"What can we do to the Germans, Dubois?" asked Leon curiously.

"We can play a trick on them. What's the use in allowing them to have all the fun?"

"But what do you intend to do?"

"I will show you presently. First of all I want a long piece of stout twine. I shall need a whole ball of it I guess."

"What are you going to do with it?" demanded Leon.

"You will see very soon," said Dubois evasively. "I must get the twine before we do anything else."

He made his way along the trench to the spot where the field telephone had been installed and had a message sent back for the next courier who came out to their position to bring with him a ball of strong string.

"I wish you'd tell us what your plans are," said Earl when Dubois had rejoined him and his twin brother.

"You will know in good time," said Dubois. "If I were to tell you now you would try to restrain me. You would say I was foolish."

"Are you going over to the German trenches?" demanded Leon.

"Wait and see," smiled Dubois.

"Well all I can say is that if you try a thing like that you are crazy," exclaimed Leon warmly. "You saw how much good Armande's expedition did and what happened to him."

"I knew you'd object to my plan," said Dubois.

"Then you admit that you are going over to their trenches?"

"I didn't say so. Let's not talk about it any more."

Although both boys tried hard they were unable to draw Dubois into further conversation concerning his project. The talk finally drifted into other channels and the Frenchman's plans, whatever they were, were finally forgotten.

"Who was looking for a ball of twine?" asked a voice about a half-hour later. "Who was it that wanted the string?"

The voice seemed strangely familiar to the ears of both Leon and Earl. They peered eagerly through the darkness to see if they could discover the identity of the speaker. All they could see was the faint outline of some soldier's figure. The man, whoever it was, had a bandage tied around his face.

"Did anyone here want twine?" he asked again.

"Jacques!" cried Leon eagerly. "What are you doing here?"

"Leon, is it you?" demanded Jacques, for it was the daring young Frenchman who had returned. "Where is Earl?"

"Right here," exclaimed that individual briskly. "But what are you doing back here so soon?"

"Why shouldn't I come back?"

"But you were wounded."

"Merely a scratch. The silly old doctors wanted me to remain in the base hospital for a day or two but that is ridiculous."

"You are reckless, Jacques," said Leon reprovingly. "Still I am awfully glad to see you again."

"Who wants this twine?" asked Jacques. "When I started back they gave it to me to bring out to some one in this trench who had telephoned in for it."

"I want it."

"Who are you?"

"Dubois."

"Ah, Dubois. What use can you have for string?"

"Let me have it and I'll soon show you."

Jacques handed the twine over to Dubois, who immediately unwound a small section of it and tested its strength.

"That is fine," he murmured approvingly. "Now for the fun."

Without waiting a moment longer he placed the ball of string in his pocket and climbed out of the trench. He did not even take his gun with him. His companions were too surprised by his strange actions to offer any objection and he had disappeared into the darkness almost before they were aware of it.

"Well," exclaimed Leon. "What do you think of that crazy man?"

"Where's he going?" asked Jacques, puzzled by the actions of his friend.

"Over to the German trenches I think."

"What for?"

"To get killed I guess," said Leon. "I don't see what else it can be."

"He must have some object I should think," said Jacques. "Wouldn't he tell you what it was?"

"No, he wouldn't," answered Earl. "It has something to do with a bell though I'm sure," and he related the story of Armande's adventure.

"Perhaps he's going to try to fix it so it won't ring any more," suggested Jacques. "He's not afraid of anything you know."

"It's not a question of being afraid," said Leon warmly. "It's a question of using good common sense."

The three boys waited anxiously for the return of their comrade but the moments passed and he did not reappear. The firing had been fitful all through the night; the steady booming of the big cannon being broken by an occasional burst of machine-gun fire.

"He'll never come back I'm afraid," said Earl slowly after the lapse of half an hour.

"Don't give up yet," exclaimed Jacques. "He may return."

"I'd like to know why he went," said Lean. "Why was he so mysterious?"

At this moment, however, Dubois suddenly reappeared and clambered back into the trench.

"Dubois!" cried Leon eagerly. "Where have you been?"

"Over to see Fritzie," chuckled Dubois gayly. "Fritzie" was the name by which the French and English sometimes referred to the Germans.

"Are you hurt?" demanded Leon.

"Hurt?" echoed Dubois. "I never felt better."

"What have you been doing?"

"I'll show you in just a moment," and Dubois busied himself with something he held in his hands. It was too dark for his companions to make out just what he was doing.

After a few moments the reckless Frenchman turned to his friends. His preparations, whatever they were, evidently were complete.

"Now for the fun," he exclaimed. "Listen!"

He made a quick motion with his right arm as though he were jerking something. From across the battlefield came the faint sound of a bell. Almost instantly followed the sharp rattle of many machine-guns being fired at once.

"Hear that?" demanded Dubois enthusiastically. "Isn't that great?"

"What are you doing?" asked Leon curiously. "You don't mean to say that you made that bell ring."

"Oh, is that so?" exclaimed Dubois gleefully. "I'll show you again as soon as they stop that noise over there."

Gradually the fire from the German trenches died down and the front regained its former state of comparative quiet. Once again Dubois jerked his arm and again came the sound of the bell, followed by the sudden burst of machine-gun and rifle fire.

"Dubois! What have you got there?" demanded Earl.

"A string," said Dubois almost beside himself with laughter.

"That ball of twine I brought out?" asked Earl.

"Yes," said Dubois. "That's the one."

"And you sneaked out and tied it to that bell?" demanded Leon.

"Well not exactly to the bell," replied Dubois. "I tied it to the wire right along side the bell though; it serves the same purpose."

Again he pulled the string and the previous performance instantly was repeated. The bell rang and the Germans fired violently. Dubois was delighted beyond all comprehension with his exploit, and the evident nervousness of the enemy every time the bell sounded amused him immensely.

"You're a dare-devil," exclaimed Leon. "You took an awful chance just to have a little fun with the Germans."

"It's not a little fun," Dubois corrected him. "It's a lot of fun."

Many of their comrades gathered around him to see the performance and at intervals all through the remainder of the night the men amused themselves by ringing the bell and startling the Germans. Along towards morning Leon gave the string a vicious tug but no bell sounded and the twine seemed not to be attached to anything.

"One of their bullets has cut the string," said Dubois ruefully. "Our fun is over for the present I'm afraid."



CHAPTER XI

RELIEVED

The following day the French did not try to push their advantage any farther nor did the Germans launch an attack to recover their lost positions. Both sides seemed worn out by their great exertions and were apparently content to allow matters to remain as they were, for the present at least.

The big gun duel still continued but it had lost its intensity and the infantry fighting came almost to a standstill. The men complained of the inaction, for the life in the trenches was monotonous with but little to vary it. They were constantly on the alert and always prepared to meet any surprise attack of the enemy but there was but little for the men to do.

"I don't like it," said Dubois peevishly one day. "It is getting on my nerves."

"This quiet life I suppose you mean?" laughed Leon sarcastically.

"Exactly."

"I don't call that very quiet," exclaimed Leon as one of the German's huge shells sped over their heads with the roar and rattle of an express train. They could hear it explode several miles away with a sound as if some one had dropped a large plank upon a pile of lumber.

"But we're not doing anything," objected Dubois.

"We're alive anyway," said Earl. "That's something."

"But why don't they launch a great big offensive and drive these Germans out of our country?" demanded Dubois. "Just sitting here in the trenches is not going to free France."

"Remember this, Dubois," Jacques reminded his impulsive countryman. "It takes thousands of guns and millions of shells to make the kind of an attack you are talking about."

"Haven't we got them?"

"Not yet, I'm afraid. General Joffre won't send his men out until he has sufficient backing for them either."

"Well if we haven't got enough guns and ammunition," persisted Dubois, "why don't we hurry up and get them?"

"It takes time," smiled Leon. "You can't build factories and teach people how to manufacture powder and shells over night, you know."

"Germany seems to have enough," said Dubois.

"Yes," agreed Leon, "but they have been preparing for this war for a long time. Russia, France and England were caught napping."

"What would they have done if it had not been for the United States?" demanded Earl breaking into the conversation. "We've sent millions of dollars' worth of stuff to the Allies."

"Tell me about that," exclaimed Dubois. "Is America sending supplies to Germany too?"

"Practically none, I guess," said Earl.

"But why not? Is it neutral for a country to sell to one side and not to the other?"

"America would sell to Germany just the same as to Russia, France, and England," said Earl. "The trouble is that Germany can't get the stuff into her country."

"Because of the English fleet?"

"Exactly. The English fleet has swept the German navy off the ocean. The only place left for them is the Baltic."

"That's wonderful, isn't it?" exclaimed Dubois.

"Yes, it is, and most people don't give England half the credit she deserves for that. Just because her fleet doesn't fight a battle every day and do a lot of grandstand work people think it isn't doing anything important. In my opinion it has won the biggest victory of the whole war so far."

"By keeping the German fleet bottled up you mean?" asked Jacques.

