So far there had been a total absence of either artillery or rifle fire. The advance had been made silently and comparatively quietly. On either side of the mill, in the far distance, and to the rear, however, were dull rumblings and booms that told of war's activities.

Greatly to their relief, the lads found quite a store of food the Germans had put away, evidently in preparation for a long stay in the mill. It was not food of the best quality, but it was better than nothing, they all agreed. And there was water in plenty.

"If they come at us we'll fight as long as we can," decided Jimmy, which was the sentiment of all, "and we'll live to the best of our ability meanwhile."

"But they don't seem to be going to attack," ventured Roger. "They look to me as though they were settling down for a long stay. I can't see 'em digging trenches yet, but maybe there are some already dug."

While getting the food and ammunition in readiness, and dragging back the dead bodies out of the way, the boys occasionally looked from the mill windows. As Roger had said, the army appeared to have come to a halt, both the center and the wings.

The Khaki Boys had just finished binding up their minor hurts, and were talking of their chances for escape, when there suddenly sounded outside a whine, a scream and a mingled roar.

The next instant there was an explosion that threw them all flat from the force of the concussion, and a terrific noise deafened them. They seemed to be at the ending of the career of this part of the old earth as they saw the whole front wall of the red mill collapse, falling as though sliced off by a gigantic cleaver.



CHAPTER XI

A STRANGE RESCUE

Stunned by the concussion, half choked by the clouds of dust and smoke, terribly jarred when they had been felled by the force of the explosion just outside the mill, our five heroes lay, for several seconds, totally unable to stir. Had there been a rush of Huns on them at that moment, or had some following explosion endangered the mill, they would not have been able to move to save themselves.

But, for a time, there was no further explosion, so that the Khaki Boys had a chance to recover their breath, and, what was more important in their perilous situation, gather their no less scattered wits.

"What—what in the name of the great Attila himself was that?" gasped Roger.

"I think it was yet a gun what went off," mildly said Iggy.

"A gun? Say, it must have been the grandfather of all the cannon the Huns ever made," declared Jimmy. "Are any of you alive?"

"Guess we're all alive," answered Bob, as he slowly arose and shook some of the dust from him. For the dust was thick all over, in clouds and scattered about. Some of it was flour dust and other was the lime and mortar that had held together the front wall which had collapsed and slid outward. The whole front of the mill was open.

There was no doubt about their all being alive, but, for a time, even this had been in doubt. They were still stunned, but they managed to gather in a knot about Jimmy. They were hardly able to breathe, partly because of the shock and partly because of the choking dust.

"There goes our defense," said Bob, gloomily, pointing to where the machine-gun stood—the one they had decided to use against their enemies. It had been crushed by the falling wall.

"Lucky we had the rations in the back room," commented Roger, "Else we'd go hungry."

"We may yet," returned Jimmy, grimly.

"What do you mean!" asked Bob, anxiously.

"Well, I don't believe that was a chance shot," went on the young sergeant. "If they see the mill still standing they may try another, and that may take off the roof. And then——"

"Whoa! Hold on a minute! A little at a time!" protested Bob. "This is enough. Don't give us any more."

"We've got to know where we're at!" declared Jimmy, and there was a new quality to his voice. "If this mill is within range of the German guns, and, unquestionably, it is, we've got to get out."

"Or go down cellar," added Roger.

"I don't believe any cellar, unless it was double bomb proof, would be safe if another shell like that came over," said Franz.

"Was it a German shell or one of ours?" asked Bob. "That would be interesting to know. I don't suppose, though," he went on, "that it really makes much difference, after you're dead, whether you're killed by an enemy shell, or by one fired in mistake by one of your friends. At the same time if the American guns have come up it may mean that the Germans will have to retreat and we'll be safe."

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that," declared Jimmy. "It will mean a big battle, anyhow, if the Americans and some of the French and British have come up. And that may mean we'll have a chance to join our friends. But, in the meantime, maybe we can tell whether that was a Hun shell, sent to blow this mill off the earth, or whether it was from the good old United States."

