"Sorry," said Wilson as he passed along, "but orders are orders, and we can't get off any sooner."

"And who knows what may happen to Tom in the meantime?" said Billy sorrowfully.

"It's exasperating," said Frank. "It makes me crazy to think of another twenty-four hours going by while we're doing nothing to help him."

"The only comfort is the confidence I have in Tom's luck," said Bart "That boy sure must have a rabbit's foot around him somewhere. He has as many lives as a cat. Do you remember how he got away from that drunken German bunch that had a rope all ready to hang him? And the slick way he got away in a barrel from the prison camp? I tell you that the bullet isn't molded that will kill that boy, and don't you forget it."

"I only hope you're right," returned Frank. "All the same I'll feel a whole lot easier in my mind when the old scout is with us again."

Just then a litter passed them carrying a sick man to the hospital ward.

"Those things are getting a little too common to suit me," remarked Frank. "The health of the boys here used to be fine. Now they say that the hospitals are getting overcrowded."

"And a good many of those who go in aren't coming out again, that's the worst of it," observed Billy. "That cemetery on the hill is getting altogether too full."

"If this mysterious disease isn't checked it will be worse than the 'flu,'" said Bart. "What's the matter with our doctors anyway? Why don't they get on the job?"

"You can't blame them," Frank defended. "There's no better medical staff in any army than the one we've got. They're working like mad to try to isolate the germ, or whatever it is, that's causing this mysterious trouble. But they seem to be all at sea in this matter. It's an entirely new thing, and they haven't found any way to conquer it."

"It would be rather hard luck to come through St. Mihiel and the Argonne, and then to be knocked out by a measly disease like this," said Billy disgustedly.

"Well, it hasn't got us yet, and let's hope it won't," said Frank. "But now that we've got a chance, what do you fellows say if we go over tonight and try to get at the bottom of that alley mystery? I shan't be easy in my mind until I've solved it."

"Always looking for trouble," laughed Bart. "But I don't mind confessing that the matter's got tight hold of me too, and I'm game to see it through to a finish."

"Count me in," said Billy.

"If only poor Tom were with us!" mourned Frank "It's just the kind of thing he'd like to trail. And if there should happen to be any scrapping, he'd be a mighty handy lad to have along with us. He'd rather fight than eat any time."

After the drills and work of the day were over they got permission to go to the town and started across the river just as twilight was falling.

While passing through one of the streets, they met the famous German physician, from whom they customarily got a look that betrayed his hate of the American uniform. But this time, to their surprise, he was rubbing his hands and seemed to be in high good humor.

"What's come over his nibs, I wonder," remarked Billy. "Usually he seems to have a grouch of the worst kind, but to look at him now you might think that he'd just had news of a good fat legacy."

"He is different, for a fact." agreed Bart. "He couldn't look happier if Germany had won the war."

They looked after him, and saw him vanishing into the doorway of a dwelling that was really a mansion.

"Swell place that," observed Billy. "He must have a peach of a practice to live in a house like that."

"He's one of the most famous men in his line in Germany I've heard," commented Frank.

"They say the Kaiser himself used to consult him. But of late they say that he's made himself almost a hermit. Seems that he's given up his regular practice, and simply nurses his grouch because Germany was licked."

"He sits up pretty late to do it then," put in Billy. "I've been on sentry duty in this street, and many a time I've seen a light in his office until almost morning."

"Here's our corner," Frank said, as they came to the next street.

They approached the alley with the utmost caution, and slipped into its darkness when they felt sure that they were unobserved.

"That's queer!" exclaimed Frank, gazing above the blank wall at the outline of a tall building that rose beyond it.

"What's queer?" asked Billy.

"Why, that building there is the same one the doctor went into," answered his companion. "I know it by that cupola on the top. It must back up right against this wall. In fact, this wall is part of the rear wall of the house. I thought these were only factories."

"Oh, well, what if it is?" returned Bart. "We'd better get busy here before we're interrupted. Let's hope there isn't another fire in this district to-night."

Without much difficulty they found the square place that Frank and Bart had noticed on their previous visit. They scraped away the ice and gravel and discovered the ring by which the trap door was evidently raised. Then they braced themselves and gave a mighty tug.

But the effort was unavailing. They were far stronger than the ordinary run of men, and yet even their trained muscles had to confess defeat.

"Perhaps it's locked or bolted on the other side," suggested Bart.

"Not likely," answered Frank. "It's more probable that it's frozen in. Get out your knives and dig around the edge of the door, and then we'll try again."

They did this for perhaps five minutes, and then tried again.

This time the door moved but did not yield. Once more they bent their backs to the work, and this time they won. Slowly and creakingly the door rose, showing a yawning chasm beneath, while a rush of fetid air assailed their nostrils!



CHAPTER XVII

A PERILOUS SITUATION

The three Army Boys started back almost letting go the trap door in their desire to escape the noxious odor and fill their lungs with the cool winter air.

"What is this anyway—the entrance to the infernal regions?" asked Billy.

"If it were, it couldn't smell much worse, I imagine," answered Bart.

"We're not going to let a thing like that hold us back, are we?" asked Frank impatiently.

"Of course not," replied Billy. "But that doesn't say we have to like it, does it? Flash that light of yours and let us see just what this sweet smelling thing looks like."

Frank directed the rays of his flashlight into the gloomy recess, and the light fell on a small platform about four feet below the level of the ground. Two or three stone steps descended from this and then they could faintly see a rough stone floor from which several passages branched out in different directions.

He returned the light to his pocket, and the three held a whispered conversation.

"Well, fellows, you've seen as much of it as I have," said Frank. "What do you say? Shall we explore it?"

"Sure thing," replied Bart. "What do you think we are, a bunch of four flushers?"

"Lead on, old scout," said Billy. "But first we must wedge this door up a trifle, so as to be able to open it easily when we come back."

"Right you are!" said Frank. "When we do come back we may have to come in a hurry for all we know, and we want to be able to lift this up in a jiffy."

They hunted around until they found a small slab of stone which they wedged under the door, after they had dropped down into the space below. Then, with Frank in the van, with his flashlight sending its rays ahead of them, they ventured slowly into the unknown, feeling their way with the utmost caution.

The stone floor was uneven and damp, and at times they stepped into pools of noisome water that was covered with green scum. The sides of the narrow passages were covered with mold, and the air was heavy and offensive.

Suddenly Frank stepped back with a sharp exclamation, and at the same instant there was a squeal, and a gray form scurried away into the darkness.