"That's it," said Earl decidedly. "Take the English fleet away and let the German warships come out of their hole and see what would happen to the Allies!"

"What would happen?" inquired Dubois.

"Well first of all they'd stop the shipment of all supplies for us from America. Think what that would mean. Then again they'd soon starve out England and she wouldn't be able to send any more soldiers over here to France."

"They haven't sent so many anyway," muttered Dubois.

"Yes," agreed Earl, "but they're sending them now all right. England only had a small army at the beginning of the war and it takes time to make a good soldier just as it takes time to make a good anything else. They'll send plenty of men, don't you worry, and I feel sure there are a good many more here right now than you have any idea of."

"Probably," agreed Dubois. "At any rate they helped us a lot at the beginning of the war when the Boches were driving us on the run back towards Paris."

"Then you think it's all right for the United States to sell supplies to the Allies and not to Germany?" asked Jacques. "I must say that I am glad that is what they are doing anyway."

"Certainly it is all right," exclaimed Earl. "It is permitted by international law and every nation in the world has done the same thing at some time or another. Just because this happens to be the biggest war in the history of the world and because as a result the United States is selling more supplies, doesn't change the facts, does it? As I said, we'd sell to Germany just as quickly as to the Allies. Because they can't get the stuff isn't our fault."

"Yea, Earl, you're quite a speechmaker," cried his brother gleefully.

"Isn't what I said true?" demanded Earl.

"Of course it is. Why if we refused to sell to the Allies now that would mean that we were actively on the side of Germany and nothing we could do would be of greater help to her just now."

The order was passed along the trench that the regiment was to retire and their places were to be taken by fresh troops. The prospect of reaching a place where the enemy's shells would not be roaring around their ears was a pleasant one to many of the men; the strain of the first line trenches is a heavy one for any man. Others however were displeased, for they had no wish to be absent during any possible fighting.

"The idea of being able to take a bath appeals to me," exclaimed Leon eagerly when he heard of the order. "I am certainly dirty."

"We all are that," laughed Jacques, "but what do you expect? A man can't roll around in the smoke and dirt the way we have the last few days and not get dirty."

"We haven't had our clothes off either," said Earl.

"Just suppose the people at home could see what we look like," chuckled Leon. "They'd disown us, I'm afraid."

Many of the soldiers in the trench with these three young soldiers—for Dubois was considerably older than they—had grown beards. These were caked with mud and the long unkempt hair and soiled uniforms of the men gave them a very ferocious appearance. Many of us have thought of most Frenchmen as little fellows but these men were great strapping, brawny giants. As to size and strength they compared equally if not favorably with the Germans.

A short time later the relief regiment arrived and the men who had won and held the new French front gave way to the newcomers. They filed out of the first-line trench and entering the communicating trench made their way back. Several miles they walked, and many a man had long thoughts as he recalled their last march through these trenches when they were headed the other way.

Finally they emerged from the trenches into the open road. It seemed good to feel the solid earth under their feet once more and to be able to walk along across the fields. What a relief after being shut in by the steep sides of the trenches for so long.

The roads were crowded with troops and vehicles of all descriptions. Great motor-trucks rolled by in an endless procession. Both sides of the road were crowded with them. On one side they went towards the trenches, loaded to their utmost capacity with shot and shell with which to feed the hungry cannon. Across the road they were returning empty.

A regiment of hussars passed, looking very smart in their uniforms and plumed hats. Their mounts were newly groomed and sleek. A great cloud of dust arose from the horses' hoofs and the infantry drew aside to let them pass. Close behind the cavalry came a swift motor-car. Everything on the highway drew back to furnish a lane for the speeding automobile which fairly seemed to fly along the ground.

As it passed, Jacques suddenly grasped Leon by the arm.

"Did you see who was in that car?" he demanded.

"No. Who was it?"

"That was President Poincare, president of France."



CHAPTER XII

IN REVIEW

The speeding car was lost in a cloud of dust and soon disappeared.

"Are you sure that was President Poincare?" asked Leon.

"I am sure of it," replied Jacques. "I have seen him several times before."

"What do you suppose he is doing here?"

"On a tour of inspection probably. He visits the front frequently."

The tired soldiers swung along the road, their ranks thinner than they had been a few days before. Many a brave son of France had marched to his death when the douzieme had filed down into the trenches to lead the offensive a short time previous. That the regiment was held in high esteem, however, was proved by the fact that many a cheer went up as soon as its battle-scarred standard was recognized.

At length they reached the village where their headquarters had been established and every man was assigned a place in which he was to live. Leon, Jacques, Earl, and Dubois found themselves together in the loft of a barn. Five rude cots, with mattresses far from soft, were placed there for them to sleep on.

"Five bunks and only four of us," remarked Earl. "I wonder who is going to use the extra bed."

"Don't call that thing a bed," laughed Leon. "I wouldn't insult a bed."

"That's all right," exclaimed Earl. "It looks pretty good to me after the trenches. At any rate I can sleep on anything."

"So can I," agreed Leon quickly. "Don't think I'm complaining. I'd like to know who is going to use the other bunk though."

"Turn around and you'll see," said Dubois.

His three companions followed his bidding and a shout of welcome went up to the newcomer. He limped slightly but there was a grin on his face and he appeared to be very happy.

"Armande!" cried Dubois joyfully. "I am glad to see you."

He rushed up to his comrade and following the French custom, kissed him on both cheeks.

Jacques did the same but Leon and Earl, though they were not less glad to see their friend, contented themselves with welcoming him with a hearty handshake.

"How is your leg?" inquired Jacques solicitously.

"As sound as ever," exclaimed Armande quickly. He tried to execute a few dance steps to show his friends how well his wound had healed, but his leg sank under him and a shadow of pain crossed his face.

"Be careful," said Leon anxiously. "Don't try anything like that yet."

"I guess it is not as well as I thought," admitted Armande with a wry smile. "It will be sound soon though."

The five soldiers soon made themselves perfectly at home in their rude quarters and enjoyed themselves thoroughly. A few days of rest worked wonders with them and with all the others in their regiment. At the end of a week the men were clamoring to be sent back into the trenches.

Daily drills were held to keep the troops in good physical condition and the men indulged in all kinds of sports during their leisure hours. Thousands and thousands of soldiers were concentrated in and around this town and so wonderful was the French organization that they could be shifted to any part of the long battle line almost at a moment's notice. There seemed to be an endless supply of equipment as well as of men and no longer could France say that she was unprepared. The whole question now was whether she was prepared enough to undertake the great offensive the soldiers knew was coming some time.

One day, at noontime, came the word that that afternoon there was to be a review of all the troops stationed thereabouts.

"Who is going to review us, do you suppose?" asked Earl of Armande who now had recovered entirely from his bullet wound.

"I don't know," replied Armande. "I don't like these reviews anyway. For my part I'd much rather do some actual fighting."

"I guess you'd rather fight than anything else, wouldn't you?" said Earl laughingly.

"I certainly would," exclaimed Armande. "At least I would as long as these Boches are in France. When they are driven out I want to go back to my little farm and never hear the sound of another gun as long as I live."

"I hope you may be able to do that soon," said Earl fervently.

"If I am still alive."

"We'll hope for the best," said Earl simply.

"Suppose I am killed," exclaimed Armande. "What difference will it make? I shall die for my country and what happier death is there than to die for France?"

"If everyone else feels the same way I don't see how France can be beaten," remarked Earl, much impressed by the fervor of the impulsive Frenchman.

"Of course she can't be beaten," cried Armande, "and of course everyone feels as I do. Just as surely as the sun will rise to-morrow France is going to come out victorious in this war. They can hold some of our land for a time but they can't kill our spirit. The spirit of France will live forever and it is spirit that wins; it is unconquerable and it will never give in until justice and right rule once more in Europe."

"Vive la France!" cried Jacques lustily. He had been sitting on the edge of one of the bunks attentively listening to the foregoing conversation.

"Vive la France!" echoed Earl and the rafters of the ramshackle old barn shook with the violence of the cheer.

"Inspection is at two and the review at three," Dubois reminded his comrades when they had settled down to a normal state again.

"Then we haven't much time, have we?" exclaimed Leon. "Let's get ready."

At two o'clock, to the second, the douzieme infantry was lined up for inspection. Every man's uniform had been cleaned, his shoes polished and his rifle oiled and rubbed. They all wore the steel helmets adopted by the army since the outbreak of the war; these light metal head coverings had saved many a life and prevented many a wound. In the trench warfare the majority of the wounds are apt to be in the head, for that is all that shows to the enemy; consequently the steel helmets had proved themselves most useful.

A short time later the regiment marched off down the road towards the large open plain where the review was to be held. From all directions came other troops all heading towards the same spot. Bands played and the scene was indeed a gala one. Few dress uniforms were to be seen however. Occasionally some high officer, resplendent in gold lace, whirred past in his motor-car, but as a rule the troops all wore their service uniforms.

On one edge of the plain the douzieme halted. Regiments filed by, some on foot and some on horseback; batteries of field artillery rattled past. A murmur of approval swept along the line as the men recognized the famous 75-millimeter guns, the best field artillery in the world. These guns were the pride of the French army.