Cautiously they advanced across the floor, toward what had been the front of the mill. Caution was necessary, for with the collapse of the front wall and part of the sides, the floor supports were weakened.

"No telling where that shell landed," declared Bob. "It's buried deep, and about ten tons of mortar and bricks are on top of it. If we had seen it coming——"

"Look out—duck!" suddenly yelled Franz, as he grabbed Jimmy, who was nearest him and darted toward the rear of the structure.

"What's the matter?" cried Bob.

"Another shell coming!" shouted Franz, and, even as he spoke there was that horrid screeching sound. "Duck!"

Together they ran to the farthest corner of the old mill. Whether it would have been better to have tried to get out none of them stopped to think. They were in a panic.

And then came the explosion, but so distant that it caused no more than a mere rumble of the ground, and a faintly-felt concussion of the now tottery building.

"Missed us that time," declared Roger. "But they're getting our range."

"No, they didn't fire at us," declared Franz. "If they had they would have hit us, for undoubtedly the gunners know the effect of that first shot. The Huns aren't shooting at us purposely."

"Do you mean that shell came from a German battery?" asked Bob.

"It did," affirmed Franz. "I saw the puff of smoke from a battery on the hill where the Germans are grouped. Then I knew they were firing in our direction. But of course I couldn't see the shell, and I didn't know where it would land. But I didn't want to take a chance. That either went over or fell short. But there's no question, now, as to where the firing is coming from—it's from the German lines."

"Then there's no chance for us," said Roger, gloomily.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," declared Franz. "They don't know we're here, and they evidently aren't firing directly at this mill. They may be using it to get the range, and that's why they dropped the first shell here. But we still have a chance."

"I don't see it!" declared Bob. "We can't get out—surrounded as we are by the enemy, and if we stay here another chance shell may wreck the place."

"Better as we noathing do, maybe; eh?" suggested the Polish lad.

"I guess you've struck it," assented Jimmy. "There isn't very much we can do. We might take a chance and sneak out, but I think very likely, the Germans are well supplied with glasses. They are, most certainly, watching this mill, if for no other reason than that it's so conspicuous. If we run out they'll be sure to spot us, and it would mean capture sure."

"Then what do you, advise, Blazes!" asked Roger.

"That we see if there's a chance of getting down in the cellar and staying there. Some of these old mills had very thick foundation walls. I don't know just how long this one will stand up if many more such shells as the first one came over, but we can try it. In fact, it seems to be our only chance."

"All right—to the cellar!" cried Bob. "And don't forget to take with us what food and water we can. Maybe we'll be held there some time. If there's a big battle it may last several days, though if our boys drive back the Huns we'll take the opportunity to slip out and join our friends."

"That's right," agreed Jimmy. "Just think, fellows, what's happening to us now may have happened to poor Maxwell. Maybe that's why he hasn't been heard from. If we don't come back they'll list us as missing, and no one will know whether we've run away, been killed or captured. So we'll have to suspend judgment on the man that's got our thousand dollars."

"That's so," agreed Franz. "I never looked at it in just that way. We never thought this would happen to us, any more than I thought I'd be captured."

They were gathering up such food as remained to them, and Bob was looking for something in which to carry some water to the cellar, when there came again that nerve-racking screech, followed by a roar and bang that seemed to knock the very bottom out of the world itself.

And this time the boys were conscious, for a brief instant at least, that the old mill was gone. It seemed to fall apart, to disintegrate, to crumble like some time-worn structure. And then all five of the lads lost consciousness and seemed to be slipping down into everlasting blackness, while all about them fell and rattled and banged stones, bricks, mortar-dust and dirt, mingled with cracked and splintered wood.

