German lines. The only thing to do is for one of us to lead the horse—with its rider— back to camp."

This seemed to the others the solution of the problem, although the task was a gruesome one and they would have gladly evaded it if they could. It made chills run down the spine to trudge along leading the horse with that huge figure towering behind them in the darkness, mocking at them because he had escaped to the silent land from which they could never bring him back.

But there was comfort in numbers, and what no one of them could perhaps have done singly they finally accomplished by taking turns, keeping close together all the while as the ghostly cavalcade wound its way through the woods.

It was with a sigh of heartfelt relief that they finally drew up before the friendly lights of the regimental headquarters that had never before seemed so welcome.

Their coming caused a great sensation, and there was soon a dense crowd around them, for the uncanny circumstances of their return spread through the camp like wildfire. The reins were cut from the dead hands and the body lifted to the ground. Then after making a full report the boys went to their quarters. They were besieged with inquiries by curious comrades, but they shook them off as soon as possible. Their experience had been one that they were only too anxious to forget.

"I don't think I want any supper, after all," remarked Tom to his friends.

"Same here," responded Bart. "I don't feel as though I'd ever be hungry again."

"All I want to do is to get to sleep and forget it," said Billy. "That is, if I can get to sleep."

"You'll sleep all right," observed Frank, "but I wouldn't guarantee you against nightmare."

But harrowed as their nerves had been, they were too young and healthy to stand out against the sleep they needed, and when they woke the next morning both their spirits and their appetites were as good as usual. Life at the front was too full of work and rush for any one experience to leave its imprint long.

Their first inquiry after breakfast was for Rabig.

"How's Rabig getting along?" Frank asked of Fred Anderson.

"Oh, he's all right, I guess," answered Fred carelessly. "When the doctors came to examine him they found that the wound didn't amount to much. Said he'd be all right in a day or two."

"Is he under arrest?" asked Tom.

"Why, yes, I suppose he is," answered Fred. "But I guess it's a mere form. The fact that the prisoner didn't finally get away will count in his favor. It's like baseball. An error is an error, but if the man who ought to be out at first gets put out when he tries to steal second the error is harmless. It's no credit to Rabig that a bullet got the man he let escape, but it's lucky for him just the same."

It was evident that Anderson had no suspicion that Rabig had been guilty of anything but carelessness, and the boys carefully refrained from saying anything about what they had gathered from their observation the day before. But when they were alone together they had no hesitation about speaking their minds.

"Some fellows could commit murder and get away with it," grumbled Tom.

"Cheer up, you old grouch," chaffed Billy. "At any rate the prisoner didn't escape, and so there's no harm done."

"And if Rabig is guilty he's got nothing from it but a sore head," put in Bart.

"I don't feel dead sure that Rabig helped him," said Frank, "and yet the more I think it over, the more I'm inclined to think that Tom is right about it. Still, Rabig's entitled to the benefit of the doubt. I know how the Scotch jury felt when they brought in the verdict: 'Not guilty, but don't do it again.'"

"That's just what I'm afraid Rabig will do," said Tom. "This time luckily it didn't matter. The prisoner didn't escape. But if Rabig is a traitor, how do we know but what the next time he might do something that might cause a defeat?"

"It does make one uneasy," agreed Bart. "Nick in the regiment is like a splinter in the finger. It makes you sore. But we'll keep our eyes open and the very next crooked move he makes it will be curtains for him."

"Or taps," added Billy.

The fighting now had lost the first intensity that had signalized the day of the mine explosion. The Germans had been strongly reinforced, and had held their third line, which had now become their first.

"And they've got plenty of other lines behind that one," commented Tom, as he sat on a trench step cleaning and oiling his rifle.

"Slathers of them," assented Billy. "I suppose they stretch all the way back to the Rhine."

"It will be some job to root them out of them if we have to storm each one of them in turn," remarked Bart.

"We don't have to count on that," said Frank confidently. "The Allies gained twenty-five miles at a clip when they drove Hindenburg back from the Somme. The Huns may stand out a long while, but when the time comes they may collapse all at once like the deacon's 'one-hoss shay.'"

The Americans in the meantime had thoroughly reorganized the captured positions and had held them against a number of strong counter-attacks. But these became fewer as they failed to produce results, and although the artillery still kept on growling and barking, the wearied infantry had a chance to get some of the rest they so sorely needed after their herculean efforts.

"Nothing to do till to-morrow," yawned Billy, as after performing their turn of trench duty they found themselves with an hour or two on their hands.

"Let's take a little hike back of the lines and see what's doing," suggested Bart.

"I think there's something in the wind connected with the tanks," remarked Frank. "They say there's a bunch of them coming up from all parts of the front and getting together just back of our division."

"They're hot playthings, all right," commented Tom. "They certainly keep the Huns on the jump. If we only had enough of them we might roll right into Berlin."

They passed some of the field batteries where the men, stripped to the waist, were serving the guns, running the shells in and discharging their weapons with marvelous smoothness, speed and precision.

"This is the life," chaffed Tom. "You fellows have a picnic here away back of the lines, while we chaps in the front line do all the work and stop all the bullets."

"G'wan, you doughboys," retorted a gunner good-naturedly. "If we're alive here after eight days, the orders are to shoot us for loafing."

A little further on, they came upon a myriad of tanks of all descriptions. There were "baby" tanks, "whippets," "male" and "female," all with different functions to perform during a battle. Just as in the navy there are vessels of all sizes from a light scout to a super-dreadnought, so already this arm of the service was developing various grades, each to do some special work for which the others were not so well adapted.

"See how they're hidden," said Frank, as he pointed to a very forest of bushes and branches that extended above the array of tanks.

"That's to keep the Boche aviators guessing," observed Bart. "They'd give their eyes if they could only spy out where these fellows are being massed."

"I heard one of the fellows say that the tanks travel only at night so that the Boches can't track them," said Tom.

"And see what a raft of them have been got together here," said Billy. "I tell you, fellows, there's something big going to be pulled off before long."

"Say, boys, see who's here!" exclaimed Frank, and they turned to see Will Stone coming toward them with a broad smile of welcome on his bronzed face.



CHAPTER XII

BREAKING THROUGH

There was a rush toward Will Stone, and in a moment the Army boys were shaking hands with a vigor that showed the pleasure they felt at again meeting their acquaintance, who belonged to the tank division.

"Say, fellows, have a heart," Will grinned. "I need these hands in my business. But it sure does me good to see you again. And all of you alive and kicking! I'll bet that's more than some of the Huns are that you've run up against."

"Oh, we're still able to sit up and take nourishment," laughed Frank. "But tell us about yourself, old man. You look like ready money."

"I see you have a marking different from what you had when we saw you last," remarked Bart, looking at the insignia that proclaimed Will an officer.

"And look at that war cross!" cried Tom. "I guess you've been some busy little bee to get that. Shake again, old scout."