"A rat!" he murmured to his friends behind him. "I stepped fairly on him. A mighty big fellow he was, too."

They went on a little further, keeping close together, for there were several passages that branched off from what seemed to be the main one, and if they became separated it might be difficult for them to get together again, especially as Frank was the only one of the trio who had a flashlight.

And now their ears were assailed by soft patterings and shufflings that seemed to increase in number as they progressed. Their eyes caught certain red points that flared like sparks and then vanished, only to reappear. It was as though a host of eerie things were keeping tab on their movements, and after a while this silent mustering of unseen watchers got on their nerves.

Billy, who came last, was passing one of the passages that branched off to the left when he thought he caught a glimpse of light. He went into this side passage for a few steps to make sure, and verified his first impression. There, sure enough, was an electric bulb, on the opposite side of which he could see the outline of a door.

He was hurrying back to tell his comrades what he had seen when he heard an exclamation from Bart that quickened his steps still more. Bart's right hand was holding on to his left, and in the light that Frank had directed on it he saw that the hand was bleeding.

"It was a rat," Bart exclaimed wrathfully, as he nursed his wounded hand. "The beggar jumped straight at it. It feels as though he'd made his teeth meet through it"

Billy whipped out his handkerchief and was binding it around his comrade's hand, when a gray form sprang from the darkness and fastened its teeth in his trousers leg just grazing the skin. Frank made a kick at it, but as he did so, his foot slipped on the damp stone and the flashlight flew out of his hand, leaving them in utter darkness. He stooped to try to find it, but his hand touched a furry coat and he drew back just in time to escape a savage snap.

Then as if by magic those red pin points, that they now knew were eyes, seemed to spring up from every direction. There were rats everywhere, an army of them, rats ahead of them and rats behind them, gathering to oust these human intruders from their domain. Singly they were contemptible opponents, but now they had the strength that came from numbers, and they knew it.

And the Army Boys knew it too. For an instant panic gripped at their hearts. The next moment they had pulled themselves together.

"Back to the trap door, fellows!" said Frank tensely. "Fast, but not too fast. Don't run. And don't shoot, or we may hit each other. Draw your revolvers and club them off with the butts."

They retraced their steps as well as they could in the darkness. The rats knew that they were retreating, and they grew bolder. Again and again they fastened themselves on their arms and legs, and had to be beaten off with the revolver butts. All the boys were bitten many times, and it seemed to them that they would never come to the end of the passage alive. But none of their assailants reached their throats, although one had to be knocked from Billy's shoulder, and at last the nightmare journey ended when they stumbled against the steps that led to the trap door. Frantically they heaved the door up and clambered out and sank down on the ice covered ground, spent and out of breath and utterly exhausted.



CHAPTER XVIII

THE CRITICAL MOMENT

For a time the Army Boys sat there, panting and gasping from their unwonted exertions, yet filled with a deep thankfulness that they had won through as well as they had.

At length Frank gave a short laugh that had in it little trace of mirth.

"Three husky doughboys of the American Army put to flight by a horde of rats!" he exclaimed.

"All the same, they'd be picking the bones of those same husky doughboys if we hadn't vamoosed," defended Billy. "Gee! it seemed to me that there must have been millions of them."

"I know now how that Bishop Hatto, or whoever it was, felt when the rats were after him," put in Bart. "If we'd only had some clubs with us we might have had a chance."

"Well, they made us show our backs, and that's something the Huns were never able to do," said Frank. "But I guess we'd better get back to the barracks and cauterize these bites. I don't know how you fellows made out, but I'll bet they bit me in twenty places. I'm bleeding fiercely."

"Same here," echoed Billy.

"I feel as though I were one big wound," said Bart lugubriously. "But say, fellows, don't let on what we've been up against or the boys will guy us to death."

"And to think we've been to all this trouble only to find that we'd stumbled into a sewer," said Frank disgustedly. "That's what it must have been, guessing by the smell."

"Oh by the way!" exclaimed Billy, as a thought struck him. "I meant to tell you fellows, but the fight with the rats put it out of my mind. There was an electric light in one of those passages."

Frank, who had gotten to his feet and started to walk away, stopped as though he had been shot.

"What's that?" he demanded sharply.

"Fact," replied Billy. "I could see it plainly, and behind it I saw the outline of a door. I started to tell you fellows about it, and then I heard one of you shout and I didn't think of the thing again till this blessed minute."

"Well, that certainly was hard luck!" exclaimed Frank bitterly. "Ten to one that's the clue to the mystery. My hunch wasn't a false alarm after all. I've a good mind to go back right now and finish the job."

"Not on your life you won't!" said Bart decidedly. "Not if Billy and I have to hold you back by main force. Why, boy, you're crazy. Those rats have tasted blood, and they're full of fight. And then, too, we haven't any clubs to beat them off. It would be sheer suicide to go in there again to-night."

"Bart is right," acquiesced Billy. "Some other night perhaps when we're in shape for it, but not now. Come along, old man, and use your common sense."

Frank knew in his heart that his friends were right, but it galled him horribly to defer the adventure.

"Well," he agreed reluctantly, "we'll call it a night's work and let it go at that. But I'm only giving it on the promise that we'll try it again. We've never let anything in Hunland get away with us yet, and it's too late to start it now. If I live I'm going to get to the bottom of this."

"Sure thing," agreed Bart. "We're just as keen to clear it up as you are. But this isn't our lucky night. Let's light out for the barracks and fix up these bites."

They made their way back and slipped in as unobtrusively as they could, and after they had cauterized and dressed their wounds they sought to forget their disappointment in sleep.

The next day found them stiff and sore, but this feeling wore off as the day progressed, and when night came they forgot everything in their eagerness to be on the march to hunt for their missing comrade, who had hardly for a moment been out of their thoughts.

The plans for the expedition had been carefully mapped out. The detachment was to travel by lanes and byroads as much as possible, and under the cover of darkness they hoped to avoid observation and comment. Their chief hope of success lay in taking the enemy by surprise, and every precaution was observed to prevent any miscarriage of their plans.

"Say, fellows, if we can only have the old scout with us by to- morrow night!" exclaimed Frank, turning to his two comrades, his eyes alight with eagerness.

"Wouldn't it be bully?" cried Bart.

"I'm betting that we shall," said Billy hopefully. "That is, if he happens to be the prisoner that Dick was telling us about. Of course that's only a guess."