It was Iggy who first recovered his senses. Whether he was less shocked, or whether his nerves were in such a state from his recent experience as to make his unconsciousness of shorter duration, does not matter. The fact is he opened his eyes. And he was at once conscious that he was held down by the weight of much debris. It was on his legs and on his body, but his arms and head were free.

"Ach! Back again am I in de shell hole! It was a dream, yes, that I was taken out!" exclaimed the poor Polish lad. "It a dream must of been! I shall sleep again!"

But as he was closing his eyes, for he really, as he said later, thought that he was back in the shell hole, he saw Jimmy, who was half buried near him, moving slightly.

"Oh, Jimmy Blazes! And dey kill you, too!" sighed Iggy. "How sorry I am we both deat are alretty!"

"Who's dead?" asked Jimmy, in a faint voice. "I'm not, anyhow, but blamed near it. Is that you, Iggy?"

"Yes, I it is. But I know not if I am deader or aliver."

"Take my word for it—you're alive so far, though how long you'll be that way—or me, either—I can't say," said Jimmy. "What happened, anyhow?"

To Iggy's relief Jimmy managed to scramble out of the pile of dirt and stones that half buried him. And then, from another corner of what seemed to be the cellar, a third voice said:

"They sent over a proper shell, that time." It was Franz.

"A proper shell? Most improper, I call it!" came from Roger. "It blew the mill to pieces!"

"And us along with it," added Bob. "Are we in the cellar?"

"Sub-cellar, basement—anything you like to call it!" put in Jimmy. "But is it possible that none of us is seriously hurt?"

He walked over a pile of masonry and beams. He saw Bob crawling out of a hole and Franz swinging himself down from what appeared to be a ledge. Roger picked himself up from a corner. Only Iggy seemed to be seriously hurt, but it was demonstrated, a few moments later, that he was not. For he scrambled out, scattering the dust in a cloud, and stood with his chums.

They were a sorry sight—covered with dust and streaks of blood, for the wounds they had bound up had opened again, and they had many fresh scratches and cuts.

"It's very evident what happened," declared Jimmy. "They must have dropped a shell on the roof, and it blew the mill right down into the ground, and us with it. We're in the cellar—or what was once the cellar."

"And the next question is, how to get out," added Bob.

"Hark!" exclaimed Jimmy, holding up a warning hand.

There was silence, broken by a faint, crackling noise.

"Do you think you hear the German guns, or ours!" cried Bob.

"Neither one," said Jimmy, and there was a curious note in his voice. "What I hear—and what you'll all hear, soon—is the crackling of flames. The old mill—or what's left of it, boys—is on fire!"

"Then let's get out!" yelled Roger.

Jimmy looked about him, without moving. Above them there seemed to be a solid mass of torn beams and jumbled masonry. On either side there were stone walls—cracked walls, it is true, but, nevertheless, too solid to admit the passage of the Khaki Boys. And only on one side was there an opening, but this was so choked with debris as to make it seemingly impossible to make egress that way. And, as the young soldiers stood there, trapped under the collapsed mill, the sound of the crackling flames became more plain. They could smell, now, the smoke of burning wood.

"We've got to get out! We've got to get out!" yelled Bob.

He rushed to a place where, through a crisscross of beams and planks, he could see daylight. Yet, though there were openings, none of them was large enough to permit the passage of the smallest of the five Brothers. And the wooden beams and planks were all of extraordinary thickness.

"We're trapped! Trapped! And the fire coming nearer!" half sobbed Bob.

And then he saw through the crisscross of beams, coming toward the burning mill, a man who seemed to be an American officer. And yet he wore no such uniform as Bob had ever seen before.

"Steady, boys!" cried this strange rescuer, as he glimpsed them. "I'll soon have you out! Wait! Don't bring the ruins down on top of you!"