Stone flushed and looked a little embarrassed.

"Only a few little skirmishes here and there," he said deprecatingly. "But the real big thing is yet to come. Look at this army of tanks. We've never had so many in one place since the war began."

"Looks like a herd of elephants," commented Frank, as his eye ran along the array that seemed to number hundreds. "They'll do more trampling than any herd of elephants that ever trod the earth," remarked Stone grimly. "But come along, fellows, and let me show you my own particular pet. It's the biggest one of the bunch, and it's a peach! We call it Jumbo, and it carries a crew of twenty men."

They followed him till they came to a monster tank on which Stone placed his hand caressingly.

"Isn't it a beauty?" he asked, as he beamed upon them.

"I should call it a holy terror," grinned Frank.

"What the Huns will call it won't be fit for publication," laughed Billy.

"I guess they've already exhausted the German vocabulary," chuckled Stone. "But just wait until this beauty of mine goes climbing over their trenches and smashing their pill boxes and tearing away their entanglements. Then they'll know what they're up against."

"I only wish we could see you while you're doing it," remarked Tom.

"Likely enough you will," replied Stone. "From things I've picked up here and there I think the infantry will be right alongside of us in the next big jamboree. Don't you fellows make any mistake about it, there's going to be one of the biggest stunts of the war pulled off in the course of the next few days. Mithridates with his elephants won't be a circumstance to us with our tanks. There sure is bound to be some lovely fighting."

"Let it come!" exclaimed Tom.

"And come quickly," chimed in Frank.

"The only thing I'm sorry for is that you're in the Canadian contingent," said Bart. "I want to see you leading the way in a U. S. A. tank."

"You may yet," replied Stone. "Uncle Sam will soon be sending over his tanks, and you bet when they do come they'll be lallapaloozers with all the modern improvements, and then some! And the minute that happens I'm going to apply to be transferred to the United States army. These Canadians are among the finest men in the world and they're doing magnificent fighting, but still I'll feel more natural when I'm fighting under the Stars and Stripes."

"Well, that won't be long now," replied Frank. "Our men and our guns and our tanks and everything else we need to lick the Kaiser will be coming in droves pretty soon. And then watch our smoke."

"Right you are," agreed Stone enthusiastically.

Then as a trumpet rang out he added: "That's the signal for a rehearsal, fellows, and I'll have to get on the job. We're going to put our machines through their paces. I'm mighty glad to have seen you again, and I wish you no end of luck."

"Come over to our line when you get a chance and see the way our boys are shaping up," was Frank's invitation, which was echoed heartily by the others.

"You bet I will," responded Stone, as with a wave of his hand he went to his work, while the boys strolled back to their quarters.

"He's the real stuff," commented Frank. "All wool and a yard wide."

"He'd rather fight than eat," observed Tom.

"If the Canadians take him as a sample, no wonder they're glad to see Uncle Sam mix in," remarked Billy.

Some days went by, days of steady rush and preparation. It was evident that some big operation was near at hand. Troops were moved up from other portions of the long line that stretched from Switzerland to the sea. There were the bronzed Tommies in khaki, the snappy, dashing poilus in their uniforms of corn-flower blue, veterans hardened in a score of battles from Ypres to Verdun. And right alongside of them in closest comradeship and gallant rivalry were the stalwart sons of the United States of America, the very flower of her youth, who had already had their baptism of fire and who had sworn to themselves that no flag should be further in the van than Old Glory when it came to the stern test of battle.

Nearer and nearer the tanks had crept to the front of the line and taken up their places in front of great openings that had been made in the wire entanglements and skilfully concealed from the enemy.

A certain number of them were assigned to lead each regiment, and the Camport boys' delight was great when they saw that Jumbo, with a squad of assisting tanks, had been told off to lead their regiment.

"Just what the doctor ordered," exulted Frank, when he saw Stone step out of the door of the monster tank.

"We'll follow you, old man, till the cows come home," called Bart, as the boys crowded around the young operator.

"We'll try to make a broad path for you," laughed Stone, as he returned their greeting cordially.

"When is the show coming off?" asked Billy.

"Almost any time now, I guess," replied Stone. "About all we need is a nice misty morning. It's up to the weather sharps to tip us off. Then we'll amble over and give the Huns a little shaking up."

Several days passed with the weather exasperatingly clear. Usually the soldiers would have welcomed the bright sunny mornings. But now, when they were keyed up to a high pitch, the one thing they longed for was a dull and lowering sky that would favor the great enterprise they had on hand.

"You might think the boys were a lot of grangers after a dry spell, from the way they're praying for rain," remarked Billy, as for the hundredth time he scanned the sky.

"Remember how different it used to be when we had a baseball game on hand?" laughed Frank. "Then a gleam of sunshine was like money from home after you'd been broke for a week."

"That cloud a little while ago looked as though it might have had thunder and lightning behind it," observed Bart, "but it was only a false alarm."

"Nothing but wind, like a German bulletin," grinned Billy, stretching himself.

"Or their U-boat prophecies," added Frank. "But cheer up, fellows, this sunshine can't last forever."

There came at last just the kind of weather wanted. A soft drizzle set in at nightfall, not enough to make the ground muddy, but enough to make the steaming and saturated air lie heavy on the earth. Everything indicated that there would be a fog at dawn.

"I guess to-morrow's the big day," remarked Frank, as he looked out at the settling mists.

"High time," grumbled Tom. "I'd grow stale if we had to wait much longer."

The regiments slept on their arms that night, and an hour before dawn all were astir and in their places. There was no special artillery fire, such as usually preceded big attacks. It was given to the tanks to level the entanglements of the enemy and open up the gaps for the troops to swarm through.

The hour dragged by until within ten minutes of the time appointed for the assault. Then a monotonous hum filled the air as the motors of the tanks tuned up. Down through the black lines of waiting soldiers the gray monsters slowly made their way, passed through the gaps made in the defences and led the way into the desolate stretch of No Man's Land.

Even to the friendly eyes that watched them there was something weird and frightful in their aspect. It was as though the huge brutes of the prehistoric world had taken form before them. Even those monsters had never carried within them such death-dealing power.

As the sea closes in the wake of a ship, the troops fell in behind the tanks, and the silent procession took up the march toward the German lines.

Hardly a sound beyond the labored breathing of the tanks broke the stillness. It might have been an army of ghosts.

On they went, and with every step the conviction grew that the surprise would be complete. No thunder broke from the enemy guns. No fiery barrage swept the dense ranks, exacting its toll of wounds and death. For once the Hun was asleep.

Nearer and nearer. Then like so many thunderbolts at a hundred different points they struck the German lines and the tanks went through!



CHAPTER XIII

CAUGHT NAPPING

Nothing could stand before the terrific impact of the war tanks.

There was a grinding, tearing, screeching sound, as wire entanglements were uprooted. These had been strengthened in every way that German cunning could invent, but they bent like straws beneath the onslaught of the gray monsters. A cyclone could not have done the work more thoroughly.