At length the douzieme swung into place and preceded by thousands and followed by thousands it swept along. As far as the eye could see in front and behind appeared a forest of rifles, the keen-edged bayonets gleaming in the sun. It was a most impressive sight and one to inspire confidence. The grim-visaged men were not soldiers in name only but warriors in every sense of the word.

Far across the field marched the douzieme and passed along in front of those who were there to review it. The troops all held their guns at attention as they passed and were unable to catch a very clear glimpse of the little group of men who stood there. Five men stood out in front of the others however and from the corner of his eye Leon did his best to see who they were.

"That little man in the khaki suit was King George of England," he said to Jacques after the review was over and they had returned to their quarters. "I also recognized General Joffre, but who was the man with the brown mustache who stood next to King George?"

"Why that was Lord Kitchener," exclaimed Jacques.

"Who was the big man next to him? He was certainly fine looking."

"King Albert of Belgium," said Jacques in a surprised tone. "I should think you'd recognize him."

"It was stupid of me not to," admitted Leon. "Who was the short man in the frock coat and silk hat? He didn't look like a soldier to me."

"He isn't," laughed Jacques. "That was President Poincare; the man who passed us in the automobile the other day."

"Of course it was," exclaimed Leon. "Quite a distinguished gathering I should say."

At this moment Dubois entered the loft. He was evidently excited.

"Some of these fellows have been wanting excitement," he exclaimed, "and I guess they'll get it soon enough all right."

"What do you mean?" demanded Leon.

"Come with me and I'll soon show you," said Dubois.



CHAPTER XIII

A VOLUNTEER

The five soldiers hurried outdoors and cautioned by Dubois they stood together in a little group and listened intently.

"Guns," exclaimed Jacques.

"Guns?" echoed Dubois. "I should say there were; thousands of men. Just listen to that cannonade."

A steady roar came to the ears of the soldiers. Now and again it rose angrily only to sink down again to a low muttering. It did not cease for a moment however and the most inexperienced recruit could have told that a furious bombardment was taking place.

"That must be over ten miles away," said Dubois, "and yet just see how plainly we can hear it. We'll be in that soon."

"You think so?" asked Leon.

"I'm sure of it; they'll begin to move up reserves pretty quick."

"Who's doing all that firing, do you think?"

"The Germans. They are going to counter-attack and try to win back the positions we took away from them ten days ago."

"Do you know that for sure?"

"No, that's just my guess," said Dubois. "Of course I'm not sure."

"Well I don't believe that German guns are the only ones busy," exclaimed Earl with a grim smile.

"No, indeed," agreed Dubois quickly. "We wouldn't just sit still and let them pound us to pieces."

At this moment a bugle sounded. Everyone stopped talking and listened intently; then they turned and hurried into their lodgings. From all directions men could be seen running in answer to the call and the camp was immediately all bustle and excitement. There was no confusion however; every man knew what he was to do and he did it.

"I told you!" exclaimed Dubois triumphantly. "I knew they'd have us out before much time had passed."

"It must be a terrible fight," remarked Leon, who was busily engaged in packing his equipment and taking a last look at his rifle.

"We'll make it so," said Armande fiercely. "Just let them try to get those positions away from us; we'll show them."

A few moments later the regiment was formed in line and without any delay the march was begun. Night was just falling as they set out. The men laughed and joked and sang, seemingly regardless of the danger into which they were going and the thought of possible death was apparently far from their minds.

As they proceeded the noise of the bombardment grew steadily louder. The very earth shook with the fury of it and far ahead could be seen an occasional flash from one of the star shells used to search out the enemy's positions.

"Do you suppose the infantry have attacked yet?" asked Earl of Jacques.

"I don't know how long the bombardment has been going on."

"They'll try to smash our trenches with their big guns before they send their infantry out, won't they?"

"Oh, I suppose so," said Jacques. "That's the usual way."

"Probably we'll arrive just in time to bear the whole weight of the attack," remarked Earl grimly.

They entered the trenches and mile after mile they progressed. The noise of the artillery made it almost impossible to talk now and but few attempts at conversation were made. Nearer and nearer to the front they came until presently they could distinguish the sharp rattle of the machine-guns above the roar of the cannon. At length they reached one of the large communicating trenches and there they halted.

"We're to be held as reserves," shouted Jacques in Leon's ear.

"What's that?" demanded Leon.

"We're to be held as reserves."

Leon nodded his head. No one made much of an attempt to talk. The men huddled together in the trench and listened to the furious artillery duel going on around them. Now and again a big shell would burst near the spot where they were stationed and once the five friends were spattered with dirt thrown up by a nearby explosion. The earth rocked and it seemed as if no man could endure the awful tumult that was going on.

The Germans were deluging the French trenches with a deadly hail of high explosive shells. They tried to cover every inch of the allied first line and even behind the front trenches they dropped a steady stream of giant projectiles.

Suddenly the artillery fire slackened.

"Now the infantry will charge," exclaimed Jacques.

"Poor fellows," muttered Leon.

"Yes," agreed Jacques; "not many of them will ever get past our rifles and machine guns."

"Or the seventy-fives," added Earl.

As they stood talking an officer approached.

"I want a man to volunteer for a very dangerous mission," he announced as he drew near. "Who will go?"

Immediately he was besieged on all sides by an excited crowd of men, every one of them eager and anxious to be the one selected. Needless to say Leon, Earl, Jacques, Armande and Dubois were among the first to offer themselves. The officer smiled as he saw how the men responded.

"I want only one," he said. "I can't use you all."

"Take me; take me," begged every man eagerly.

"I will select you," he said, and as he spoke he laid his hand on Jacques' shoulder. The rest of the men shrank back disappointedly.

"Come with me," directed the officer and he and Jacques walked rapidly away. Jacques had no conception what his mission was to he, but he was not particularly curious; he knew that he was to do something for France and he was satisfied.

Through the winding trenches they preceded until they reached the first line. Here the effects of the German bombardment were especially noticeable. In many places the parapets had been blown in and dead and wounded men were lying all about. Jacques and his conductor paid no attention to these things, however. They hurried along until they finally came to a portion of the trench which projected beyond the remainder of it. Jacques recalled it as the section which he and his companions had occupied when Dubois had tied the string to the Germans' bell.

Here they halted; the guns were roaring now as never before and it was with great difficulty that one made his voice heard.

"The Germans came out of their trenches once but we drove them back with our fire curtain," explained the officer.

"They'll try again though," remarked Jacques.

"Of course they will and that is why I want you here. Do you see that little mound out ahead there?"

"Yes," replied Jacques peering intently through the darkness.

"That is a shelter," said the officer.

"And you want me to go out there."

"Yes. You will find inside of it an electric switchboard; there is only one switch so you cannot possibly go wrong. When that switch is pushed down it connects with wires attached to a mine field. You are to go out to that shelter and wait until the German infantry reaches a spot one hundred feet in front of you; then you are to throw the switch. The mines will all explode and there'll be several less of the enemy left to attack us."

Jacques saluted and immediately began to crawl forward. A long narrow tunnel had been dug from the trenches to this position and through it the young soldier made his way without mishap.

Arriving at his goal he produced the flashlight the officer had slipped into his hands and looked about him. Sure enough, there was the switchboard and he felt no doubts about being able to carry out a part at least of his task. In the front of the shelter was a narrow slit. He pulled himself along to this and peered out.

Far ahead appeared the German trenches. The French shells were bursting all around them and the whole battlefield was a seething cauldron of flame. All at once he spied the German infantry. They emerged from their positions in good order and made ready to advance. Evidently they had decided that their bombardment had sufficiently devastated the French trenches and that the time to advance had arrived.

"Huh," snorted Jacques to himself. "If they only knew that our men are digging new trenches every minute and that every shell-hole has a machine-gun in it they wouldn't be in such a hurry to show themselves."

Such was indeed the case, but the Germans could not see the hidden peril. On they came. Spell-bound Jacques watched them. He had his hand on the switch but he was so nervous he decided to withdraw it for fear he should set it off too soon. A hundred feet away from him the officer had said the mines were planted. The Germans were over two hundred yards distant now.

Still they advanced. The French allowed them to come forward with but slight opposition until they reached a spot some two hundred yards away; then the rifles and machine-guns opened fire. The Germans were taken by surprise; Jacques could see them crouch low to the ground. He chuckled softly to himself at the sight.

They did not hesitate long, however. The order was passed along for them to advance and on they came. They began to sing, "The Watch on the Rhine," and dashed forward. The French guns of every caliber began to pour a perfect deluge of lead and steel upon the solid masses of the attackers.

"Why do they still use that massed formation?" muttered Jacques. "You might think they had men to waste."

Great gaps appeared in the German lines. Always they were closed up immediately, however. Like waves the Germans came on, line after line. Should a man fall, there was someone ready to step into his place and continue the advance. The slaughter was horrible, but still onward they pushed. It seemed as if they must succeed by sheer weight of numbers. Could they possibly be stopped?