CHAPTER XII

MUCH WONDERING

Through the splintered and tangled crisscross of beams, planks and boards which barred their way to freedom, as some iron grill or lattice work might have kept in some ancient prisoner, the Khaki Boys looked at the man who had shouted to them; the man who had said he would rescue them. And he spoke with a calmness and confidence that was in strange contrast to the scene of terror, noise and confusion which was behind the boys—a danger that was ever coming nearer as the fire, started by the exploding shell, ate its way into the dry timber of the old mill, and menaced the five imprisoned Brothers.

"Who is he?" murmured Bob.

"And where did he come from!" inquired Roger.

"Is he an American or German?" was the question Jimmy asked, and he peered out through a space between two big beams that had fallen and crossed when the mill collapsed.

"He isn't a German—that's sure," declared Franz. "No German would be so decent as to rescue five imprisoned Americans. He'd let us roast to death first."

"Maybe he knows not dat we American be," suggested the Polish lad.

"Well, he wouldn't have to be much of a guesser to tell that we weren't Germans, after he heard us talk," said Jimmy. "We might be of either nationality, as far as our being here is concerned. But no matter what he thinks we are, he seems to be willing to help. What's he looking for, I wonder?"

The strange rescuer appeared to be looking about in front of the mill for some object. His eyes eagerly sought the ground, and he hurried to and fro, seeming to realize the need of haste.

"I'll be there in just a moment, boys!" he called. "I'm looking for something to use in prying apart those beams. They're pretty heavy, and I've got to work all alone. I'll get you out in time!"

"Wonder how he knows we're boys!" asked Bob.

"Oh, that's a general term—he'd call us that if we were forty years old," declared Jimmy. "And no matter how old a man is, if he's in the army, he's a boy. But I wish he'd hurry. It's getting hot here!"

It certainly was! The fire was gaining rapidly, and, every now and then, with a shift in the wind, the hot, choking gases from the flames, together with rolling clouds of smoke, would be blown into the rude chamber where the boys were imprisoned.

When the smoke-clouds blew away the Khaki Boys could look out and see their rescuer, still hunting frantically about for some object to use as a lever. In spite of the danger of their situation they could not help observing the man. He was tall, and well formed, and unmistakably a military character. He appeared to be above the general type of captain or lieutenant.

"If he's any less than a general I'll eat my gas mask!" Roger declared afterward.

Clearly the man was born to command, or he had acquired that right in some manner. There was an indefinable air of authority about him, even though now he was hurrying about almost frantically, looking for some weapon with which to attack the barrier that held the boys prisoners.

"That sure is a queer uniform he has on," remarked Jimmy, as he tried in vain to move some of the beams from his side of the mass of timber that had fallen when the mill was blown up. "It's mostly American, but it has a British air about it."

"And his leather puttees look like some the Germans wear," added Bob. "Maybe he's a war correspondent, and had to pick up bits of uniform from all over."

"He isn't a war correspondent," declared Jimmy.

"What makes you so sure?" Roger wanted to know.

"Because, if he was, he'd have a brassard with a large letter 'C' on it, around his arm," went on Jimmy. "And he wouldn't have a big automatic revolver strapped to his hip, either. The correspondents are classed as non-combatants, and aren't allowed to go armed."

"That's right," chimed in Franz. "But who is he!"

It seemed useless to speculate then, and, indeed, the boys were in little mood for it. The precariousness of their position was alarming. And while I have detailed the conversation among them, you are to understand that it all took place very quickly. In fact from the time they first observed the strange rescuer, until they had talked about his odd uniform, was only about half a minute.

Suddenly the man—officer let us call him—who was scurrying about just beyond the jagged barrier, uttered a cry of satisfaction. He hurried out of the boys' vision for a moment, but lest they have any fear that he had deserted them and left them to their fates, he called:

"I've found what I've been looking for—an axe! I'll soon have you out now!"

He came running back, carrying an axe of curious make. It was a large, keen one, however, and later it developed that it was one the French miller had used to chop his firewood. Throwing off his coat, and revealing beneath it a dark blue shirt, the officer began fiercely to chop at the beams.