There was no need now for further secrecy, and with a wild yell the Allied troops swarmed through the gaps, sending a deadly volley before them, supplemented by thousands of grenades.

At the same instant, the Allied artillery opened up and laid a heavy barrage fire over the heads of the onrushing troops.

The blow came down on the Germans with crushing force. The surprise was complete. Every detail of the great drive had been mapped out with the precision of clockwork, and so nicely had it been timed that on every part of the long line the shock came like a thunderbolt.

A horde of Germans rushed up from the trenches and poured in a great stream into the open. The earth seemed to disgorge itself. They came shouting and yelling in wild consternation, their eyes heavy with sleep and their faces pallid with fear.

Fear not so much of the Allied troops rushing upon them. These they had faced in many battles, and though they knew the mettle of their foes, they were still men who could be faced on even terms. But their courage gave way when through the spectral mists they saw the wallowing monsters bearing down on them like so many Juggernauts, crushing, tearing, mowing them down as though they were insects in the path of giants.

The men fled helter-skelter in the wildest panic that had come upon them since the outbreak of the war. In vain their officers shouted and cursed at them. The iron bonds of discipline snapped like threads. Soldiers rushed hither and thither like ants whose hill had been demolished by a ruthless foot.

Many fled back toward their second line, pursued by a withering blast of rifle fire that reaped a terrible harvest of wounds and death. Others rushed back into their trenches, crowding and treading upon one another. But even here they were not safe from the great tanks, which lumbered down into the trenches and up on the other side, leaving devastation in their wake, spitting out flame from the guns they carried, while they themselves in their iron armor went on uninjured.

Not only were they frightful engines of offense, but they served as well for defense of the troops that followed after them.

For the first few minutes the slaughter was awful, and it looked as though the whole German line would be forced to give way without putting up any resistance worthy of the name. Prisoners were rounded up by the hundreds. There was no time then to send them to the rear. So they were gathered together in the open spaces, their suspenders were cut so that their trousers would slip down and entangle their legs if they tried to escape in the confusion, a small guard was put over them, and the tanks and the troops went thundering on toward the second line.

But here the resistance began to stiffen. The first paralysis of surprise was past. The heavy guns of the enemy opened up, and from scores of machine gun nests and pill boxes came a storm of bullets. The German officers had got their troops under some semblance of control, and heavy reinforcements were rushed up from the rear. From now on the Allies had an awakened and powerful foe to reckon with.

But despite the sterner opposition, the tanks were not to be denied. On they went, as resistless as fate. Their sides were reddened now, and the wake they left behind them was fearful to look upon.

Through the second line entanglements they crashed as easily as through the first, although this time they met with losses. Some had overturned and others had been struck by heavy shells and put out of action. But even though disabled, the guns on one side or the other were still able to pour out their messengers of death and take savage toll of the enemy.

Jumbo was leading, and close behind followed the boys of the old Thirty-seventh, with Frank and his chums in the van. They were fighting like young Vikings, their rifles empty but their bayonets and hand grenades doing deadly work. Their arms were tired by their terrific efforts, but their hearts were on fire. They felt as though they were treading on air, and the blood ran through their veins like quicksilver. Bunker Hill and Gettysburg spoke through them. The traditions of a hundred glorious battlefields on which Americans had fought was theirs. Now again Americans were fighting, fighting to avenge the murdered women and babies of the Lusitania, fighting to crush the most barbarous tyranny the modern world has known, fighting the battle of freedom and civilization.

So they fought on like demons, smashing a pill box here, routing out a machine gun nest there, until the second line was carried. Then the conquerors paused for breath.

On the whole German front in that region two lines deep the line had been smashed. That crowded hour of stark fighting had cracked the boasted invincible line of Hindenburg and sent the foe flying in confusion toward their third and most formidable line. Thousands of prisoners and scores of guns were among the spoils of victory.

And the most gratifying feature of the drive was the insignificant loss to the Allied forces. The resistance at first had been only slight, and even in the second phase of the battle it had been so quickly overcome that few of the attacking troops had fallen. Seldom had so great an advance been made at so small a price.

But modern warfare has its limits in the matter of time and speed. The very swiftness with which they had advanced had in itself an element of danger because it had brought them too far ahead of their supporting guns. These had to be brought up from the rear, and the captured positions had to be reorganized. The troops, too, had to be given a breathing spell, for they had reached the limit of human endurance.

So a halt was called, and the wearied men took turns in resting and refreshing themselves for the hard work that still lay ahead of them.

"A mighty good morning's work," panted Frank, as he threw himself down at the roots of a giant tree which had been utterly stripped of branches and even of bark by the tempest of fire that had raged around it.

"Ask a German and see if he'd agree with you," said Billy with a grin.

"We've got plenty to ask," said Tom, as his eyes roved over the throng of prisoners. "We sure have taken a raft of them this morning. And there's a still bigger bunch that will never answer roll call again."

There was food in plenty, but they did not have to avail themselves of the rations they carried in their kits. There were the camp kitchens of the enemy that in a twinkling were set to work, and soon the savory odors of steaming stews and fragrant coffee filled the smoke-laden air and brought joy to the hearts of the victors.

Frank, Bart, Billy and Tom were lucky enough to stumble on a meal that had already been started for some German officers, and they were surprised to find it so good and abundant.

"The Germans may be starving, but there's no sign of it here," remarked Frank, as he threw himself down on the ground with a sigh of relief.

"Trust the Huns to look after their soldiers, even if the civilians starve," replied Bart. "The people don't count in Germany. Only the military are taken seriously. They take the middle of the sidewalk and others are crowded to the wall."

"Well, I'm not quarreling with them just now on that account," grinned Billy. "I'm just glad there's plenty of grub here this morning."

"I'm not very partial to German cooking as a rule," chuckled Tom, "but this stew certainly smells good. How the Boche officers would grit their teeth if they saw us wading into this."

But his rejoicing was premature, for just at this moment a cannon shot from the German lines tore its way through the kettle and the scalding broth was spattered all over the group that were lying about. Luckily it did no other damage, but the chagrin of the boys was comical to see.

"I'd like to have hold of the gunner that fired that shot," sputtered Tom wrathfully, as he wiped from his face some of the stew that had fallen to his share.

"You ought to have knocked wood when you talked of the German officers seeing us wading into their chow," growled Bart. "There's a perfectly good stew gone to the dogs."

"Nothing personal in that, I hope," laughed Frank, "because most of it came to us."

"I like mine inside," put in Billy, as he gingerly removed a piece of meat from his ear. "As an outside decoration I'm dead against stew."

"Well, cheer up, fellows," remarked Frank. "The stew's past praying for, but there's a lot of other things. And anyway we ought to be mighty thankful that the shot didn't remove some of us from the landscape as well as the kettle."