Nearer and nearer they came. Jacques' heart was beating like a trip hammer. It seemed to him it must be heard even above the roar of the cannonade. He flashed his light on the switchboard. "Not yet," he told himself.

They were a hundred yards away now, but the mine field was only a hundred feet distant. He must wait. It was hard work, however, and brave as he was, the young soldier had all he could do to restrain himself. The bullets whined and whistled past his shelter; the big shells exploded with a deafening noise and still the Germans came on.

They seemed to falter once. The punishment being meted out to them by the French guns was cruel. They rallied instantly, however, and once more pushed forward. They were almost over the spot where the mines were buried now and Jacques set himself.



CHAPTER XIV

IN THE CHATEAU

Jacques' hand shook violently as he took hold of the switch. He peered out through the narrow slit in his shelter and saw the Germans through the opening, almost as if he was looking behind the curtain of a theater. Was now the time to set off the mine field? Not quite yet, he decided. Behind him he knew his comrades were expecting him to do his work right and he must not disappoint them.

It was a great responsibility that had been placed upon the shoulders of this young soldier. Jacques realized that fact and was determined to be true to his trust. Perhaps the safety of all that portion of the French line depended upon him alone.

Nearer came the Germans. Losses, appalling though they were, did not seem to hold them in check. They were almost over the spot now. Jacques set his jaw firmly and steeled himself to do his duty. It was for France he told himself. He had selected with his eye a spot which he had determined to be one hundred feet distant; when the Germans reached it he would throw the switch.

A few paces more and they would be over the mine field. On they came. The first rank had now reached the spot, but still Jacques waited. They were so near to him now that he could hear the hoarse shouts of the officers urging their men forward. The second line stepped upon the ground underneath which the mines were laid. Jacques threw the switch.

An infernal fountain seemed to shoot up in the midst of the mass of men in gray. A deafening explosion shook the ground and the air was filled with a great whirl of smoke. Men and parts of men flew high into the air as if they had been shot from the crater of some huge volcano.

Spellbound Jacques gazed upon the scene of awful destruction. As the smoke cleared away he saw the ground littered with the dead and dying. Those that still remained standing seemed bewildered. In vain their officers tried to rally them; pleadings and threats alike were of no avail. Their nerves were shattered and they turned and fled.

The attack was stopped. Jacques forgot the slaughter and remembered only that the French positions had been saved. He turned and began to crawl back towards his own lines. He had gone only a short distance, however, when he heard a shout. Glancing up he spied the French infantry climbing out of their trenches. Evidently they were not content with merely having stopped the German charge; they were determined to follow up their advantage with a gain on their own account.

With a wild yell they dashed forward. Rifles in hand and the long wicked-looking bayonets gleaming they rushed ahead. The Germans were demoralized and now was the time to strike. One glance told Jacques what was taking place and he did not hesitate an instant as to what course to pursue. With one bound he joined his comrades and a moment later was making for the opposing trenches as fast as any one of them.

Across the shell-swept field they raced. The ground was covered with the dead and dying, but no one hesitated. Great holes had been dug out of the earth by the giant shells; consequently the footing was dangerous and more than one man came to grief from this cause.

The German reserves and artillery were busy now. They had not been dispersed and in spite of the tremendous battering by the French guns a furious hail of bullets was poured into the advancing troops. The French charge was irresistible, however, and with a rush it swept up to and into the German first-line trench.

Here a furious hand-to-hand combat took place. Using bayonets or the butts of their rifles the men stabbed and clubbed at one another. Like demons the French fought; they were there to win and they meant to win. Their dash and spirit were simply invincible.

As Jacques sprang over the parapet a huge German advanced upon him with a cry of rage. The young Frenchman had partly fallen when he landed in the trench so that for the moment his balance was nearly destroyed. Consequently he was at a disadvantage and seeing his enemy making towards him he realized that before he could do anything he would be killed. Already the German had his rifle upraised preparatory to bringing it down upon the head of the young soldier.

It's all over, thought Jacques and he half closed his eyes. The expected blow never fell, however. Before the German could bring his gun down, a Frenchman standing just behind him suddenly pierced him through and through with his bayonet. The huge German sank to the ground without a sound.

"Armande!" cried Jacques, suddenly recognizing his rescuer. "You saved my life."

"It is part of the day's work," said Armande lightly, for it was indeed the daring Frenchman who had aided Jacques so opportunely.

Every German in the trench had by this time either been killed or captured and already the prisoners were being led back to the French lines.

"The next trench now," shouted someone. "Why stop here?"

A cheer greeted this remark and immediately the soldiers began to scramble out of the captured position. The second line of German trenches ran through a little wood on one border of which appeared the tower of a chateau which had so far escaped destruction in some miraculous way.

"Let's make for that," shouted Armande in Jacques' ear. "If we can reach that chateau we can defend ourselves indefinitely."

"Get some more men and we'll go," answered Jacques.

"This way! This way!" cried Armande, and immediately a dozen or fifteen men turned aside and followed his lead.

At top speed the little company dashed forward. The German rifles and machine-guns raked them with a galling fire, but still they kept on. Four of their number fell, but undaunted the others still continued the mad race. Closer and closer to the half-ruined chateau they came.

"They're firing from the tower," shouted Jacques. "The place is occupied."

"What of it?" demanded Armande. "So much the better."

An occasional flash from the narrow windows of the tower told that the Germans were using the place for defense. How many of them might be in there at present no one could tell. Not one of the attackers faltered on this account, however. Apparently they did not care whether four or forty men might be waiting for them.

Straight up to the front door Armande dashed. It was open and he rushed inside. Close at his heels followed the rest of the daring little company. A fusillade of bullets sang about their ears but no one was touched.

Up the winding stairs ahead of them three German soldiers could be seen fleeing. Their escape cut off below they had made for the only safe place left, the tower of the chateau. Armande was for following right after them, but Jacques restrained him.

"Wait," he cautioned. "They're above you and have us at a disadvantage."

"But they may escape us," protested Armande.

"How can they? They can't leave that tower by any other means than these stairs. They can't possibly escape."

"We must drive them out of there," insisted Armande.

"We will," exclaimed Jacques. "We want to plan the best way to do it though."

"You stand guard at the door," Armande directed one of the men. "Let us know if you see any sign of a German out there."

The soldier took his place and Armande advanced cautiously towards the foot of the stairway. The men were huddled together on the ground floor, irresolute as to what course they should now pursue.

Suddenly a hand-grenade came flying down the stairs, bumped along on the last two steps and then came to rest in the center of the little group gathered there. It was plain to be seen that it was about to explode and that if it did so, practically the entire hand would be killed.

Quick as a flash one of the men threw himself down upon the deadly bomb. Hardly had he done so when it exploded. There was an ear-splitting roar and the soldier, Fische by name, was literally blown to pieces. No one else was harmed.

"He saved our lives," exclaimed Jacques feelingly. "Who was that?"

"Fische," replied one of the men.

"Well, we'd all be dead now if it hadn't been for his nerve and quick action. What a brave man he was!"

"That mustn't happen again," exclaimed Armande. "We must clean those rats out of the tower before it will be safe for us here."

"How are you going to do it?" inquired Jacques.

"Go up after them of course. Who will go with me!"

"I will, I will," cried a half-dozen voices eagerly.

"Come along then," exclaimed Armande, and advancing to the stairway he placed one foot on the bottom step and glanced up.



CHAPTER XV

THE FIGHT FOR THE TOWER

As Armande's foot touched the stairs, a bullet from above struck his steel helmet a glancing blow. The helmet was knocked from his head and he staggered back against the wall. Jacques sprang to his side at once.

"I'm all right," exclaimed Armande quickly.

"Are you hurt?" demanded Jacques.

"Not at all; it merely stunned me for a second," and Armande rubbed his head dazedly. "I'll be all right directly."

"You musn't try to go up those stairs again," exclaimed Jacques, as he spoke handing Armande back his helmet, which he had picked up from the floor.

"But we must get them out of that tower," insisted Armande.

"I know," agreed Jacques, "but we'll have to find some other way to do it."

"But how?"

"I think I know how," said one of the men stepping forward.

"What is your scheme, Lippen?" asked Jacques eagerly.

"If we only had a machine-gun we could soon bring them down."

"But how could we carry a machine-gun up those stairs?" demanded Jacques. "They'd shoot us down at their leisure."

"We won't take it upstairs," said Lippen quietly.

"What is your plan?"

"Send two men for a machine-gun. When they have brought it back we will set it up here and point it at the ceiling. When we have sent a few thousand bullets through the floor the Boches will come down fast enough."

"Why will they?" demanded Jacques. "I don't see just what you mean."

"They'll come down because they won't be able to help it," said Lippen grimly. "We'll blow a hole through the floor and they'll fall down."

"I believe you're right," exclaimed Jacques suddenly. "Who will go after a machine-gun?"