And the boys remembered afterward, though at the time they were too excited to mark it, that the officer picked out what might be called the "key" beam. That is one which held all the other pieces of jigged and splintered timber in place, making a prison of that part of the cellar.

With vigorous blows of the keen implement, the unknown chopped away at a great hand-hewn beam. And he swung the axe as though he knew how to use it, and not as a tyro.

"He's been in a lumber camp at one time of his life," decided Jimmy, and the others were inclined to agree with him.

The fire was now gaining so rapidly that the heat of it, penetrating to the prison of the boys, was almost unbearable. The smoke, too, made their eyes smart and burn, and it choked them, causing them to gasp and cough.

"Steady, boys! Steady!" panted the officer, between his vigorous blows. "A few more strokes and I'll have this beam cut. Then I think you can get out."

Again and again he swung the keen axe. Between the blows the boys could hear the sounds of distant firing, and the reverberation told them that heavy guns were being used.

"Hope they don't send any more shells over this way," murmured Bob.

"They seem satisfied, now that they have brought down the old mill on top of us," commented Franz. "Can any of you see the German lines!"

None of them could, it developed. In fact, their vision was obstructed by a small hill directly in front of the grill work of their prison, and, even if this had been removed, the smoke was now swirling around them so thickly that, at times, even the officer chopping them out was obscured.

Once or twice the chopper had to stoop down, in order to breathe the purer and cooler air near the ground, and the boys were put to the same expedient.

And then, suddenly, there came a crashing, splintering sound. There was an exclamation from the officer, and, as he leaped back he cried:

"There she goes, boys! The way is as clear as I can make it! Come on out, and lively, too!"

The Khaki Boys lost no time in obeying. Leaping and scrambling as best they could over the heaps of brick, stone and splintered wood, they emerged through the hole cut for them by the officer. He had chopped through the one beam that held all the others, or most of the others in place, and the crisscross structure had collapsed, allowing the boys to escape.

"Come on! Come on!" cried Jimmy. "Everybody out!"

And they leaped out only just in time, for as Bob, the last to make his way to safety, cleared the jagged barrier, a burst of flames and smoke swept into what had been the boys' prison.

Now they stood on the green grass, in the open, with the burning ruins of the mill at their backs. And confronting them, still holding the axe, and panting from his terrific exertions, was the strange officer.

And as the young soldiers looked at him they wondered, more than ever, who he was.



CHAPTER XIII

A PERILOUS JOURNEY

Almost at once there set in a reaction, as was natural under the circumstances. The Khaki Boys had been keyed up to such a high pitch through the battle, the attack on the hill, the subsequent shelling of it, and their own dangerous position after the collapse of the building, that now their rescue hardly seemed real.

"Say, I'm about all in!" exclaimed Bob, as he sank down on the grass.

"Same here," agreed Jimmy, staggering to a seat.

"Take it easy, boys, take it easy," counseled their rescuer. "And better come a bit farther away from the fire. The whole place is going, and the wind's blowing strongly this way. We're too much in line with it."

He spoke the truth. The boys were enveloped, part of the time, in a haze of smoke and a swirl of burning brands. Tired, and physically and mentally exhausted as they were, they scrambled to their feet—for they had all stretched out on the grass—and made their way to a spot where they could breathe with freedom. The mill ruins were now burning fiercely.

"Any more left in there!" asked the officer, pointing with his axe towards the fiery structure.

"None alive," answered Jimmy, as he thought of their brave comrades in arms who had perished in wiping out the German machine-gun nest. It was, perhaps, a fitting funeral pyre for them.

"Stay here and I'll get you some water," offered the blue-shirted officer. "That will fetch you around quicker than anything else. I can get you a little food, too, I think—emergency rations, if you need them."

"We aren't exactly hungry, sir," said Jimmy, tacking on the "sir" in an almost certain opinion that the man was an officer. "We had some of our own rations, and we were eating when the Huns sent a big shell over that spilled the beans."