The order came to fall in, and with Lieutenant Winter at the head the expedition started out on its long hike. The men moved along in loose formation, and all loud talking in the ranks or unnecessary noise was put under the ban.

The night was clear and cold. There was no moon, for which the boys were thankful. There were no cities along the route, and they passed through the occasional scattered hamlets without attracting much attention. Now and then a dog barked and at times a face could be seen pressed against a window pane. Sometimes a straggling figure was seen on the road, but at the sight of the shadowy body of marching men it discreetly vanished into the fields or woods at the side of the highway.

It was about four o'clock in the morning when they reached the outskirts of the town that was their destination. The lieutenant threw out a cordon of men to guard the roads and intercept any one going to or coming from the place. No fires were built, though in the bitter cold of the early morning they would have been grateful. But the men submitted to this privation without grumbling, and stood about stamping their feet and swinging their arms to keep warm and munching the cold rations that they had brought with them.

Within an hour three Germans had been brought in by the sentries. Two of them were laborers who were coming from a neighboring hamlet to their work in the town. The other had been intercepted coming from the town on his way to take an early train at a railroad station some three miles away.

The men were questioned by the lieutenant with the aid of an interpreter. The laborers knew nothing, or, if they did, they were too frightened by the sight of the armed men about them to answer intelligently. They knew that there had been rioting in the town and some people had been killed and wounded, but they had gone along doing their work and had not been molested. They knew nothing about any American prisoner. They were plainly what they claimed to be and the questioning was not continued long.

The other man proved more intelligent and more communicative. Yes, the Spartacides held possession of the town and the red flag was flying from the town hall. The regular authorities had been disarmed and were held as hostages by the rioters. There had been a good deal of looting of shops and robbery of the homes of the well-to-do.

As to there being any American among the prisoners or hostages, he did not know. He had heard some rumors to that effect, but he had not inquired, for in these days it was well not to show too much curiosity, and he was a quiet man and wanted to keep out of trouble.

The lieutenant was not satisfied that he had told all he knew, and pressed the man further. Under questioning, at first persuasive and then threatening, the man remembered that there had been a meeting of the Spartacides the night before in which the matter of disposing of the prisoners had been discussed. Some had been in favor of executing them out of hand. Others had objected. He did not know what decision had been reached.

Under pressure, he admitted that several executions had already taken place. Where? At the parade ground. Where was that? Not ten minutes walk from where they were now standing. Would he lead them to it?

At this he demurred. He was a peaceful citizen. He did not want to get tangled up in any political affair. He was strictly neutral. The Spartacides would take his life.

A cold glint came into the lieutenant's eyes and his hand dropped carelessly on the handle of his revolver. He toyed with it for a moment. Was the man quite sure that he did not want to show him where the parade ground was?

The man wilted on the instant. Certainly he would show them. He would go that minute if the Herr Lieutenant was ready.

"Very well," said the lieutenant, and promptly gave the order that the men should fall in line, and prepare to march.

In less than ten minutes they were at the designated spot. It was a bleak, wind-swept space of ground, rectangular in shape, on the edge of a stretch of wood. At the end of the grounds nearest the woods there was a blank wall about ten feet high.

As he caught sight of the wall, Frank gave an involuntary shiver that was not from cold.

"What's the matter?" asked Billy Waldon, looking curiously at his companion.

"Nothing," replied Frank Sheldon, studiously avoiding his comrade's eye.



CHAPTER XIX

TURNING THE TABLES

The lieutenant carefully disposed his men in the shelter of the trees and waited.

It was growing a little lighter now that the dawn was beginning to glimmer in the eastern sky.

In a little building at the side of the parade ground lights began to show and figures could be seen passing to and fro. The bustle increased as the moments passed until it could be surmised that something unusual was on foot.

A file of men could be seen going through the dim street on the further side of the building and passing into it by what was evidently the front entrance. Then, after a while, groups of two or three came out through the back door and hung about, smoking, as though they were waiting until the business inside, whatever it was, should be finished.

Most of the men had old German Army uniforms, but others were dressed as civilians. One man wore an officer's cap, but if that really indicated his rank, it was evident from the free and easy way in which he mingled with the others that the old discipline of the German Army had disappeared. The boys remembered that one tenet of the Spartacides' creed was that officer and man should stand on equal terms.

Presently a table was brought out by some men and placed on the ground a little way away from the bottom of the steps. Following this came three men who seemed to be in authority, and behind them a number of prisoners, guarded by men with rifles.

It had grown lighter now, and a thrill went through the Army Boys crouching in their covert as they saw that one of the prisoners wore the American uniform. He was facing the men who sat at the table, evidently his judges, and his back was toward the eyes that were watching him so eagerly from the wood, but they knew in an instant who it was.

It was Tom, dear old Tom, his form as erect, his bearing as defiant as they had always known it! They knew that figure too well to be mistaken. There was a constriction in their throats and their hands gripped their rifles until it seemed as if their fingers would bury themselves in the stocks.

They were at too great a distance to hear what was said, but it was apparent that a trial of some kind was in progress. It might have been that some of them had scruples about executing the prisoners out of hand, and the form was observed in order to get their assent to the bloody work that the majority had determined on.

But that the trial was a mere form was evident from the hurried way in which it was carried on. One by one, the prisoners, of whom there seemed to be about a dozen, passed before the table, were asked a few questions, and then dismissed to take their stand on the other side. It was pitiful to note that one or two of the prisoners were mere boys, while others were men well advanced in years. One, who wore a velvet cap, seemed to be a person of consequence, possibly an official of the town.

Not more than fifteen minutes had passed before all had gone through this mockery of a trial. It was evident that their fate was predetermined, for none was freed. All took their places between the guards and awaited the next move of the men who held in their hands the power of life and death.

During all this time the eyes of the Army Boys had been glued on the one figure of their comrade. They had noted that of all the prisoners he alone had his hands tied behind him. It filled them with pride to see the undaunted way in which he had faced his captors and the evident scorn with which he had heard his fate. While some of the prisoners were weeping, others wringing their hands, and others standing in an attitude of completest dejection, he was apparently as self-possessed and unalarmed as though he had been standing in front of the barracks at Ehrenbreitstein.

"Same old Tom!" whispered Frank to Bart. "The Germans never cowed him yet."

"He's faced death too many times to fear it now," answered Bart, with a catching of his breath. "They knew, too, what they were about when they tied his hands."

"You bet they know what those hands can do," added Billy.