"What's the big noise about?" asked a cheery voice, and they looked up to see Will Stone regarding them with a quizzical grin.



CHAPTER XIV

IN CLOSE QUARTERS

The four Camport boys greeted Stone joyfully and gladly made room for him.

"It's another German atrocity," grinned Billy. "They were sore at us for swiping their grub and they sent our kettle to smithereens."

"I'm glad they don't know about it anyway," said Tom. "I don't want any Boche to have the laugh on me."

"I guess they're not doing much laughing this morning," remarked Will Stone, as he dropped down on the ground beside them. "Or if they are, it's on the wrong side of their mouths."

"We've certainly waxed them good and plenty," said Bart enthusiastically.

"Jumbo was all to the good this morning," exulted Frank. "It did my heart good to see the way he ploughed along. There was nothing to it after he got started."

"He certainly scattered the Huns good and plenty," chortled Billy. "They ran like hares."

"He does for 'em all right," agreed Stone, glad to have his pride in his giant pet justified. "And the best of it is that, although the bullets came against his hide like hail on a tin roof, he came through practically without a scratch. He sure is a tough old fellow."

"The tanks are wonders," chimed in Tom. "They've won this fight. It was scrumptious the way they tore those entanglements up by the roots. Without 'em we'd have lost ten times as many men as we did."

"So far we've gotten off pretty easily," agreed Stone, "but the hardest part of the fighting is coming. The Boches have got their second wind by this time, and there can't be any more surprises. You fellows would better fill up now, for you'll have to have plenty to stand up on."

"Trust us," laughed Billy. "We may be slow in some things, but when it comes to filling up, we're some pumpkins. But I certainly do feel sore about that stew."

"Billy'll never get over that," laughed Bart. "He had his mouth all fixed for it. No other stew in all his life will ever taste so good to him as this one that he didn't get."

"It's always the biggest fish that gets away," laughed Stone, as he fell to with the rest.

While they were eating, there was a thunder of hoofs along the road. This had been such an unusual occurrence up to date that they sprang to their feet with eager interest.

Then the cavalry swept by.

Fine fellows the cavalrymen were on splendid mounts, which they bestrode as though they had never done anything else in all their lives. For months past they had chafed under restraint, for since the struggle had settled down to trench warfare they had seldom seen service except on foot. But now their turn had come, for with the broken line of the enemy had come a call for the cavalry to pursue and complete the demoralization of the foe.

"Some class to that bunch," remarked Tom, as he watched the flying column with an appraising eye.

"A little faster than your tanks, old scout?" remarked Bart, giving Stone a nudge in the ribs.

"They sure are," admitted Stone. "But don't forget that though we may be slow we get there just the same."

After a brief resting spell the lines were reformed and the fighting was resumed. The space between the second and the third lines was a wide one, and the country was hilly, with numerous lanes and ravines. These were being held in greater or less force by enemy troops posted in advantageous positions supported by machine guns, while beyond them their big guns kept up a heavy fire to prevent the Allied advance.

To clean these up and get ready for an attack upon the third line was a work of hours, as every foot of advance was bitterly contested by the Germans, who had now recovered from their surprise and fought desperately to stem the tide that had overwhelmed their first position.

There were two or three villages in the fighting zone and one town of considerable size. Not that it was a town now in any real sense of the word. What had once been houses were now mere pitiful heaps of wood and stone and mortar, and their inhabitants had long since been dispossessed or slain. It stood gaunt and desolate and forbidding in its mute protest against the pitiless storm of war to which it had fallen a victim.

In cleaning out a particularly obnoxious nest of machine gun positions Frank and his friends had been kept busy until nearly noon. But at last the guns were silenced and the crews wiped out or captured.

The boys started to regain their main force, but the country was unfamiliar and they took a turning in the road which led toward the German lines instead of toward their own.

"Gee!" remarked Tom as they trudged along, "maybe I'm not tired. My feet feel as though they weighed a ton."

"Perhaps they do," gibed Billy unfeelingly. "Considering the size of them, I should say a ton was just about right."

"I notice your hoofs are not so small," retorted Tom. "But how much longer is this hike going to take?"

"Search me," responded Frank. "To tell the truth, I'm twisted up about the direction. Seems to me we ought to strike some of our troops soon."

"It would be funny if we walked straight into the German lines," observed Billy.

"Funny!" snorted Tom. "Yes, as funny as a funeral. Some people have a queer sense of humor."

They were passing a hedge that walled off an orchard from the road when Frank, who was ahead, saw before him a great wave of gray uniforms coming around a bend in the road.

"Quick, fellows," he whispered. "Over the hedge and down on the ground."

Like a flash the boys were out of sight, and not one instant too soon, for a moment later they could see through the hedge what seemed to be an endless line of gray uniforms going past at the double quick. They were evidently hurrying forward to reinforce their hard-pressed comrades farther down the road.

The boys lay still as death until the troops had passed, and then looked at each other ruefully.

"We're cut off," ejaculated Frank. "Those fellows are between us and our line."

"Looks pretty bad," said Bart.

"This is a pretty kettle of fish," grumbled Tom. "Let's cut across the orchard and see if we can find some of our boys."

They acted on the suggestion, but found to their dismay that the Germans were everywhere. In whatever direction they looked the only uniforms they saw were the detested field gray. The Germans had rallied and the boys had been caught in the swirl of the returning tide.

"We'll have to hide somewhere until our men drive back the Huns and get as far as this orchard," said Billy.

"We're up against it for fair," growled Tom disconsolately.

"It's easy enough to talk of hiding, but where shall we hide?" asked Bart. "If we stay here above ground we're bound to be spotted before long."

"Let's make our way toward the town," suggested Frank. "There wasn't a soul in sight there a few minutes ago. It seemed to be wholly deserted. There must be plenty of hiding places in those heaps of stones, or perhaps we can stow ourselves away in a cellar. Let's get a hustle on, too, or we'll know sooner than we want to what a prison camp looks like."

As quickly as they dared they crept along, using every bit of cover that offered itself until they reached the outskirts of what had been the town. As Frank had said, it appeared to be wholly deserted at the moment. It was clear that all available forces had been summoned away to stem the great drive.

Having satisfied themselves that there was no one about they moved cautiously from one street to another seeking some place of refuge. The prospect was not hopeful, for there was scarcely a room in a single house that was not gaping wide open. Doors were gone and windows had vanished. There was hardly a place where anything as large as a cat could be free from detection.

"A mighty slim outlook," grumbled Tom, as they crouched close to a pile of masonry near the corner of a street.

"Stop grouching," counseled Frank. "We may stumble across something at any minute."

"Stumble is right," said Bart, as he rubbed a barked shin. "I've been doing nothing else since we got in among these rock piles."

"That house over the way there seems in a little better condition than the rest of these heaps," suggested Billy, pointing a little way down the street.