"I see. Well, then, rest here until I can get you some water. Fortunately the Boches can't blow up a stream. The water is sure to remain somewhere. It won't take long to get it, I'll be back in a moment."

He hurried off between two little hillocks, away from the burning mill and in the direction of the stream.

"Who in the world is he?" asked Bob.

"It's a puzzle," said Jimmy. "We'll ask when we thank him for saving our lives."

"Here you are, boys," said the officer, as he came up the slope with a canteen which gurgled most musically with water. "Drink this and then we'll discuss what's best to be done."

"Are we safe here?" asked Jimmy. "Safe from the Germans, I mean? They're all about here, you know."

"Yes, I know," said the officer, and there seemed to be more in his remark than the mere words indicated. "But you're safe for the time being. They have destroyed the mill, so it is no longer a menace, they fancy. Their guns are directed elsewhere now."

The sound of distant firing could be plainly heard, but the boys could no longer observe the gray ranks of the Huns on the distant hill. One reason for this was because of the smoke from the burning mill, which swirled about in all directions, and the other reason was that there was a lot of smoke caused by the guns of the Germans, and this, or perhaps a smoke screen which they started, concealed them.

"Feel better?" asked the officer, when the lads had emptied the canteen.

"Much," answered Jimmy. "And now, sir, may we have the pleasure of knowing to whom we owe our escape? We're from the 509th Infantry," he went on. "We were in the battle, and got cut off. Our lieutenant had ordered us to take the mill where some Germans had two machine-guns. We five are all that are left of the sixteen that started. And we wouldn't be alive but for you. So if we could know whom to thank—"

The officer stopped him with an imperious gesture. He looked rather stern, and then, as though conscious that this was not the attitude to take, he smiled.

"I'm glad I was able to serve you," he said. "I happened to be in the neighborhood. I heard your cries after the mill collapsed and began to burn, and I hastened up. I had no time to summon help—in fact, your friends are rather distant from here now. The Germans are all about."

"We know it—to our sorrow," replied Bob. "How we are going to get back to our company is what's worrying me."

"It is going to be a problem," assented the officer.

"Are you coming with us?" asked Jimmy. It was a perfectly natural question. Here was one—by most appearances an American officer—marooned with some American doughboys in the midst of the Germans. Why should he not cast his lot with them, and lead them to the best of his ability to the safest place? He was an officer—there was no question of that—and it was his right to lead. But he seemed disturbed at Jimmy's question. He looked searchingly at the boys, and then toward the distant hills where the Germans were massed, though not then in sight.

"No, I—I can't come with you," the unknown said. "I'm sorry, but you will have to shift for yourselves. I'll give you the best directions I can to enable you to reach your own lines, but you'll have to go alone."

"We'll try," said Bob. "But we wish to thank you, and we don't know—"

"Oh, it was all in the day's work," interrupted the officer, "Any one who came along would have done just as I did to help you."

"Not anyone, sir," asserted Franz, in a low voice. "A German wouldn't have chopped us out."

"Well—er—perhaps not," said the officer. "But it was in my line of duty and I did it. I don't want to be thanked for doing my duty."

"But we insist on thanking you, sir!" exclaimed Jimmy with a smile. "If it hadn't been for you we'd be dead in there now—it was impossible for us to free ourselves!"

"Well, you may call me Captain Frank Dickerson," said the officer slowly. And he appeared to hesitate over the words.

"Then allow me, in the names of my companions, to thank you from the bottoms of our hearts!" exclaimed Jimmy, rising and saluting. The captain returned the salute. He stood for a minute looking Jimmy straight in the eyes, and the lad said afterward that the officer seemed to be searching out the sergeant's very soul. Then Captain Dickerson said:

"I must leave you now. You will find a little package of food at the end of the mill flume. I'll leave you this canteen so you may carry water with you on your journey toward your own lines. Your way lies there," and he pointed to the south. "Good-bye—and good luck! I hope you may get through, but—"

Then, turning abruptly he strode off between two high grassy hummocks, and was soon lost to sight in the smoke and haze.