Two or three minutes elapsed while a dispute seemed to be going on between the men seated at the table. Then, at a given signal, the guards marshaled the prisoners in line and led them toward the wall at the back of the parade ground.

The Army Boys were in a fever of apprehension.

"What's the lieutenant doing?" asked Bart impatiently. "Can't he see that now's the time?"

"Don't worry," admonished Frank, though he himself was frantic with the desire for action. "He knows what he's about."

The prisoners were lined up in a row about ten feet from the wall. Then by a refinement of cruelty, spades were brought forward, and the condemned men were bidden to dig their own graves. The guards passed along the line, placing a spade in the hand of each and telling them roughly what they were to do. They came to Tom and saw that his hands were bound. There was hesitation and a moment's colloquy between two of the guards, and then one of them drew his knife and cut the cords while the other handed Tom a spade.

Tom took it.

The next instant he had whirled it over his head and brought it down on the head of the guard nearest him. The man went down as if shot. Spinning about, Tom sent the other guard down in a heap. Then he hurled the improvised weapon into the ranks of the men's comrades, who in wild excitement were bringing their rifles to their shoulders, and broke like a deer toward the woods.

"Charge!" shouted Lieutenant Winter.

Never was order obeyed with more alacrity. Out of the woods came rushing the men of the old Thirty-seventh, sending a hail of bullets before them. Several of the German firing squad went down at the first volley and the rest were overborne in the mad rush.

The scene was indescribable. There was a crackling of scattered shots from the startled Germans. The men who had acted as judges jumped to their feet in terror and tried to escape. Bullets brought down one of them, a bayonet another, while the remaining member of the trio was gripped and held none too gently by enraged doughboys.

In a few minutes it was all over. The prisoners were placed under guard and the Americans were recalled from the chase.

And in the midst of the Army Boys was Tom, panting, spent, breathless, mauled and pounded by his rejoicing comrades, scarcely able to believe in his good fortune—good old Tom, who once more in his adventurous career had gone into the very jaws of death and had come out unscathed!



CHAPTER XX

THE CLAWS OF THE HUNS

There was a wild tumult of questions and answers. None of the Army Boys knew what they were doing or saying. The escape had been so narrow, the relief at deliverance so great, that they were simply incoherent for a while.

"Thank heaven, old man, that we have you with us again safe and sound!" cried Frank, as he grasped his comrade's hand and almost wrung it off.

"I felt as though my heart were going to come out of my body while I watched you," said Bart, gripping the other hand.

"It seemed ages while we stood waiting for the lieutenant to give the word," added Billy, giving vent to his feelings by giving Tom a hug like that of a boa constrictor.

"I don't know yet whether I'm awake or dreaming," said Tom, with a laugh that was a little shaky. "You boys surely did come just in time. I never expected to see you again. And yet I might have known that you'd find me if I was on top of the earth."

"You made a game fight for it, old boy," said Frank admiringly.

"Gee, what a clip you gave those fellows with that spade," chuckled Billy. "They went down like cattle hit with an axe."

"You might have won out even without us," said Bart "If you had once got into those woods they'd have had to do some traveling to catch you."

"They'd probably have caught me with a bullet," laughed Tom. "Can you imagine, boys, how I felt when I saw you fellows fairly seem to come up out of the ground? I hadn't really thought that I had a chance to escape. But I made up my mind that if I had to go I'd take some of those Huns along with me. That spade that they wanted me to dig my grave with was a good friend of mine."

"Where they made a mistake was not digging the grave themselves and letting your hands stay tied," said Billy. "But here comes the lieutenant."

Lieutenant Winter came along the line and greeted Tom warmly.

"Good work you did with that spade, Bradford," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "It simply shows that in fighting it's the man more than the weapon that counts. Well, you're safe with us again, and I'm glad on my own account and for the sake of the regiment. We couldn't afford to lose a good two-fisted fighter like you. As soon as you've been to mess I'll want to see you again and question you on what you've learned while you've been a prisoner."

He passed on to look after the captives and set a guard to maintain order in the town. The ringleaders had been captured, and the rest of the Spartacides were cowed and bewildered. And now, encouraged by the presence of the Americans, the more decent element of the community again asserted themselves and the rioters either fled or went into hiding.

The company cook had been busy foraging, and soon had a hot breakfast ready for the detachment, who after their long vigil in the cold and darkness fell upon it like so many hungry wolves. The Army Boys did their full share, and Tom especially ate ravenously and as though he could never get enough.

"Did they starve you, old boy?" asked Frank, as the food disappeared like magic.

"Starve's the right word," answered Tom, as well as he could with his mouth full. "Didn't get a quarter of what I needed. Watery soup and carrots and black bread and once in a while a musty piece of meat. And it wasn't because they were short of food, for they simply gorged. They just wanted to torture me because they hated all Americans, and I happened to be the only one within their reach. Oh, I just love those gentle Huns. I've come to believe that there are only two classes in the world—human beings and Germans."

"I've known that ever since I saw what they did in France and Belgium," remarked Bart. "No other people on earth could have done it!"

After they had finished their meal Tom received a summons to go to the hall that Lieutenant Winter had selected as his temporary quarters. When he entered the hall he started, for he saw among the men standing there the man whom the lieutenant had captured and used as a guide to the parade ground. The man saw him at the same time and sought to efface himself among the others.

"Do you know that man?" asked the lieutenant, who had seen Tom's start of surprise.

"Only too well," said Tom, in a tone where bitterness and scorn were mingled.

"What about him?" asked the lieutenant.

"He's one of the ringleaders of that gang of highbinders," answered Tom.

The lieutenant looked at the man stonily.

"So you're the peaceful citizen that knew so little about the Spartacides, are you?" he asked bitingly.

The man started to protest, but the lieutenant shut him up brusquely and turned to Tom.

"It's lucky you came in just when you did," he said. "I was just about to let this man go because of his services in showing us where the parade ground was. I know now why he was so reluctant to do it." "He did it to save his own skin," answered Tom. "He's a coward as well as a murderer. He's been responsible for other executions that have taken place here in the last few days. He's been one of the bloodiest of the lot, and whenever he saw one of the gang begin to weaken he's stiffened him up. He started out this morning to go to another town to stir up the same kind of riot and murder. I heard him talking about it last night. And just before he went he came to the room where I was confined and taunted me. Told me that I'd be food for the worms to-morrow and that before long there'd be a lot of Americans to keep me company."

The man again started to protest, but one of the doughboys who was on guard gripped him by the collar and dug his knuckles into his neck as he yanked him back.