Several men immediately offered their services and two were quickly dispatched on the quest. It was a dangerous mission, as the Germans from their position in the tower could shoot from the windows and have anyone below almost at their mercy. In order to divert their attention from the two messengers the men in the chateau started a lively demonstration. A half-dozen hand-grenades were hurled up the stairs by the daring soldiers and a fusillade of rifle and pistol shots was directed towards the same spot.

Under cover of this bombardment the messengers slipped out of the chateau and in safety gained the shelter of the woods. The French attack had now carried the second line of German trenches so that the chateau was in territory held by them. The Germans, trapped in the tower, were cut off from their troops.

"They got away safely," Jacques, who had been watching the two messengers, reported to Armande.

"Good," exclaimed Armande. "I hope the scheme will work."

"What else could we do?"

"I should like to rush the stairs," said Armande. "We can do it."

"You saw what happened to you a moment ago when you tried it," Jacques reminded him. "Probably we could do it but what's the use in getting a lot of men killed when we can accomplish the same result in some other way?"

"Probably you 're right," Armande agreed. "I hate to wait though."

The men had now withdrawn to an alcove off the main hall. This new position afforded them control of the stairway without exposing them to the fire of their enemies. The piano was dragged over to their place of refuge and a barricade built in front of it in case the Germans should try to rash them.

"How many of the Boches do you think are up there?" asked Armande.

"No matter," laughed Lippen. "They'll all be down pretty soon and then we can count them."

At this moment the guard who had been set to watch for the return of the two men with the machine-gun signalled that they were in sight.

"Good," exclaimed Jacques. "Now let's let them have a few more grenades upstairs there just to show them that we're still alive."

This plan was carried out and a series of violent explosions from the room above showed that the grenades were effective. At the same time the sentry signalled the two messengers to advance. One of them carried the tripod of the gun and the other the barrel. At top speed they set out from the shelter of the trees and started across the open space leading up to the entrance of the chateau.

They crouched low to the ground as they ran, endeavoring to present as small a mark as possible. Little spurts of dust all around them showed that the Germans were firing at them from above. The demonstration by the French inside the chateau was increased in intensity and one reckless man even ran halfway up the stairs to the landing before he threw his hand-grenade. Having hurled it, he sped down again, slipping, sliding and falling. However he was unhurt.

In spite of all these efforts the fire directed at the two messengers did not cease. So far, however, they were untouched and were only fifty or sixty feet distant from their goal. Suddenly the man carrying the barrel staggered. He reeled drunkenly for a moment and then sank to the ground. His companion, who was in the lead, was not aware of this and it was not until he had gained the protection of the chateau that he realized that his comrade was missing.

Of course the machine-gun was useless with one part gone. Someone would have to retrieve the other half and Armande instantly took it upon himself to be that one. Without waiting to see whether anyone else was going he dashed out of the doorway and raced towards the spot where the lost barrel lay. His appearance was greeted with a storm of bullets from the tower.

Untouched, however, he reached his goal. The barrel was lying on the ground beside the prostrate form of the soldier who had carried it that far; the soldier was dead, however, with a bullet through his heart.

Armande bent over and seizing the missing part of the gun he turned and ran for the chateau. All about him the bullets whined and sang; it seemed impossible that he should ever cover those few yards alive. The evening before, however, he had remarked to Jacques that having seen the new moon over his right shoulder he would be lucky. Whether or not that was the reason the fact remains that he gained the doorway and handed the barrel over to Jacques. His uniform had been torn on one shoulder and blood was oozing from the wound, which although deep, was not serious.

"Your life is charmed, Armande," exclaimed Lippen in admiration.

"I hope so," said Armande grimly. "Set up the gun."

No time was lost in this operation, and in less than two minutes the machine-gun was ready for action. The man who had carried the tripod had also brought the necessary ammunition.

"Train it on one spot," Lippen directed. "As soon as we get a hole through the floor we'll send a few hand-grenades through it."

Careful aim was taken and a moment later the gun was spitting an almost continuous stream of bullets into a space about a yard square on the ceiling. The plaster began to fly and some candelabra came to the floor with a crash. The noise of the machine-gun was almost ear-splitting inside the chateau but the men were all delighted at the promise of early results.

Jacques fed the long strips of bullets to the hungry gun, while all except his helper stood around in different parts of the room, their rifles held ready for instant use. All eyes were fixed upon the spot on the ceiling.

Suddenly a ray of light shone through from above. The air was filled with smoke and dust from the crumbling plaster.



"Keep it up!" shouted Armande.

The bullets were spraying all around the edge of the hole which grew rapidly larger. Several of the men opened fire with their rifles. The machine-gun then ceased firing.

"You can see where the beams run now," said Jacques to the gunner. "Loosen them up a little."

Once more the withering fire was continued and soon a yawning hole appeared above the heads of the Frenchmen. A table came crashing through; a chair followed close behind and a huge lamp next spun through the air and smashed into a thousand pieces on the floor below.

It must not be supposed, however, that the Germans in the tower were idle all this time. Bullets went through the opening in both directions and already two of the Frenchmen had been killed; two more were wounded. The fight was desperate.

All at once a hand-grenade, dropped from above, landed squarely in front of the spot where Jacques was stationed. It was not four feet distant from the young Frenchman. Almost without thinking he acted. Springing forward he seized the deadly missile and hurled it at the ever-spreading opening in the ceiling. He had not been a second too soon. Just as the grenade was passing through the hole it exploded.



CHAPTER XVI

THE DUG-OUT

Jacques immediately sprang back to his former position in the alcove beside the machine-gun. Lucky it was for him that he did so. The hand-grenade exploded and the ceiling which already was greatly weakened speedily collapsed.

Plaster, furniture, rafters and men poured down in a mass. The force of the explosion had literally torn the ceiling to pieces and, the supports gone, it collapsed at once.

"Anyone left up there?" shouted Armande.

"Not a soul," replied Jacques quickly. "Watch out below though."

Many of the Germans were buried deep under the mass of debris on the floor. Here and there an arm appeared and the French were busily engaged in extricating their enemies from the heap. Seven men were taken out alive, suffering only from bruises; four more were captured badly wounded and six were found dead.

"Well I guess the fight's over," sighed Armande when the Germans had been deprived of their weapons and the pile had been thoroughly searched for any more bodies.

"Seems to be," agreed Jacques. "How about these men?" he asked, as he spoke, indicating the prisoners that had been taken.

"We'll take them back to our trenches of course," said Armande.

A few moments later the little band had left the ruined chateau and were on their way back to their lines. The struggle was still continuing violently and both sides were fighting desperately for possession of the disputed positions.

Arriving in the trenches Armande, Jacques, Lippen and the others soon found their regiment and having turned over their prisoners were quickly in the fighting again. Leon, Earl and Dubois were posted side by side and Armande and Jacques joined them at once.

"We thought you were dead, Jacques," cried Leon, delighted to see his comrade once more. "Where did you come from?"

The story was quickly told and just as it was completed the officer who had directed Jacques to set off the mine-field approached the place in which the boys were standing.

"Young man!" he exclaimed heartily, catching sight of Jacques, "you did splendid work. You saved our lines and made possible this counter-attack. You disappeared though and I feared you had been lost."

"I saw our men coming forward and I could not resist the temptation to join them, sir," said Jacques modestly.

"Well, I'm glad to see you again," said the officer. "We need men like you."

"They're all as good if not better," exclaimed Jacques earnestly.

"That's right too," agreed the officer. "Every Frenchman is a hero in these days of trouble."

He passed on and Jacques turned again to his comrades.

"Tell me," he exclaimed, "what has happened here?"

"Everything," said Earl grimly. "They certainly did pepper us and it was only a few minutes before you came back that they let up at all."

"They're still fairly busy I should say," remarked Jacques.

The shells were bursting all around in endless succession but fortunately the fire of the German batteries was directed mostly upon the positions to the right and left of those occupied by the douzieme.

"They'll hit us before long," remarked Dubois.

"What do you mean?" asked Earl. "A counter-attack?"

"I think so. They may not try it to-day but they surely will some time to-night; the Boches are getting so they like to fight in the dark now."

"Perhaps it's because they can't see the bayonets so well," laughed Armande. "They don't care much about cold steel, do they?"

"I should say not," agreed Dubois. "It's funny too for they are certainly brave enough when it comes to facing shells and machine-guns."

"Hand-to-hand work isn't suited to Germans, I guess," said Leon. "You never heard of a German being a good boxer either; they don't seem to be much good at things that need quick thinking and action."

"Germans are good athletes though," exclaimed Earl.

"In certain sports they are," Leon agreed. "They're good wrestlers and gymnasts and that sort of thing. I say that they're strong but they're not athletic. The strongest fellows aren't always the best athletes, you know."

Meanwhile the guns boomed constantly. The shells from the French guns were exploding far in advance of the positions the douzieme now occupied.

"They're probably shelling the ground where the Germans are trying to dig new trenches," said Dubois.

"I hope they hit 'em," exclaimed Leon fervently.