For a moment the khaki boys stood, motionless, and then Jimmy, looking around on the circle of his companions, exclaimed:

"Well, if that isn't mysterious!"

"I should say so!" agreed Bob. "Talk about the man in the iron mask—this beats it!"

"Why doesn't he come with us, toward the American lines?" asked Roger. "Why does he want to go over where the Huns are? This gets me. It looks as if he was——"

He did not finish the sentence. But his chums knew what he had started to say. Only it seemed a terrible suspicion to which to give voice, against the man who had saved their lives. Still, with all that, the khaki boys could not help thinking in their hearts that there was something wrong.

"Maybe he's going over there to scout around and see if that's a better way for us to get back to our quarters," suggested Bob.

Jimmy shook his head. Then he remarked slowly:

"Come on! Let's see about food and water and then well hike. All our stuff—guns, rations and everything—has gone up in the fire."

"I haf yet two off dem handle chranades," spoke up Iggy, meaning, thereby the serrated Mills bombs which were used in the trench raids.

"Hold on to them!" advised Jimmy. "We'll need them if the Huns see us, and they're very likely to."

They crawled to the end of the mill flume. The fire was now some distance from this wooden water carrier. There, in a canvas bag which the boys recognized as one of the variety carried by the Americans, they found a goodly stock of provisions.

"They'll last us a day, anyhow," said Jimmy, making an inspection. "And by that time we may be back in our lines."

"Or in the Germans'," voiced Bob.

"There's a big battle going on all around us, but we seem to be in the center of a calm area," said Roger. "The question is how to find our way out."

"Well, let's go!" suddenly exclaimed Jimmy. "Well only get lame and stiff staying here, I feel as if I'd been rolled down hill in a spiked barrel."

Not one of the five Brothers but what had several wounds. But, fortunately, they were superficial ones. They were sore and bruised from being knocked down by the concussion, and by being precipitated into the cellar by the collapse of the mill. But they were still able to travel; though, as Jimmy said, if they remained inactive their muscles and joints would stiffen.

"Hike!" cried Bob, and they set off in the direction indicated by Captain Dickerson—that strange man who had seemed so cold and reserved, and who had made so light of what he had done in saving the lives of the Khaki Boys.

"I wonder if we'll ever see him again," mused Franz, as they marched away from the burning mill.

"Somehow I have a feeling that we will," said Jimmy. And afterward he was to recall those words under strange circumstances.

And so they began what was destined to be a most perilous journey to get back to their own lines.



CHAPTER XIV

THE SENTRY

"Now, boys," said Sergeant Jimmy, when they had dipped down into a hollow among the many hills in the big valley, "we've got to have some plan of action, and some system to this. We've got to have a leader, too. Military rule must prevail, even among friends."

"You act as leader!" suggested Bob Dalton.

"That's right!" chimed in all the others.

"We'll make you captain, for the time being," added Roger.

"Thank you for the honor," said Jimmy with a smile. "I'll wait, I guess, until my promotion comes regularly. But if you really want me to take the lead and—"

"Of course we want you!" exclaimed Franz, while Iggy added:

"Besser as we should have him for to leader us dan a Germans."

"Well, I'm glad you think that much of me!" laughed Jimmy. "Now then, if I'm to lead I'll have to give orders. And do you all agree to obey them—at least if they don't seem against your better judgment?"

"We'll obey 'em anyhow," said Roger, and the others nodded assent.

"All right," went on Jimmy. "The first thing to do is to calculate how long our rations will last. There's enough for one day if we each took about all we wanted. Or there's enough for two days, or more, if we stint ourselves."

"Then we'll go on a diet!" declared Bob. "There's no telling how long we may be in getting back to our lines, and while we might be able to find something to eat along the way, it won't do to take chances."