"We'll try our luck there," said Frank, and again their cautious journey was resumed.

They reached the place and squeezed themselves in through a narrow opening on a side that had faced a tiny yard bordered by a wall about eight feet in height.

There had been three rooms on the ground floor of the house, but all three had been knocked into one by the visitation of shells. The boys picked their way over the uneven masses of plaster, and Frank gave an exclamation as he perceived an opening that seemed to lead down into a cellar.

"This way, fellows," he said as he looked down into the darkness. "I don't see any stairs here but we can take a chance and drop. It doesn't seem very deep. One of you hold this gun of mine and I'll go first."

There was a chance of spraining an ankle if nothing worse, but luckily he landed safely.

"All serene," he called up in a low tone. "Hand me down your guns and then come along."

They did so, and the four found themselves in a cluttered cellar that by feeling around with their hands they found to be about thirty feet long by twenty in width. There was a furnace which had been broken into a pile of junk and a little light filtering down showed where a pipe had formerly gone through to the upper floor. There were a number of barrels in one corner, but apart from these the cellar seemed to hold nothing but rubbish.

"It's as dark as Egypt down here," grumbled Tom.

"So much the better," replied Bart. "There'll be that much less chance of a Heinie seeing us if he takes the trouble to look down here."

"So this is where we've got to hang out until our boys get here," remarked Billy, grinning. "It reminds me of the Waldorf-Astoria—it's so different."

"Never mind," said Frank cheerfully, "it's a thousand per cent. better than a Hun prison camp, and don't you forget it!"

"You said a mouthful that time," replied the irrepressible Billy, with more force than elegance.



CHAPTER XV

THE FOUR-FOOTED ENEMY

"The first thing to do is to make a barricade of these barrels," said Frank, when the four privates had made an inventory of what the cellar afforded in the way of defense.

"They will help us in putting up a fight if the Huns discover us here," agreed Bart.

"Let's see if there's anything in them," suggested Billy.

"Swell chance," commented Tom. "They smell as if they'd had wine or beer in them, and you can trust the Heinies to have drained them to the last drop. Not that I want any of the stuff, but if they were full they'd stop a bullet better than if they were empty."

They tested the barrels by knocking against them with the butts of their rifles and the hollow sound they gave back proved that Tom had conjectured truly.

"Dry as the Desert of Sahara," pronounced Frank.

"And that reminds me," said Bart. "What are we going to do for water to drink? We've got grub enough in our kits to last us a couple of days in a pinch. But we can't hold out long without something to wash it down with."

"We won't worry about that yet," said Frank. "I stepped into a puddle over in one corner while we were going round here. I suppose that came from the rain we had last night. It doesn't fit my idea of what drinking water ought to be, but it's a mighty sight better than dying of thirst."

They got out their stock of food and decided that with careful rationing they had enough for two days.

"And that will be plenty," prophesied Billy. "Our fellows will be here before long. Perhaps this very night we'll be with the old bunch again."

"I wish I had your cheery disposition," growled Tom. "When any one hands you a lemon——"

"I make lemonade out of it," came back Billy, and there was a general laugh.

"That's the way to talk," said Frank. "The Huns haven't got us yet, and even this hole is better than a German prison camp."

"You bet!" responded Billy. "From all I hear those places are something fierce. A fellow had better die fighting than die of abuse or starvation."

"That's what," agreed Bart. "And that's another thing that shows how low the Huns have stooped in this war. Look at the way we treat them when we take them prisoners. They live on the fat of the land. Of course the Germans haven't as much food in their country as we have, and we don't expect so much for our men in the matter of grub, although even at that they don't get enough to keep body and soul together. But it's sickening to hear of the way they torture them. One of their favorite sports is to set dogs on 'em. If a man doesn't move quickly enough to suit 'em they stick a bayonet into him. It's low beastly tyranny that puts them on a level with the Turks. It's no wonder that Germany is coming to be hated and despised by the whole world."

"Did you hear of the fire that happened in one of their camps?" queried Tom. "There was a hut in one corner of the camp with five men in it. It caught fire and the men, who couldn't get out of the door because it was locked, tried to get out of the window. The sentry thrust his bayonet into the first man, and threw him back into the flames. The poor fellow made another attempt and again the sentry ran the bayonet into him. And every one of the five men burned to death, though every one of them could have been saved. What do you think of that, fellows? Isn't it the limit?"

"They'll get theirs," said Frank bitterly. "They can't sow the wind without reaping the whirlwind. They'll surely pay, soon or late, for every bit of this brutality.

"I hope it will be soon," said Billy. "I'm getting impatient."

"It won't be long if we can keep up the pace we set this morning," said Bart. "Gee, how our tanks went through those wires as though they were rotten cord."

"And our guns are keeping it up," said Frank. "Just listen to that roar. What a shame it is we can't be out there doing our bit. It makes me feel like a slacker."

"It's the fortune of war," said Billy philosophically. "But it's might hard luck just the same that we took the wrong direction after we cleared up that machine gun nest so neatly. But let's have a hack at that grub, fellows. Oh, boy, if we only had some of that stew we lost this morning!"

"That stew still sticks in Billy's crop," laughed Frank.

"I only wish it did," mourned Billy. "But it never got that far."

"Well, just remember, fellows, that we're on rations now," warned Frank as he doled out a little portion to each from the common stock they had pooled together. "We've got to make this last as long as we can. If we feel hungry when we get through we'll just have to tighten our belts and let it go at that."

They ate sparingly, but, although they were all thirsty, especially after the heat and excitement of the fighting, it was a long time before they could bring themselves to drink from the pool in the corner of the cellar. They finally had to come to it, however, though they tried to make it less repugnant by filtering it through the only clean handkerchief they could muster among them.

The time dragged on interminably in their narrow quarters. They tried to sleep, but though they were very tired after their strenuous day, the novelty and discomfort of their position kept them on edge.

The daylight finally vanished from the little opening in the floor above and the darkness became absolute. They had matches in their kits, but they feared to use them lest some prowling sentry might see the light through some rift in the masonry.

The roar of the heavy artillery had died down, though the guns still gave out an occasional challenge. The fighting for the day was evidently at an end. But there had been no clash in the streets of the ruined town to betoken the arrival of the Allied forces. However they might have fared in other parts of the battlefield, the town itself had not been wrested from the Germans. In all probability the boys were still in the midst of their enemies.

"Another night as well as a day to stay in this shebang," remarked Tom when the hope of immediate rescue had failed them.

"Oh, well, to-morrow's a new day," said Frank. "A lot may happen between now and to-morrow night. Our grub will hold out till then anyway, and if nothing better turns up we'll make a dash and try to reach our lines."

He had scarcely stopped speaking when there was a loud clattering in the street as though a cavalry troop were passing through.

"Perhaps those are our men now!" exclaimed Billy jubilantly.

"Perhaps," assented Frank. "And they seem to be coming this way."