There were many dug-outs along the line of the trench. Some of them were shell-proof and were fifteen to twenty feet below the surface of the ground; the entrance to these was through a door, level with the floor of the trench. A stairway, just wide enough to permit one man to pass, led down to them. The roofs were reinforced with huge timbers and so strongly were they constructed that most of them were intact, despite the heavy bombardment to which they had been subjected.

"Have you seen these dug-outs?" Leon inquired of Jacques.

"No, I haven't."

"Come along then and I'll show them to you," exclaimed Leon. "Some of them are regular palaces."

"I doubt that," laughed Jacques as the two boys set out together.

They inspected a dug-out similar to the one described above. Then they discovered others, larger but only slightly lower than the trenches.

"Look at them," exclaimed Leon. "They must have used these for living quarters when things were quiet."

"I guess they did," agreed Jacques. "If they're all like this they're pretty good size too; this one must be six feet wide and nearly thirty feet long."

"See those logs on the ceiling; they're a foot in diameter at least."

"Yes, but they're not shell-proof. They have to be deeper in the ground than this to be safe from high explosive shells."

The two young soldiers continued along the trench. Many of the dug-outs, similar to that they had just left, were in ruins. Jacques was correct when he said they were not proof against the big shells. Most of them were destroyed, the logs splintered to kindling-wood and strewn far and wide over the ground.

"Where does this lead, do you suppose?" demanded Leon suddenly.

"Let's follow it and see," exclaimed Jacques readily.

A blind alley ran off from the main trench and it was this that the two boys were following. There was a narrow doorway at the end of the alley and through this they advanced.

"Another dug-out, I suppose," said Jacques.

"Looks like a real one," exclaimed Leon. "Whew!" he whistled in amazement as he descended the stairs and stepped out into the underground room.

"Say," said Jacques warmly, "some general must have lived here."

"I should think as much," agreed Leon. "Just look around you; rugs on the floor, pictures and mirrors on the wall."

"And a wonderful stove; let's make some tea," cried Jacques eagerly.

"Where's the tea?"

"There must be some here; there seems to be everything else."

A short search soon produced tea and crackers; a fire was started in the stove and water was put on to boil. Tea was always in demand by the soldiers; it was their favorite beverage in the trenches.

"Isn't this great?" exclaimed Leon. "War wouldn't be so bad if we only had places like this to live in."

"Did you notice that there were two entrances?" asked Jacques.

"Yes, one at each end. I suppose that's in case the trench should cave in and block up one passage-way you could still get out the other side."

"Pull up a chair, Leon," exclaimed Jacques. "We might as well be comfortable as long as we can."

The two soldiers sat by the fire and sipped their tea and chatted. Now and again a dull roar told them that the Germans were still busy and that they still had their opponents, the French, in mind.

"Do you suppose we could be hurt down here?" remarked Leon.

"If one of those big German shells happened to strike squarely over us I guess we'd be hurt all right," said Jacques.

"It would have to be a direct hit though."

"That's true and I don't believe there is much chance of its happening. This seems to me about the safest spot I've seen."

"Too bad the others don't know about it," said Leon.

"Listen," warned Jacques. "Here comes somebody now."

A moment later six soldiers filed into the dug-out. They were men from the douzieme, but belonged to a different company from that of which Leon and Jacques were members.

"Come in," cried Jacques cordially. "Have some tea."

No second invitation was needed and the eight soldiers were soon grouped around the fire, sipping canteens of hot tea. Everyone was as enthusiastic as Leon and Jacques had been and life seemed worth while once more. The time was short, however; it soon became necessary for our two young friends to leave and go back to their post.

They said good-by to their comrades and made their way outside. Coming to the little alley that led to the dug-out they stopped and listened to the artillery duel.

"The Germans are tuning up again," remarked Jacques.

"They certainly are," agreed Leon. "Did you ever notice how you can tell from the sound a shell makes going through the air just what kind it is?"

"Yes, and you can judge their direction and where they're going to fall too."

Suddenly Jacques grasped Leon fiercely by the arm. "Look out," he cried in terror, and threw himself and his companion prone upon the floor of the trench.

He had heard a sound which he knew meant danger and possibly death; the awful whistling roar of a high explosive.



CHAPTER XVII

LIPPEN BREAKS

A terrific explosion shook the earth. Dirt was mixed with logs and stones and showered everything nearby. The deadly lyddite blackened the faces of the two young soldiers and half blinded them. For some moments they were too stunned to move.

Finally they recovered somewhat from the shock and rose to their feet.

"Look at that dug-out, Jacques," exclaimed Leon. "It's blown to pieces."

"How about the men inside?" cried Jacques. "There are six of them."

As he finished speaking one of the trapped soldiers crawled out. He pulled himself along with one arm, for the other was terribly shattered; one of his legs hung only by a tendon and a few shreds of flesh.

"Quick, Leon!" cried Jacques. "Cut the cord from your bandolier; you tie up his arm and I'll attend to his leg. We must stop this flow of blood or he'll die."

The wounded soldier was a fine, healthy boy; a few minutes before he had been telling what he planned to do when he went home on a furlough. Now his face was white with agony; his voice grew weaker and weaker and he died while Jacques and Leon were working over him.

"This is awful," cried Leon fiercely.

"This is war," said Jacques.

High explosive shells were now bursting all along the line; tons of earth were thrown high into the air and the very ground rocked beneath their feet. Men hurried from one spot to another trying to find protection where there was none; oftentimes masses of earth were blown in on top of them.

"Picks and shovels!" came the cry, and "Stretcher bearers! Stretcher bearers!" resounded on all sides.

"The rest of those men in the dug-out are dead, Leon," said Jacques calmly. "We can do nothing for them and the thing for us to do is to rejoin our company."

"Think of it," exclaimed Leon as they hurried along. "If we'd stayed in that dug-out two minutes longer we'd been dead now."

"Death comes quickly in war," remarked Jacques. "It hangs by a thread and you never can tell when it is going to strike you."

They soon reached the spot where their company was located and along with the rest of those who were off duty were immediately ordered into the deepest of the shell-proof dug-outs, where they were really quite safe.

"We're in for it, I guess," remarked Dubois laconically, as Jacques and Leon entered the dug-out. Earl and Armande were also there.

"Sure we are," exclaimed the latter brightly. "What of it?"

"There'll be a lot of our men killed."

"Not half as many as there will be Boches," said Armande. "Just wait until they send their infantry out; our machine-guns will make them wish they were back in their trenches."

"You're an optimist, Armande," said Earl. "Just listen to those shells up there."

"The Boches will come out about dark," said Armande. "We might just as well sleep until then."

"Not with that going on," exclaimed Leon. "At least not for me."

An hour later they were all ordered out. Every man had on a mask to guard against the poisonous gas that the Germans used so frequently just before they launched their attacks. Oftentimes too they would shower the opposing trenches with shells, causing irritation and smarting of the eyes so that the men could not see to shoot. Now and again they used liquid fire which shot out half a hundred feet from especially made machines somewhat resembling the nozzle of a hose.

The surprising thing is that the French could withstand all those terrible engines of destruction. Sheer courage had helped them the first time they were used and after that they were always provided with some good means of defense. The French are remarkably quick to learn.

It was dark as the men came up out of the dug-out. They had scarcely taken their places when there was a sudden hurricane of rifle and machine-gun fire. Almost instantly the whole battered landscape became lighted up under the flare of innumerable trench-rockets. Far ahead, the enemy, in irregular lines, could be seen advancing to the attack.

"Here they come," cried Armande. "Let 'em have it!"

A pitiless infantry fire was turned upon the Germans. An almost solid sheet of flame issuing from the French rifles marked the curve of their trenches. Almost at once the French artillery caught the range of the advancing troops; the air was filled with the roar of the bursting shells and the sad-sounding whing-g-g of flying shrapnel.

"No one can possibly come across that space alive," cried Leon incredulously.

"Yes, they can too," exclaimed Armande and a moment later the sharp staccato of a hand-grenade bursting nearby warned them that some of the enemy at least were already within striking distance.

The men worked feverishly. Rifles became hot they were fired so fast and so constantly. Hand-grenades were popping all around now and the noise became deafening. Like gray ghosts the Germans appeared under the flare of the guns and the weird light of the trench-rockets.

The French machine-guns mowed the Germans down like grass and the fact that they still came on was a high tribute to their bravery. Gradually the firing died down and the noise lessened. Broken and beaten back the Germans turned and fled. A cheer went up from the French line, while a farewell volley was poured into the mass of retreating Germans.

"What did I tell you?" demanded Armande triumphantly. "I knew they couldn't touch us and I'd just like to see them try it again."

"It cost us something," said Earl.

"Yes, but not one-quarter of what it did them."

"I hope not," agreed Earl. "It always costs the attacker more."

The strain of the fight let down and a reaction set in. The ground was strewn with the dead and dying and the moans of the wounded were anything but pleasant to hear. During the fight every man nerves himself to face whatever comes; afterwards there is sometimes a complete swing to the other extreme.

Arms and legs stuck out from heaps of earth. Dead men lay all around; blood was on everything. Nauseating odors filled the air. Suddenly from a spot directly behind Earl came a sound that made his blood run cold.