"Take him away and put him in the same cell where Bradford was held," commanded the lieutenant. "He shall have a taste of his own medicine. He'll get a trial when he gets to Coblenz, and the chances are that he'll face a firing squad. Such fiendish work as he's been doing is going to be stopped if it takes the whole American army to do it!"

The eyes of the Americans followed the cringing figure of the German as he was led away, and then the lieutenant turned to Tom.

"Now for your story, Bradford," he said, and took a pen and prepared to jot down the main points of the former prisoner's experience.



CHAPTER XXI

SQUARING ACCOUNTS

Tom told in detail just what had happened since he had fallen into the hands of the Huns. He had been taken from place to place and treated with the greatest harshness. Everywhere he had witnessed scenes of bloodshed and cruelty. The Spartacides had spared neither age nor sex. They had seemed possessed with a lust for murder. Their bloody work had a fit emblem in their red flag. Tom's familiarity with the language had not been great enough to understand all that was said in the conferences that he frequently overheard, though he had picked up enough to know that murder and riot were being planned on an extensive scale in the district occupied by the American Army. Some of the Germans in the mob had lived previously in America, from which they came to serve in the German Army when war had been declared and while the United States was still neutral, and these men, Tom said, were among the bitterest of all. Often in their off hours they would come and stand in front of his cell and tell him blood curdling stories of what they had been doing and of what they were going to do to him also. They had spoken freely, for they regarded him as good as dead, and some of the information he had gained from the talk of these miscreants was regarded as of great value by the lieutenant, whose pen fairly flew over the paper at some points in Tom's narrative.

At last Tom had told the lieutenant all he knew, and after thanking him the officer dismissed him.

He was witness to some touching sights as he made his way back to his companions. There were mothers embracing their sons, wives weeping with joy in the arms of their husbands who had been Tom's companions in the grim march that morning to the rear wall where they were to face death. But there were no fresh stains on that wall this morning, and the graves remained undug, though here and there were seen the first marks of spades where the wretched victims had begun to dig. It had been a close call, and Tom involuntarily shuddered. The cool air that he drew into his lungs had never seemed so sweet to him as now.

He found the Army Boys looking with great interest at a spade which they held out to him as they approached.

"Here's a souvenir, old boy," grinned Billy.

"It's the one you lammed into the Huns with," explained Bart. "My, but that was a mighty wallop. They went down like tenpins."

"I guess it gave them a headache," laughed Tom. "I know that I put all my weight behind the blows."

"One of them will never have any more headaches," declared Frank. "Even his thick German skull wasn't proof against that blow. Subsequent proceedings will interest him no more."

"The other one was taken to the hospital with a broken shoulder," remarked Billy.

"If Tom had only had time, he'd have cleaned out the whole bunch," laughed Bart. "As it is, he's given them a wholesome respect for American muscle."

"And American speed too, I imagine," grinned Billy. "The way Tom was making for the woods was a caution. A jack rabbit had nothing on him."

They could joke about the matter now, but it had been far from a joke at that moment not far removed, when life and death had been trembling in the balance.

"Tell us how we came to lose you, Tom," said Frank, as he threw down the spade and they made their way to their temporary quarters. "One minute we saw you and the next we didn't."

"You vanished like a ghost," put in Bart "When we were fighting in that house I saw you knock down one of the rioters with the butt of your gun. I was busy myself then with a husky roughneck, but I tumbled him over and looked around for you and couldn't see you."

"We thought at first," said Billy, "that you might have fallen between the houses when you were chasing the Huns over the roof. We made a careful search afterward, but couldn't find hide nor hair of you. You weren't in any of the hospitals, either. You seemed to have melted into thin air."

"I'm blest if I know myself how it happened," said Tom. "The last I remember was that a couple tackled me at once. I lunged my bayonet at one of them, and then I must have gone down and out, although I don't even remember being hit. I suppose, though, that the other fellow caught me a clip with a gun butt, for when I next knew anything I had a lump on the back of my head as big as an egg.

"I found myself in an attic that was as black as Egypt," he went on. "I couldn't tell whether it was day or night, for there didn't seem to be any window. My hands were tied behind me, and I was aching from head to foot. After a while a bunch of Huns came in, took me downstairs, and pitched me into a covered wagon. Then they drove off into the country. Where they took me I don't know, but after a long ride I was taken out of the wagon and slammed down in a room of what seemed to be a deserted cabin. I only knew it was somewhere in the woods, for through the windows I could see trees all around.

"After a while two or three men who seemed to be the leaders came in. One of them, who could speak English, tried to put me through the third degree. They wanted me to tell them all that I knew about the army forces in Coblenz and the surrounding districts, how many there were, where they were located, what the plans were, and all that kind of dope. Of course I didn't know anything, and then they took it out of me in kicks. I got lots of them, and I guess I'm black and blue all over. They're a plucky lot when a man's hands are tied."

There was a murmur of rage and sympathy from his comrades and their fists clenched.

"Some of them wanted to put an end to me right then and there," Tom continued, "but others objected until they could get me a little further into Germany. They felt that the American forces were a little too near for comfort. Great Scott, how they hate the Americans! They fairly frothed at the mouth when they spoke of them. They blame us for their defeat. I've heard them say many a time that if it hadn't been for us they'd have been in Paris long ago and maybe in London."

"I guess they were pretty near right at that," remarked Frank.

"They surely were," agreed Billy. "Your Uncle Samuel came along just in the nick of time."

"But go ahead, Tom," urged Bart. "What did they do with you after that?"

"Just about the same, only more so," replied Tom, with a grin. "I was taken from one town to another until they finally settled down here. They seemed to find it a promising place to carry out their program of loot and murder. There was some pretty sharp street fighting here for a few days, and then the Spartacides got the upper hand and commenced killing some of their hostages. What you saw this morning has been going on for some time, only this was the biggest batch they have had yet. Going to make a grand wind-up as it were. They haven't spared the women, either. One of them was killed yesterday."

"The hounds!" gritted Frank between his teeth.



CHAPTER XXII

WILL THE GERMANS SIGN?

"It was a pitiful sight," said Tom, continuing the tale of his experience while a captive. "One of the women wanted to write a message of farewell to her husband and children. They gave her paper and pencil, and one of the guards offered his back to rest the paper on while she wrote. At about every sentence, the guard let himself fall down and the woman stumbled over him. It was great fun for the rest of the gang. They laughed as if it were a show. Oh, I tell you, the Huns are great humorists!"