The pace of the horses died down as they neared the house, and they finally stopped just before it. The boys could hear the troopers dismount and a moment later they heard footsteps on the floor above.

They listened intently. Would the first words they heard be English or German? If the first it would mean a boisterous shout to the men above and a hasty and joyful scramble out of their prison. If the second, it would mean that they were in imminent danger of capture or death.

A light filtered down through the hole where the stovepipe had been. Somebody above had struck a match. But he had evidently burned his fingers as he did so, for the light went out and there was an impatient exclamation.

"Donnerwetter!"

Just one word, but it made the hearts of the listening boys go down into their boots.

For it was a German who just then struck a second match and lighted a candle, and it was a German cavalry troop whose horses stood before the door.

But for what purpose had they entered the house? Were they in search of the boys? Had any one seen them entering the house and given information?

"Be ready, fellows," whispered Frank. "It looks as if we were in for a scrap."

They clutched their rifles firmly to be ready for whatever might happen.

But it was not long before they realized that this sudden irruption had nothing to do with them. What seemed to be a bench or a table was dragged across the floor and one or more candles placed upon it. There seemed to be half a dozen or more officers in the room, and they were soon engaged in an earnest conversation.

"I never thought much of the German language," whispered Bart to Billy, "but I'd give a farm to understand it now."

"If Frank only knew German as well as he does French," responded Billy, "we might pick up something that our officers would give a lot to know."

For perhaps half an hour the raucous tones above continued. The debate was at times an angry one and was punctuated by the sound of fists brought heavily down on a table. Just after one of these, the stovepipe hole was dimmed by something that shut off the light from the room above. It floated down with a slight rustle and the boys could see that it was a paper of some kind.

In an instant Frank had crept across and grabbed the paper, thrusting it into the bosom of his shirt. Then he moved swiftly back to the shelter of the barricade.

"That was taking a chance, old boy," whispered Bart, as his friend resumed his place among them. "If you'd knocked against anything and the Huns had heard you, they'd have been down here in a jiffy."

"I suppose it was a little risky," returned Frank, "but we've got to take risks sometimes, and it struck me that there might be something in that paper that our officers would like to know."

Just then Billy, in trying to get in a less cramped position, knocked against one of the rifles that had been stood in a corner. It fell against one of the barrels with a clatter that in the confined place and the tense state of the boys' nerves sounded to them like thunder.

Frank grabbed it before it could fall on the cellar floor, but it seemed as though the mischief must have been done, and their hearts were in their mouths as they listened for anything that might indicate that the sound had been heard on the floor above.

But the debate had reached a lively stage just at that moment, and the incident attracted no attention, so that after two minutes more of strained listening the boys were assured that they had come off scot free from what might have been a disaster.

"This is sure no place for a man with heart disease," murmured Tom, and his comrades unanimously agreed with him.

The conference in the room above had come to an end, as was shown by the shuffling of feet as the men rose from the table. There was a sound as of a sheaf of papers being hastily gathered together. But there was no outcry to indicate that any one of them was missing, and the boys drew a long breath and relaxed their grasp on their rifles. There would be no search, and for the moment they were safe.

The lights above were extinguished and the party went out. The horses clattered away, and once more the house and the town were as still as the grave.

"So near and yet so far," murmured Frank, when he was sure that the last of the unwelcome visitors had departed.

"That was what you might call too close for comfort," grinned Billy.

"They wouldn't have done a thing to us if they had nabbed us," declared Bart. "We wouldn't have had a Chinaman's chance. No prison camp for ours! They'd have shot us down like dogs! They'd have reasoned that we had heard their military plans, and that would have been all the excuse they wanted."

"Not that they would care whether they had the excuse or not," said Billy. "The mere fact that a German wants to do anything makes it all right to do it."

"How they'd froth at the mouth if they knew Frank had that paper," remarked Tom. "I wonder what it is."

"It has a seal on it and it feels as if it were heavy and official," replied Frank. "I don't want to strike a match now, but I'll take a squint at it when daylight comes. Probably it's in German, and if it is I can't read it. But they'll read it at headquarters all right, and it may queer some of Heinie's plans."

They conversed in whispers a little while longer, and then made ready to go to sleep. Their preparations were not extensive, and consisted chiefly in finding a place where no sharp edge of stone bored into the small of their backs. But they were too tired to be critical, and after putting away the food in a corner and arranging to stand watch turn and turn about they soon forgot their troubles in sleep.

When they awoke the light shining through the hole in the floor told them that it was day.

"Time you fellows opened your eyes," remarked Tom, who had been standing the last watch. "If you hadn't I'd have booted you awake anyway, for you were snoring loud enough to bring the whole German army down on you."

"I'd hate to call you an out and out prevaricator, Tom," remarked Billy, rubbing his eyes and running his hands through his tumbled hair, "so I'll simply say that you use the truth with great economy. Suppose you bring me my breakfast. I think I'll eat it in bed this morning."

He dodged the shoe that Tom threw at his head and rose laughingly to his feet.

"Mighty bad manners the people have at this hotel," he remarked, "but since you feel that way about it I'll take my grub any way I can get it. Haul it out from that corner, Bart, and let's have a hack at it. I'm hungry enough to eat nails this morning."

Bart needed no second request, for he was quite as hungry as his mates. But when he picked up the canvas wrapper in which the food had been stored he dropped it with a startled exclamation.

"What's the matter?" cried Frank.

"Matter enough," replied Bart. "The bag's empty. There isn't a blessed thing in it."

The others rushed him under the light that came from above and examined the wrapper with sinking hearts. What Bart had said was true. Not a crumb was left.

There was no mystery about it. The gnawed and tattered holes in the bag told their own story. It was summed up in the one word that came from their lips simultaneously. "Rats!"

Their four-footed enemies had perhaps brought them nearer capture than their human enemies had been able to do.



CHAPTER XVI

CHASED BY CAVALRY

The four Army boys looked at each other in dismay.

Nothing much worse than this could have befallen them. It brought them close to the edge of tragedy. They would have to change their plans. Instead of being free to choose their own time for their attempt to escape, they were forced to act quickly no matter how much greater the risk might be. For if they waited until they were weak from hunger they would be in no condition to make a dash or put up a fight.

Frank as usual was the first to recover his self-possession.

"No use crying over spilt milk, fellows," he said, trying to infuse cheerfulness into his tone. "We've got to try Billy's recipe and make lemonade from the lemon that the rats have handed us."

"It's a mighty big lemon," said Tom, "and I don't see much sugar lying around."

"How could the brutes have got at it without our hearing them, do you suppose?" questioned Bart.

"That doesn't matter much," replied Billy. "And there's no use holding post-mortems. The thing is, what are we going to do?"