Lippen, the soldier who had fought so valiantly in the chateau, suddenly sprang to his feet. He uttered a wild, hideous, hysterical laugh and seizing an arm that protruded from the trench in front of him he hurled it far out over the battlefield.

He shrieked raucously and then suddenly sat down and began to sob. His companions gazed at him a moment in surprise and then in pity.

"What is it, Jacques?" demanded Earl. "What ails him?"

"He's crazy," said Jacques quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"He's gone insane; his nerves are shattered."

Lippen sat and sobbed; now and again he raised his head and gazed about him and the look in his eyes showed that all his reason had departed.

"How awful!" exclaimed Earl with a shudder. "Do you suppose he'll ever get well again?"

"It's hard to say," replied Jacques. "Sometimes they do and sometimes they don't."

"I've heard about these things happening in the trenches," remarked Leon. "This is the first case I've seen."

"There are a good many made the same way," said Jacques soberly. "The terrible strain and the awful slaughter affect men's nerves so that they sometimes go entirely to pieces. It is very sad."

"It's horrible!" muttered Earl with a shudder.

"For my part I'd rather be killed," said Leon.

Attendants came and led poor Lippen away. Perhaps with constant care and prolonged quiet his shattered nerves might mend. At any rate he was but one small part of the army and the war must go on whether he was gone or not. Of course all would be done for him that was possible, but after all one man more or less is a very tiny part of a big army. If sympathy was expended on every pitiful case there would not be much time left for fighting.

As the soldiers crouched behind the parapet Captain Le Blanc approached the spot where Jacques was seated.

"Private Dineau," he said, "I understand that you are an aviator."

"Yes, sir," exclaimed Jacques, quickly springing to his feet and saluting.

"You were once attached to the flying corps?"

"Yes, sir."

"You think you can still drive an aeroplane?"

"I am sure of it, sir."

"Very good," said the captain. "Come with me."



CHAPTER XVIII

AN ASSIGNMENT

"Well what do you suppose he's going to do?" exclaimed Earl after Jacques and Captain Le Blanc had disappeared.

"He's going flying, I suppose," said Dubois.

"Say," cried Earl enviously, "I wish we were."

"That's the best part of the service all right," said Leon. "Jacques and I were in it together once and I know what I'm talking about."

"Why did you ever leave it?" inquired Dubois.

"I don't know," said Leon. "We thought it would be more exciting with the infantry and so we got transferred."

"Flying's not as safe as it was at the beginning of the war," remarked Dubois.

"I know it isn't," said Leon. "There are ten times as many machines now as there were then and ten times as many flyers. Then again, scouting over trenches is much more dangerous than over the open country. Here you are fired at constantly by the anti-aircraft guns and you meet so many more machines; they're all concentrated in one spot."

"Just the same I'd like to try it," exclaimed Earl eagerly. "Do you suppose that if Jacques is given a machine he could take us along as observers?"

"No such luck I'm afraid," laughed Leon grimly. "We may never see him again."

"Let's hope it will not be as bad as that," said Dubois. "Jacques is certainly a fine boy."

"He's a good friend of mine all right," said Leon warmly.

After a time the two brothers and Dubois were relieved from duty and retired to their dug-out for rest and recuperation. They were soon asleep, for the experiences of the past few hours had been exhausting. Heavy and regular breathing soon testified that the other occupants of the underground room were also deep in slumber.

Leon suddenly opened his eyes with the vague impression in his mind that someone was shaking him. He awoke to find himself staring into the flare of a flashlight. Some soldier held it in one hand while with the other he tugged at Leon's sleeve.

The young soldier was awake instantly and on his feet. Men who live in constant danger do not waste any time waking up.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"Come with me," said the man whom Leon recognized as Captain Le Blanc's orderly. "Also bring your brother."

"Wake up, Earl," whispered Leon eagerly in his brother's ear.

A moment later the twins and their guide were making their way along the trenches towards the captain's quarters. It was very dark and difficult to see. Vague, shadowy forms crouching low behind the parapets, however, testified that France's children were still guarding her. Day after day and night after night the constant vigil was kept up; never for one moment did these human machines relax their caution. Everywhere throughout the length of the long battle-line, sharp eyes kept watch.

Winding through the numerous trenches the three soldiers finally came to their destination. A moment's delay and they were ushered into the dug-out which served as Captain Le Blanc's quarters. A short time before, this same shelter had served a corresponding purpose for some German official.

Seated at a table were three men. One of them the brothers immediately recognized as Captain Le Blanc but the other two were strangers. The officer on the captain's right turned to him.

"Are these the two young men of whom you spoke?" he inquired.

Captain Le Blanc turned and glanced questioningly at Jacques who stood nearby. The young Frenchman nodded his head slightly.

"These are the ones, General," said the captain, facing again the man who had questioned him.

"Very good," exclaimed the general, a keen-eyed soldier with white hair and a white mustache. "They are friends of yours I take it?" he remarked to Jacques.

"Yes, sir," replied Jacques with a prompt salute.

"Young men," said the general now addressing Leon and Earl, "I have a mission to be performed; it requires the services of an experienced aviator and we have decided that it is best for him to be accompanied by two men. It is dangerous but it is necessary. We have chosen you three young men from among many and we rely on you to carry the enterprise through to a successful conclusion.

"You will start at dawn; Private Dineau will be the aviator and he will have as aides the brothers Platt. You will be conducted to the machine you are to use and as dawn is not far distant I advise you to prepare yourselves at once. Good luck to you."

He turned away and the three boys, realizing that they were dismissed, immediately withdrew. Captain Le Blanc's orderly followed them.

"I will conduct you to your machine," he announced and set out at once, closely followed by the three young soldiers. Back from the front they walked, proceeding through the winding maze of communicating trenches. Few words were spoken until they emerged from the trenches entirely and came to the open road.

A small motor-car with a chauffeur seated at the wheel stood near the entrance to the trench.

"For us," announced the orderly and straightway climbed aboard.

His companions were not slow to follow his example and a moment later they were whizzing at breakneck speed along the highway.

"Where are we being sent?" demanded Earl, who all this time had been consumed with intense curiosity.

Jacques merely shrugged his shoulders. "I do not know," he said.

"Say," exclaimed Leon suddenly, "what's this driver trying to do; kill us? Personally I'd rather be killed in battle if I must die. An automobile accident seems out of place in war."

"He's going some all right, isn't he?" cried Earl. "I'd like it th——"

His words were suddenly cut short. The driver swung the car sharply to the right to avoid a huge shell-hole blown in the middle of the highway; he did not slacken his speed one bit, however. Earl was thrown off the seat violently and found himself on the floor of the car; Jacques landed there beside him at the same time.

"This is pretty bad," exclaimed Earl. "I agree with you, Leon; he ought to stop it."

"But he won't," announced Jacques. "They all go like this."

"Well, I'll certainly be glad when it's over," said Earl grimly. "I can't get up onto the seat again."

"Don't try," advised Jacques. "We'll soon be there."

"If we're not all dead," murmured Earl.

Presently, however, the speed slackened and the machine came to a stop. An aviation field with hangars all around appeared some half mile distant.

"Here we are," announced the orderly, stepping from the car.

"How fast were we going there, Leon?" inquired Earl as they hastened to follow their guide.

"Seventy miles an hour," said Leon. "Did you like it?"

"I did not," said Earl warmly. "That's too fast for me."

"Wait until we get into our aeroplane," warned Jacques. "We'll travel a hundred miles an hour easily."

"There are no shell-holes in the air anyway," said Earl. "We can't be wrecked that way as we nearly were back there on the road."

"Don't you believe it," exclaimed Jacques. "When they begin firing at us from the German trenches you'll find there are plenty of shell-holes in the air all right."

"By the way, haven't you any idea where we're going?"

"None at all. All I know is that this orderly is instructed to take us somewhere over here where we'll get our orders."

"Who was that man who talked to us?" asked Leon. "They called him 'general.'"

"That was General Petain," said Jacques. "Didn't you know him?"

"I never saw him before. Was that really he?"

General Petain was the man made famous by his splendid defense of Verdun and he was a popular hero with the soldiers.

"Who was the third man?" asked Earl.

"I don't know who he was."

The first faint streaks of dawn were just beginning to color the eastern sky as the little party stopped in front of a vine-covered cottage, just to one side of the aviation field.

"Here I leave you," announced their guide. "You are to report to Major Villier." He immediately turned on his heel and walked away.

Jacques led the way inside. The young soldiers were evidently expected for they were led without delay into the presence of an officer seated under a lamp, intently studying a map. He looked up as the three boys entered the room.

"Which one of you is Private Dineau?" he inquired.

"I am," announced Jacques stepping forward.

"Good," exclaimed the major. "Here are dispatches which you are to deliver to Colonel Erhard. He is in command at the village of Flambeau in the Vosges Mountains. The dispatches are important and should reach him at the earliest possible moment." As he spoke he handed a small packet to Jacques.