The eyes of the Army Boys flashed.

"The unspeakable beasts!" cried Frank.

"It would be a good thing if a plague came along and snuffed out the whole nation!" angrily exclaimed Bart.

"It might be a good thing for the rest of the world," agreed Tom. "And, by the way, speaking of plague, I don't know but what it's on the way even now. In one or two of the places I've been in there's a mysterious something that's killing off the people like sheep. I've heard the guards talking about it. Nobody seems to know what it is and the doctors themselves are all at sea. Only yesterday one of the guards was taken with it. Big husky fellow he was too, and yet in a couple of hours he was dead. Seems to work as quickly as the cholera and to be just as deadly. I hope it doesn't hit the American Army."

"It has hit it already," replied Frank soberly. "There's quite a lot of our boys in Coblenz who have died of it, and the officers are all up in the air about it. The medical staff is at its wit's end. I tell you, it's getting to be a mighty big problem."

"I wish we were out of the hoodooed country!" exclaimed Bart savagely. "The whole land seems to rest under a curse. When on earth will that treaty be signed so that we can go back to the States?"

"The Germans say that they're not going to sign it if it proves to be as severe as is reported," remarked Tom. "I've heard that said on every side."

"'They say' they're not," sneered Billy. "What does their 'they say' amount to? Nothing at all. They said they'd never stop fighting, and they lay down like dogs. They said we'd never step on the sacred soil of Germany, but there wasn't a peep out of them when we marched over the Rhine. They're the biggest bluffers and the quickest quitters in the world."

"When are we going back to Coblenz?" asked Tom.

"In a hurry to get back are you?" laughed Frank. "Well, I don't blame you, old man. Billy tells me that Alice has been crying her pretty eyes out ever since you disappeared. But I suppose we'll have to hang around here for a few days yet. There's a lot to be done in cleaning out the Spartacides and getting the town in proper condition. The lieut. won't go back till he's finished the job. But you needn't worry, for by this time he's telephoned the whole thing over to Coblenz, and the authorities there know that you're safe and sound. It's a safe bet that Alice has already learned the good news."

Frank's conjecture turned out to be correct, for it was nearly a week before the lieutenant concluded that his work in the town was done. Then the column took up its march in a jubilant mood, for their comrade, who was a prime favorite in the regiment, had been rescued and the work had been done in the deft and finished way that marked the traditions of the American Army.

Tom and Billy slipped away as soon as they could obtain leave after they reached the city, and there was not any doubt in any one's mind as to their destination. Nor on their return to the barracks that night, bubbling over with glee and high spirits, was there any question but that their visit had been a thoroughly satisfactory one. If traces of his captivity were still visible in Tom's rather hollow cheeks and shrunken waistband, they had entirely disappeared from his manner.

His comrades had of course told him of their adventure in connection with the trap door, and he was all agog with interest in their recital of their battle with the rats, scars of whose bites were still visible as evidence if any had been necessary.

"It must have been some fight!" he remarked, with a touch of envy. "Gee! I'd like to have been with you. Too bad, though, that you didn't find out what you went after. Of course you're not going to give it up?"

"You bet your life we're not!" answered Frank emphatically. "Give it up isn't in our dictionary. We're going to search that place again, rats or no rats, only the next time we'll have clubs and be ready for them."

"That's the way to talk!" cried Tom. "That'll give me a chance to get in on the game."

"I don't know that the rats will trouble us next time," put in Billy. "You'll remember that it was only after we got past that place where the light was that we came across them in any numbers. Their stamping ground seemed to be further on."

"That seems likely enough," agreed Bart. "The light being there showed that somebody had been using the passage without hindrance. We simply had the hard luck to get in the quarter where the rats were thickest. At any rate, well take another chance."

That chance was not as soon in coming as they had hoped for, however, for Coblenz was now seething with unrest. The disorders that were prevalent all over Germany were manifesting themselves in the region of the Rhine. Scarcely a day passed without an outrage of some kind being reported. Several American soldiers were found stabbed in the street by unknown assassins. Agitators from Berlin were slipping into the city and trying to stir up insurrection. It was feared that the sharp lesson given on a previous occasion would have to be repeated.

Strikes were called in various industries, and sullen knots of idle men, ripe for mischief, were in evidence everywhere. When they were dispersed by military patrols, it was only to gather in some other place.



CHAPTER XXIII

ON THE VERGE OF DISCOVERY

In view of the menacing situation and the black looks and muttered curses that were thrown at the Americans who were policing the city, military regulations were tightened. Leaves of absence were either forbidden or greatly curtailed, and the Army Boys found themselves confined to their barracks when not actually on service. So the projected trip to the alley had to be deferred.

Weeks passed by and lengthened into months. Winter had disappeared and spring had come, bringing with it soft breezes and verdant fields and budding flowers and clothing the valley of the Rhine in beauty.

It was a welcome change to the Army Boys, who had chafed over the forced inaction and abstention from outdoor sports caused by the severe winter. Now most of the time off duty was spent in the open, and baseball and other games made the banishment from home seem less of a hardship. Company teams were organized and there was a good deal of healthy rivalry between the various nines. The Army Boys were expert players, and the work they did on the diamond speedily placed their nine in the lead.

But underneath all their work and fun lay the longing for home. They were in an alien country, among a people that hated them, a people bitter from defeat and eager for revenge.

They flung themselves down on the river bank one afternoon to rest after an unusually exciting game of ball when they had just managed to nose out their opponents in the ninth inning.

"Beautiful river, isn't it?" remarked Frank, his eyes following the windings of the Rhine, visible there for many miles in either direction.

"Oh, the country's pretty enough," conceded Bart grudgingly. "It's the people in it that I object to."

"'Where every prospect pleases, And only man is vile,'"

quoted Billy.

"I wish the Paris Conference would get busy and finish up that treaty," observed Frank impatiently. "What in heck keeps them dawdling so long over it?"

"It's like a sewing circle," grumbled Bart. "There's a lot of talk and mighty little work done."

"We'll be doddering old men by the time they get through," added Tom.

"Time seems to be no object with them," commented Billy.

"Of course," admitted Frank, "I suppose there's an awful lot to do. The world's been ripped wide open by these pesky Huns, and it's some job to sew it up again. Still it does seem that they ought to hustle things a good deal more than they are doing. I'm anxious to shake the dust of Germany from my feet forever."

"What's the latest you've heard about the peace terms?" Billy inquired.