"We're going to get out of here to-night without fail," said Frank decidedly. "The moon won't come up till late and if the night is cloudy it won't show up at all. At any rate we can't stay here. There isn't a chance on earth of there being anything left in these houses, or we might take a chance on foraging. The Huns have seen to that. The longer we stay here the weaker we'll get. We've just got to make a break and trust our wits and our luck to get back to the lines."

"I guess you're right, old man," agreed Bart. "We'll just move our belts up a hole and pretend we're not hungry. Tom here's getting too fat anyway, and it'll do him good to give his stomach a rest. And as for Billy, he can take a nap and dream of that stew he didn't get."

"There's another thing, too," remarked Frank. "Those rats are likely to come back to-night for more, and they may have spread the news and bring a whole rat colony with them. No doubt they're famished since there's nothing left in the town to eat, and if there are enough of them they might go for us. Of course we could beat them off, but we'd be apt to make a lot of noise in doing it, and that might bring the Huns down on us. There's no use talking, we've got to skip."

They all agreed to this, and they passed the rest of that day as best they could until the light faded from the hole in the floor and night settled down in a pall of velvet. They clambered out of their temporary prison, their hearts beating with high determination.

They ventured out at last into the darkness, slipping along from one projection of the ruined houses to another, moving as lightly and stealthily as cats.

To one thing they had made up their minds. There would be no going back to their old hiding place. That meant either starvation or surrender. Besides, if they turned back on being discovered, the Germans would know that they were hiding somewhere in the ruined town and they would not leave one stone on another until they found them. But if they made a break for the open country they would have their chance of escaping in the darkness. On they went like so many spectres, until, on reaching a shattered doorway, they crept close together for a whispered parley.

"So far so good," murmured Frank.

"Luck's been with us," agreed Bert.

"We can stand a whole lot of luck in this business," whispered Tom.

"It's a long, long way yet to our own lines," said Billy. "We haven't got more than a couple of blocks away from our old hangout, and there's no telling how much further it is before we strike the open country."

Just then a stone toppled from a wall and fell with a crash only a few feet away. In their tense state of alertness the unexpected sound made them jump.

"Just as well we weren't under that," remarked Frank, with a sigh of relief.

"Let's hope it won't bring some German sentry along to see what's making the racket," responded Bart.

"Just what it is doing," whispered Tom, as he heard a step approaching. "Quick, fellows, get further back and lie down flat."

They almost ceased to breathe as a dim form passed by so close that they could almost have reached out and touched him. But the dust still rising from the shattered stone convinced the visitor that nature and not man was responsible for the disturbance, and, with a grunt of satisfaction that it was nothing worse, the sentry returned to his former post.

But the promptness with which he had appeared warned the fugitives that the town, desolate as it was, was still under guard, and they redoubled their precautions. However dangerous it might be, they must go on. The moon would rise before long, and they must make the most of the pitchy darkness that still prevailed.

Listening with all their ears and straining their eyes until they ached, they made their way through the littered streets until they realized from their frequent encounters with bush and hedge that they were getting into the open country.

Huddled close in a thicket, they consulted the radio compass that Frank drew from his pocket. That gave them the general direction in which they must go. They knew that in general their course led toward the west, but, as they could not tell what changes had taken place in the position of the armies as the result of the two days' fighting, they had no idea of how long it might take them to reach the American lines.

They got their bearings due west and set off. They were making fair progress when they were startled by hearing the clatter of hoofs a little ahead of them.

"Listen!" hissed Bart.

"It's a cavalry troop," whispered Frank, as he flattened himself behind a bush, an example that was promptly followed by the others.

"Troop!" growled Tom. "It sounds more like a brigade."

"Uhlans, probably," conjectured Billy.

They peered through the bushes at the broad road not more than twenty feet away.

At that moment the moon showed a slender rim above the horizon and threaded the darkness with a faint shimmer of light.

Along the road came a force of cavalry. The guttural voices of the riders told the concealed watchers that they belonged to the enemy. In the dim light they could see the steam that rose from the horses' flanks.

Those days had been the first for a long time that cavalry could be used on the western front. Trench fighting had put that arm of the service almost wholly out of action. But the fact that the Allies had followed up their tank attack with cavalry had brought forth a German response of the same nature.

There was no sign of elation among the riders, and the boys drew pleasure from that. A dejected air prevailed, as though the Uhlans had had the worst of it.

"Guess they've had the hot end of the poker," whispered Bart.

"Looks like it," replied Frank.

Something just then frightened one of the horses, and he reared and plunged into the bushes at the side of the road. The boys had all they could do to scramble out of reach of the iron-shod hoofs. The rider was almost unhorsed, but managed to retain his seat and quiet his trembling mount.

By the time he had done this, the troopers had almost passed. The boys were rejoicing at this, but their exultation changed to uneasiness when the soldier who had had so much trouble rode up to an officer and began to talk volubly, at the same time pointing toward the bushes.

"Here's where I see trouble coming," muttered Tom.

"He's on to us," agreed Bart.

"He must have seen us when we got out of his way," said Frank. "Let's get out of here, quick."

But this was not to be done so easily, for even as he spoke the officer rapped out a command and a group of twenty horsemen began to spread out and surround the place where the Army boys were crouching.

To remain there would be fatal, for it was only a matter of a few minutes before that ring would close upon them with a grip of iron. At all hazards they must break through.

"Stick together, fellows," murmured Frank. "Get your rifles ready. We can't miss at this distance. When I say the word, give them a volley and make a break for the road. It's our only chance, for they'd surely round us up in these bushes."

"We're with you, boy," replied Bart, and the little party crouched lower with their fingers on trigger.

Frank waited until the nearest horsemen were not more than ten feet away. Then he sprang to his feet with a shout.

"Fire!" he cried, and a stream of flame leaped from the bushes.

Two of the riders threw up their hands and pitched from their saddles. A third seized with his left hand the rein that dropped from his right. There was a moment of confusion, and Frank and his comrades took instant advantage of it.

With a rush they reached the road and tore down it for dear life, while behind them thundered the Uhlans in hot pursuit!



CHAPTER XVII

THE BROKEN BRIDGE

The Army boys had no idea where the road led to. It might be to the American lines or to the German lines. But they knew that certain death was behind them and possible life in front of them, and they ran as though their feet had wings.

But swift as they were, the horses were of course swifter, and before long they knew that their pursuers were gaining.

"Throw away your rifles," panted Frank. "We'll still have our knives and grenades."

They threw the heavy rifles aside, and, relieved of their weight, they bounded ahead with renewed speed.

For a short time their desperate efforts held their pursuers even, but soon the gap again began to close.

At a turn of the road they halted, gasping for breath.

"Give them the grenades," ordered Frank, getting his own ready. "They won't be expecting them and it may upset them. Throw yours at the same time I do mine."

They waited until the horsemen were within fifty feet. Then four stalwart arms hurled the grenades against the front ranks.

There was a tremendous explosion as the shells all seemed to go off at the same instant, and the first rank of horsemen went down in a heap.