"Your aeroplane is waiting for you," he continued. "It will contain everything you will have need of and I wish you a good trip and a safe return, I would suggest that your two aides who look so very much alike go and see that everything is in readiness. Meanwhile I will point out Flambeau to you on the map and the best route for you to follow."

The major smiled at the two brothers who immediately departed, and guided by a soldier hastened across the aviation field to the spot where a big armored monoplane was just being trundled out of its hangar. A machine-gun was mounted on board and several bombs were also to be carried.

"Here are coats for you," said one of the men as the two brothers approached the machine. "You will find it cold up among the clouds today."

"How about food?" inquired Earl. He was always particular about that.

"Two days' rations for three men," said the soldier. "That is more than you'll need if all goes well but it's a good plan to be prepared."

"I think so too," agreed Earl. "What horsepower is this machine?"

"One hundred."

"Whew!" whistled Earl. "She ought to be able to make time."

"She can," said the soldier confidently. "Just wait until young Dineau gets hold of her. He'll make her sail; he's a wonder, that boy. It's a shame he ever got out of the aviation corps."

"He was good all right, wasn't he?" demanded Leon.

"Good?" exclaimed the man. "I should say he was good. Why I'll bet that if he had stuck to the flying corps he'd have bagged a dozen Boche machines by this time."

"He's reckless though," said Leon.

"Not reckless, but daring," insisted the soldier. "He doesn't know fear."

"Here he comes now," observed Earl.



CHAPTER XIX

OVER THE TRENCHES

A few moments later Jacques was in the driver's seat and Leon and Earl had taken their places on board. Every boy was dressed in a heavy coat and an aviator's hood, with protection for the ears and face; warm gloves were on their hands, for it promised to be biting cold in the high air that day.

The top rim of the sun was just appearing over the edge of the trees as Jacques pressed the button which set the self-starter whirring. The engine roared and the pilot listened intently for any sound of defect to come to his well-trained ear. An aviator must know by the sound just what is wrong with his motor; there is no chance to search for the cause of the trouble when you are a mile or two above ground.

Apparently Jacques was satisfied for he throttled the motor down until it merely purred. "All ready?" he demanded.

"Got your dispatches, have you?" asked Leon.

"Yes," said Jacques, feeling of his breast pocket.

"I guess we're off then," cried Leon eagerly. "Let 'er go."

The monoplane began to move forward slowly. The little knot of men gathered around called good-bys as the great mechanical bird ran out across the field. Faster and faster it went; finally Jacques pulled a lever and gracefully and easily it rose from the ground. Up, up, up it soared, swiftly and steadily.

"Say," almost shouted Earl, "this is wonderful. I've never been in an aeroplane before, you know."

"Well you keep your eye out for other machines and for people shooting at us from below," advised Leon. "That's your job and mine."

"It's such a wonderful sensation flying like this," cried Earl. "Just look down below us there. The roads look like white ribbons and the trees like bouquets. Don't the houses seem small?"

Earl was enchanted. Leon and Jacques too, although they were experienced hands at this game, once more felt the thrill of soaring swiftly through space. Jacques particularly was pleased to be in the driver's seat of an aeroplane again; his face plainly showed his keen enjoyment.

Higher and higher they mounted; below them the earth seemed miles away and the buildings and fields appeared to be of toy size. It was cold, however, bitterly cold, and all three of the boys were profoundly thankful for their warm wraps.

"You know it feels as if we were standing still," exclaimed Earl.

"I know it," agreed his brother. "The higher you go the more it seems that way too."

"Yes, sir," cried Earl, "if I didn't know better I should say that we were absolutely stationary and that it was the earth below that moved."

"Isn't the machine steady?"

"Feels as steady as a rock. You know I haven't felt the least bit nervous since we started."

"Why should you?" demanded Leon. "We're a good deal safer here than we are in the trenches."

"I suppose that's true," mused Earl. "You wouldn't think so, though, would you?"

"I don't know. The way the machines are perfected nowadays there is practically no danger from accident and with a good aviator you are as safe as any one can be in war. Of course plenty of machines are destroyed and the pilots and observers killed, but I believe the proportion is smaller than in any other branch of the service."

"Say," called Jacques from the pilot's seat.

"What is it?" demanded Leon.

"I've got a question to ask you. There are two ways of reaching Flambeau and I want your advice as to which to take. One way we can go around back of the firing line and be practically safe all the way."

"Go that way then," exclaimed Leon quickly.

"But," objected Jacques, "that course is much longer."

"Major Villier and General Petain both said that the dispatches should be delivered as soon as possible, didn't they?"

"'At the earliest possible moment,' was the way they expressed it," said Jacques.

"Then," said Leon, "we ought to take the shortest route."

"It crosses the battle line twice," said Jacques. "You know the trenches make a big loop below here and we will have to cut straight across that loop."

"Never mind," exclaimed Leon. "If they said to deliver the dispatches at the earliest possible moment it's for us to take the shortest possible course in order to do that."

"I think so too," agreed Earl. "We'll have to run our chances, that's all."

"There are the trenches below us now," cried Leon suddenly. "See them up ahead there?"

"Sure enough," exclaimed Earl. "Don't they look funny from here? They look just like a series of deep scars running in all directions."

"You can't see the first line trenches yet," said Leon. "You can easily tell them for they'll run exactly parallel to one another and the space in between them will be the only place where you see no trenches. Behind both the French and German first lines there are any number of other trenches running in all directions and all connected. But in between the two front ones there is nothing; 'no-man's land' they call it."

"'Dead-man's land' would be better I should think."

"See them firing," exclaimed Leon suddenly.

"At us?" queried Earl.

"No. You can see those puffs of smoke down below there though; those are bursting shells."

"There are the first line trenches too," said Earl abruptly. "You can tell them easily, can't you, just as you said."

"How high are we, Jacques?" inquired Leon.

The young aviator consulted his indicator. "Two thousand meters," he replied.

"Let's see," said Leon, trying to figure it out in his head, "there are a little over three feet in a meter and that would make two thousand meters about six thousand feet or over. There are five thousand two hundred and forty feet in a mile; that makes us a little over a mile high."

"Can they hit us at this distance?" asked Earl.

"They can, but I hope they don't," said Leon grimly.

"Funny we haven't seen any other machines," remarked Earl.

"Well we're right over the front trenches now and I guess plenty of people see us and are looking at us right this minute."

As he spoke a puff of white smoke suddenly appeared ahead of them but some distance below.

"They're firing at us," exclaimed Jacques.

"Shall we drop a bomb on them?" cried Earl eagerly. "We want them to know that we're alive, you know."

"Don't do it," cautioned Jacques. "It would probably be wasted here."

"There's another shot," cried Leon. "Behind us this time."

"Let's hope their aim continues as poor as that," said Jacques. "We want to get those dispatches to Colonel Erhard at Flambeau before anything happens to us."

"We'll be over hostile territory all the way, won't we?" asked Earl.

"We will," replied Jacques, "and we'll be fired at all the way too. If they should send a couple of machines up after us we might have to run for it."

"I don't know where we'd run to," said Leon grimly.

"Nor I," admitted Jacques. "Let's hope that we can out-distance any machines that start to chase us."

"Do you think this machine is faster than the German ones?" asked Earl.

"Faster than most of them," replied Jacques. "Probably not as speedy as those new fokkers though; they go like the wind, but they are too light and I doubt if one of them could do us a great deal of harm."

They passed over many towns and hamlets; the green fields of France lay spread out beneath them like some soft green carpet. It all appeared very beautiful and peaceful now that they were some miles back of the firing line. An occasional puff of smoke around them, however, showed that they still traversed hostile territory; at least it was land held by the invader.

Once a German machine rose from its hangar far below and set out in pursuit of the speeding monoplane; it was quickly out-distanced, however, and soon abandoned the chase. Without any special incident the three young friends progressed until far ahead of them they could make out the faint outlines of the Vosges.

"There are the mountains," cried Jacques.

"Sure enough," exclaimed Earl. "Well we've had a pretty easy trip of it, haven't we? It has been a regular pleasure jaunt."

"We're not there yet," warned Leon.



CHAPTER XX

AT FLAMBEAU

Closer and closer they came to the mountains. Presently it was possible to make out the different summits, all of them wrapped in a blue haze.

"Do you know where Flambeau is, Jacques?" queried Earl.

"I do."

"We'll have to cross the firing line again, won't we?"

"Yes; pretty soon now too, I think."

"Do you know where it runs here?" asked Leon. "If it should follow the top of some of these mountains we'd have to ascend much higher than we are now to be out of range, wouldn't we?"

"We certainly would. Keep your eyes open and see if you can see any signs of trenches; we ought to be pretty close now."

The foothills were below them now. The wooded slopes were cut and gashed by gullies and ravines and now and then a fertile valley appeared. The hills grew in size rapidly, however, and it was not long before the mountains themselves were underneath them. Once or twice a cloud wrapped them in its damp folds and it was with a feeling of relief when they emerged into the sunlight again.