"Oh, Germany's going to get hers, all right," replied Frank grimly. "She's had her dance, and now she's going to pay the piper. She's going to lose her colonies, for one thing. She won't have a single foot of land outside of Germany itself, and a lot of that's going to be cut away from her, too. Alsace-Lorraine of course goes back to France. Schleswig, that Bismarck stole, will be given to Denmark. The Poles will get part of East and West Prussia, Posen and Silesia. The coal mines in the Sarre Basin go to France, to make up for the destruction of French coal mines at Lens. Germany's got to give back ton for ton the shipping sunk by her submarines. She must yield up all her aircraft, and can keep an army of only one hundred thousand men. Then, too, she'll have to fork over a little trifle of forty or fifty billion dollars, an amount that will keep her nose to the grindstone for the next thirty years. Oh, yes, Germany will pay the piper all right."

"It isn't enough," said Bart curtly.

"No," put in Billy. "She's getting off too easily. That's only sticking a knife in hen. They ought to twist the knife around."

"Even with all that," declared Tom, "she won't begin to pay for all the misery and death she caused. But what are they going to do with the Kaiser?" he continued. "Have you heard about that?"

"Oh, they're talking about yanking him out of Holland and putting him on trial," answered Frank; "but it's a gamble if they really will. He's such a skulking cowardly figure just now that perhaps it wouldn't be well to try him. It might dignify him too much, make a martyr of him. They may let him and the Crown Prince stay where they are. There's no telling."

"Well," remarked Tom, as they rose to their feet and started toward the barracks, "whatever the terms, I only hope they'll hurry them up and let us get back to the States."

A week of comparative quiet followed, and the situation in Coblenz seemed to be well in hand. That is, as far as disturbances were concerned. The mysterious disease, however, still seemed to be uncurbed, despite all the efforts of the medical staff.

Military restrictions now were somewhat relaxed. Leaves of absence were more easily obtained, but it was some time before the Army Boys were able to arrange things so that all their leaves fell on the same night.

That time came at last, however, and they started out soon after nightfall with the determination once for all to solve the mystery of the alley. The night was extremely dark, and as the moon would not rise till late they had comparatively little difficulty in seizing an opportunity when the street was practically deserted to slip into the alley unobserved.

Their task was rendered easier by the fact that there was no longer ice to hinder their raising of the trap door. It creaked under the straining of their arms, but it yielded, and, using the utmost caution, they descended into the yawning chasm.

They had provided themselves with stout sticks that they felt sure would enable them to ward off any attack by rats, though they devoutly hoped that these would not be needed. Nor were they, for Billy's conjecture that the part infested by them was beyond the lighted corridor proved correct.

With the stealth of Indians they moved along the narrow passage, darting glances into every opening that seemed to branch off from the main corridor. For some time nothing greeted their eyes but impenetrable blackness, and they began to think that either the light had been extinguished or that they had inadvertently passed it by.

"Hist!" came from Billy's lips, and they halted.

"There it is," he said in a low tone.

They clustered about him as he pointed to the left. There, sure enough, was the electric bulb glowing, and behind it the outline of a door. Turning into the passage and inwardly thankful that as yet no rats had been encountered, they made their way toward the light.

The door, as revealed by the light, was of heavy oak. There was no crack or crevice in it anywhere. Standing close to the door they listened intently for any sound from the other side. Everything was absolutely quiet. All that they could hear was their own excited breathing.

Frank put his hand on the knob of the door and flashed a look of mute inquiry at his comrades. They nodded understandingly, and inch by inch Frank noiselessly drew the door open.

There was no light in the room beyond, but a ray from the electric bulb outside fell on a row of bottles and retorts that indicated a chemical laboratory.

Frank had drawn his flashlight from his section pocket and was about to turn it upon the room, when suddenly the room became radiant with a perfect flood of light. At the same time there was the sound of a quick step in the hall beyond the room, the click of a door knob, and Frank had just time to push the heavy oaken door nearly to, when the further door opened and a man came into the room.

Through the crack of the door Frank caught a glimpse of the man's face and started back in surprise.



CHAPTER XXIV

THE DEADLY PHIAL

It was the famous physician, the man whose hate for Americans was so notorious, the man with whom they had already had unpleasant encounters, the man who had so often shot venomous looks at Frank and his comrades as they passed and yet who of late had worn an air so jubilant.

It was his house then to which this mysterious passage afforded secret entrance, that entrance which the Army Boys had felt sure was used by conspirators and assassins. What did it all mean?

The doctor approached one of the retorts in which some concoction was bubbling and examined it carefully, reducing the heat a little as he glanced at the thermometer. Then he walked over to a row of phials on one of the shelves and handled them almost caressingly. One of them he pressed with an almost rapturous gesture to his breast, at the same time breaking out in a strain of mingled eulogy and denunciation. The eulogy seemed to be for the phial, the denunciation for the "accursed Americans," which phrase Frank heard him repeat several times.

The doctor then replaced the phials on the shelf and picked up an evening paper printed in German that was lying on a chair. He looked over the headlines which ran all the way across the page, and indulged in a chuckle. He read the article through, then threw down the paper and walked to and fro in the room, rubbing his hands and evidently in the highest spirits.

The paper had been thrown down in such a way that Frank could plainly see the flaring headlines. They ran thus:

"MYSTERIOUS DISEASE STILL UNABATED More Americans Stricken."

This then accounted for the doctor's elation. Frank's eye glanced from the paper to the phial and back again to the paper.

Suddenly a terrible conviction struck him with the force of a blow.

At that moment a bell rang somewhere outside. The doctor stopped in his pacing, listened a moment, and then with a gesture of impatience strode to the door and passed out into the hall, closing the door after him.

Like a flash, Frank was in the room and had possessed himself of the mysterious phial. Then he was back again among his companions, who had gazed after him in wonder.

"Quick!" he directed as he closed the heavy door. "Back to the alley as fast as we can."

"What's the big idea, Frank?" asked Bart, as the boys hurried after their leader.

"Can't stop to talk about it now, old fellow. Tell you later what I think I've stumbled on. I think I know now what my hunch meant. I'm streaking it straight for headquarters as fast as my legs will carry me."

Bart saw how wrought up he was, and followed him without further questioning.

Straight to his captain Frank hastened and told his story. He had not finished before the captain sent out hastily for others higher in authority. Then Frank, often interrupted by excited questioning, narrated every detail of the night's discovery. The phial was handed over to the chief medical officer, and Frank, after hearty commendation, was bidden to hold himself ready for call at a moment's notice.