Those behind drew their beasts back on their haunches so as not to override their fellows, and in that moment another volley came among them with deadly effect.

Without waiting any longer, the boys renewed their flight. They knew that the Germans would be mad with rage at their check by so small a force, and they were not foolish enough to believe for a moment that the chase would be abandoned.

But a new exultation was in their hearts as they ran. They might be killed, but they would at least have sold their lives dearly. There would be little that the Uhlans would have to boast of in their story of that night's work.

Their breath came in short gasps and their laboring lungs felt as though they were ready to burst. Frank, a little in the van, reached out a warning hand and they slowed up.

"We'll make faster time if we give ourselves a minute's rest," he panted. "When we start in again we'll have our second wind. They haven't got out of that mix-up yet. Besides, they'll come on more cautiously now. They won't know how many grenades we have left."

"I haven't any," gasped Tom.

Billy was too far gone to speak, but he drew his last grenade from his sack. Bart and Frank also were down to their last one, for the work on the previous day had almost used up the stock with which they had started out. They had a chance for one last throw, and then if it came to a hand to hand fight they had nothing to rely on but their knives.

They rested for a minute or two, and then again upon the wind came the sound of hurrying hoofs.

Instinctively the boys reached out and grasped one another's hands. There was no need for words. They knew what it meant. To some of them this might prove the last lap of the last race they would ever run.

On came their pursuers, and the boys, summoning up every ounce of strength they possessed, set out at the pace of hunted deer.

Not two minutes had elapsed before their feet struck the boards of a bridge. Below they saw the gleam of the moon in the dark water that ran beneath.

They took heart at the sight and put on a new burst of speed. Who knew but what the American troops were camped on the further side?

Twenty feet further they stopped abruptly. The bridge was broken. The boards had been torn up, though the shattered timbers of the sides projected a few feet further over the current. But fully a hundred feet of black water stretched between them and the farther shore.

They stopped, panting and perplexed. And just at that moment they heard the hoofs of horses on the wood of the bridge.

They were trapped. To turn back was certain captivity or death. To plunge into that black current might also mean death. Their choice was made on the instant.

"Over we go, boys!" shouted Frank, throwing off his coat. "But we mustn't waste those last grenades. Let them have them."

They turned and threw, and without waiting to see the result dived headforemost into the stream. The roar of the explosion was in their ears as they struck the water.

They were all good swimmers, and when they came to the surface they found themselves within a few feet of each other.

"To the other bank, fellows!" exclaimed Frank, as he shook the water from his eyes. "And keep as low in the water as you can. They'll send a volley after us."

They struck out lustily for the farther shore while, as Frank had predicted, bullets zipped around them. But in the darkness their foes could take no aim and they reached the shore unscathed.

The bank was steep, with long reeds growing down to the water's edge. The fugitives grasped these and rested before they attempted to climb the bank.

"I'm all in," gasped Tom.

Frank reached out a supporting hand.

"I guess we all are," he replied. "It's lucky this river isn't wider. But we're safe now."

"I don't know about that," said Bart. "Listen!"

There was a tramp of many feet upon the bank.

"They've heard the shooting," whispered Billy. "If it's our boys we're all right. If it isn't——"

The sentence was never finished. Above the bank they saw a crowd of helmeted figures. A light was flashed into their faces, nearly blinding them, and a hoarse voice cried:

"Wer da!"

A score of hands reached down and grasped them. Unarmed, dripping, utterly exhausted, they found themselves in the hands of the soldiers of the Kaiser!



CHAPTER XVIII

RESCUE FROM THE SKY

With a file of soldiers on either side of them, the four boys were marched off to a dugout near at hand. Here a German outpost had been stationed to watch the river bank. It was not a large command, and the lieutenant in charge, being unable to speak English and having no interpreter at hand, after a few brusque attempts to question them gave it up. Then, after having had them searched, he committed them to the custody of a non-commissioned officer with directions that they were to be fed and sent to headquarters in the morning. They ate ravenously, and, not being permitted to talk to each other, found solace in sorely needed sleep.

When taken before the German officers, the friends were forced to undergo a strict and searching examination. Their questioners tried in every way, with pleadings alternating with threats, to get them to divulge information that might be useful to them, but in vain. The four Americans were absolutely uncommunicative, and at last the German who had been doing most of the questioning was forced to acknowledge defeat.

"Donnerwetter!" he growled. "Yankee pigs! It must be that they are so stupid that they do not know anything to tell. What do you think, Herr Lieutenant?" turning to one of his officers.

"I think it more likely that they are just obstinate, sir, like those cursed English," replied the officer addressed. "But perhaps a few months in a prison camp will incline them to answer more quickly when a German speaks to them." This was accompanied by a cruel smile, whose significance was hot lost on the Americans. The captain glared at them, but as they did not seem to weaken perceptibly, even under his high displeasure, he grumbled finally:

"Well, take them away, and we'll see how they act after a taste of prison life." As their guards were about to take them from the room, he continued, menacingly: "Remember, you Yankees, that the sooner you tell me what I want to know, the easier it will be for you. And in the end we'll make you talk. It is not well to oppose Germany's will too far."

But as the prisoners did not appear greatly frightened by these threats, the commander at last ordered the sergeant in charge to take the prisoners away, and turned again to his desk.

In spite of the critical situation in which they found themselves, Bart could not resist a surreptitious wink at his companions as they passed through the doorway, which was returned in kind by his graceless companions. But, although they had had the satisfaction of balking the German officers, they were not long in appreciating the discomforts of their present situation. When they reached the temporary prison camp, they were herded into a large tent, already overcrowded with French, English, and a few American prisoners. Soon after their arrival food was served out, although it hardly seemed worthy of the name. Watery soup, made by boiling turnips in water, and a small chunk of some tasteless substance supposed to be bread, constituted the meal. The boys, fresh from the wholesome and abundant food furnished by Uncle Sam, found it absolutely uneatable, and gave away their portions to some of the other prisoners, who appeared glad to get it.

"Wait until you've been here a few days," said one lanky Englishman, with a ghastly smile, "you'll get so thoroughly famished that you'll be able to go even that stuff," and he made a wry face.

"Perhaps so, if we can't find some way to get out," said Frank.

"Not as easy as it sounds," said the Englishman. "Although it has been done, of course. But a lot more have been shot trying it than have ever got away."

"Might as well get shot as die of starvation," remarked Tom.

This opinion evidently appealed to Tom's comrades, who looked significantly at him. From that look each knew that the others were ready to risk everything to gain their freedom. The Englishman, however, seemed unconvinced, and presently left them.

As night came on, they cast about for some place to sleep, but met with little success. The only place to lie was on the ground, but by that time the four friends were so tired that sleep, even under any hardship, was desirable. They finally settled down in a corner that appeared a little less crowded than the rest. However, before going to sleep they tried to formulate some plan of escape, but with indifferent success.