He hurried off to the barracks, where his comrades were eagerly awaiting him. To them he poured out all he knew and suspected.

That night and the next day witnessed busy scenes at the headquarters of the medical staff. The contents of the phial were analysed and justified Frank's suspicions. A force was organized in which the Army Boys were included to seize the arch-plotter. It would have been possible to have entered his house from the front, but the broad street on which it stood was a thoroughfare thronged with people at night, and in order to avoid possible riot and attempt at rescue it was deemed best to enter from the trap door in the alley.

As soon as it was fully dark, the detachment was set in motion. Sentries were posted on either side of the alley to prevent any one from entering, and one by one the arresting party swept down through the passage from the alley and they made their way, with Frank as guide, to the oaken door. Here they paused and listened.

Far from being empty, as on the night before, there were sounds in the room that amounted almost to tumult. Loud exclamations were interspersed with bursts of laughter. The main note seemed to be approval. Some one who aroused the enthusiasm of his hearers was speaking.

Slowly, very slowly, Lieutenant Winter, who was in charge, drew the door open by imperceptible degrees. It was the doctor himself who was holding forth, almost with frenzy. His gestures were wild and his words came so fast as to make his speech almost incoherent.

But the listeners caught enough from that wild torrent of words to know that their darkest suspicions were more than justified. The man was gloating over his wickedness, over the deaths that had already resulted, and the deaths he hoped to cause through his diabolical discovery.

He stopped at length, and others in the party had their turn. Here was something beyond what the raiding party had looked for. They had stumbled upon a nest of conspirators who, in their way, as the doctor in his, were deadly enemies of society in general and the Americans in particular.

Through this secret passage into the alley, for how long none of them knew, these desperate men had been going to and fro, avoiding attention and hatching in the doctor's office a plot that had kept the entire zone of the American Army of Occupation in a state of unrest. The proof was all-sufficient, and the conspirators were weaving the noose for their own necks.

The lieutenant lifted his hand, swung the door wide open, and, followed by his men, rushed into the room.



CHAPTER XXV

THE TREATY SIGNED

It was a scene of wild confusion. Men jumped from their seats with shouts and execrations. One man leaped for the electric switch to turn out the light, but Frank reached him at a bound and felled him to the floor. Pistols were drawn, but the doughboys knocked them out of the conspirators' hands, and in a twinkling had the men gripped and powerless.

The doctor crammed some papers into his mouth with the evident intention of swallowing them, but Tom's sinewy hands were at his throat and choked them out.

It was all over in a few moments. The surprise had been so great that resistance was futile. The baffled conspirators stood huddled together, disarmed, and under guard.

The doctor's rage was fearful as his eyes rested on Frank, for whom he had cherished bitter enmity since their first encounter, and who he felt instinctively was the cause of his undoing.

The lieutenant gave a few curt commands and the prisoners were led out through the passage, secret no longer, and conveyed under guard to American headquarters.

Here a number of leading American officers had gathered to await the results of the raid. The prisoners were remanded for examination on the morrow, with the exception of the doctor, who was brought at once before the tribunal and sternly questioned.

At first he remained stubbornly silent, refusing to say a word. Then the crumpled papers that he had attempted to swallow were opened and read.

They proved to be the formulas relating to the deadly germs contained in the phials. Step by step the process was described. The proof was positive and overwhelming. But most important of all was the setting down of the antidote that would neutralize the effect of the germs.

The doctor's face during the reading of the papers was a study in emotions. Rage, disappointment, hate succeeded one another. Upon the faces of his judges the prevalent expression was one of horror, tempered somewhat by the relief afforded by the knowledge that the antidote was within their reach.

Being asked if he had anything to say, the doctor at last broke his stubborn silence. Denial was impossible. The game was up. There was nothing to gain by repressing his feelings, and he broke out in a wild tirade.

Yes, he said, it was true that he had discovered and isolated this deadly germ and had made numberless cultures of it to be spread broadcast. He boasted of it. He gloried in it. He had already killed many of the hated Americans, and if he had been given time he would have swept the whole American Army of Occupation off the face of the earth. It was true that he had not confined his operations to the Americans alone. He had sought revenge on his own cowardly countrymen who had yielded supinely and permitted the Americans to occupy the fairest districts of Germany. He had offered his deadly discovery to the German commanders before the armistice was signed, but either through doubts of its value or fear that their own troops would share in the contagion they had refused to make use of it. Then his rage had turned against countrymen and foes alike. Like Caligula, he had wished that the whole human race had but a single head so that he might cut it off with one blow. He would have done it, too, if this accursed young American—

Here he made a savage lunge at Frank, and there was a terrific struggle before he was overpowered by the guards. He fought with the strength of a maniac, which indeed he was, for the wild rage under which he labored had reached its climax in the overturning of his reason. He was dragged away, struggling, fighting, and foaming at the mouth.

There was unmeasured joy and relief at American headquarters that night, for the shadow of the plague that had hung over the army for months was lifted and the remedy was known. Frank and his comrades came in for praise and commendation that made their faces glow, and it was promised that promotion and crosses of honor would be a reward and recognition of their splendid work.

And now the date had been set for the signing of the Peace Treaty. Germany was at white heat in protest against the terms. She swore that she would never sign. She raged like a wild beast that had been caught in a trap. With characteristic treachery she sank the interned fleet at Scapa Flow. A mob burned the French flags in Berlin, of which the treaty demanded the surrender. Sign the treaty? Never! Never!

The Americans were ready on the instant to march toward Berlin. Twenty-four hours before the time set for signing, tanks, airplanes, guns and men poured over the Rhine. If the Germans wanted more fighting they could have it. If they did not sign the treaty at Versailles, they would be compelled to sign it in Berlin. The guns were ready to thunder, the men ready to charge.

The Germans saw those preparations and wilted. Their boasting changed to whining.

On June the twenty-eighth they signed the treaty. The war was over!

And when that night the booming of guns at Coblenz told that the treaty had been signed, the Army Boys hugged each other in delight at the knowledge that their work was done and that now they were free to go back home!

"Hurrah!" cried Billy in wild jubilation.

"Back to the States!" shouted Bart.

"Three cheers for Old Glory!" exclaimed Tom.

"And a tiger," added Frank. "Well, fellows, our work is over. Our boys came over here to! whip the Hun. They did it. They came over to help win the war. They did it. The job is done, and now we Army Boys can go back in triumph to God's country!"

THE END