"I thought you'd look at it that way," said Jimmy. "As for water, it rains so infernally often in this country that I imagine we shan't be thirsty. But we'll always carry the canteen full. Now, then, I'll appoint Roger as Secretary of the Interior—that is, I'll make him the cook and give him charge of the rations," and Jimmy handed the canvas bag of food over to his chum.

"There isn't anything to cook," said Roger, as he looked in the bag. "It's all emergency ration stuff."

"So much the easier for you," declared Jimmy. "Now that's settled, the next thing to decide is how to get to our lines."

"Keep right on going the way Captain Dickerson told us," suggested Bob.

"That's what I want to consider," Jimmy went on. "Do you all think that is the wisest course to follow?"

"Why in the world not?" asked Franz, in some amazement. "Didn't he tell us to go south, and don't we pretty well know that in that direction would be the most logical place for our troops to be?"

"I grant that," replied Jimmy. "But if our lines are to the south, why did Captain Dickerson, who appears to be an American officer, go to the north! Why didn't he come with us?"

"That's starting the whole question over again," declared Bob. "I say let's take a chance and go south. The captain wouldn't send us wrong after he went to all that trouble to save us alive."

"Perhaps you're right," admitted Jimmy. "Well, though I'm leader I'm willing to abide by the majority rule. Since you all want to go to the south, the south it shall be."

"Don't you think that's the best way?" asked Roger.

"Well, it's as good, perhaps, as any other," was the reply. "I think we're pretty well surrounded by Germans, and it doesn't really make much difference which way we go. So the south is as good as any."

"Then lead on!" exclaimed Bob.

"Yes—hike!" added Roger.

And once more they started off.

Their way lay through what had once been a beautiful farming country. In places, still, there were fields under cultivation—that is, they had been cultivated up to within a few weeks. But the tide of battle had swept over the region and the French farmers had either been killed or had left their homesteads. Still, where the fields had not been torn up by shell fire, grains were growing, and there were even orchards here and there.

But, as far as the soldier boys could see, there was no sign of life. Even the birds seemed to have flown away. There were no chickens, no dogs, no cattle nor horses—in fact none of the usual farm scenes. Here and there were farmhouses, some in ruins, others scarcely touched by the devastating wave of war. But in these latter, which were still habitable, there were no men or women, and no laughing children. In fact, throughout France it is probable that there were no laughing children at this stage of the war. Or if they laughed, it was because they were too young to appreciate the menace of the Boche invasion.

"We may not be so badly off for food, even if we eat up all our Secretary of the Interior has," remarked Bob, as they trudged along a deserted road. They had, some time since, left behind them the burning mill. It was out of sight, though they could catch occasional glimpses of the smoke from it.

"What do you mean!" asked Jimmy.

"Well, there may be a lot of good things to eat in some of these farmhouses," suggested the young corporal. "I vote we take a look."

"It can't do any harm," decided Jimmy. "But I doubt if we find anything worth taking."

And he was right—at least in the first few houses the boys entered. The cupboards had been cleaned out, if not by the unfortunate owners, then by the Germans who had devastated the region.

"We'll have to live on what we have," said Jimmy. "And we may not be so badly off for all that Lots of the boys have been without food for three days. If they stood it we can. And we may get to our lines sooner than we expect."

"I don't see why we shouldn't get there by night," observed Roger. "We didn't hike very far when we were fighting, and our boys can't have retreated far enough in the time that has elapsed since the fighting changed, to get entirely beyond our reach. I believe we'll be with our own division by night."

"Well, it doesn't do any harm to hope," said Jimmy. "But we've got to be cautious just the same."

They kept on, ever on the alert for a sight of the Germans, ever hoping for a sight of their own khaki-clad comrades. They appeared to be marching away from the scene of the battle, or battles. The firing became fainter. The country was now quite open, consisting of little hills and valleys. Each time they came to a height which afforded a place for observation, they looked all around. But all they saw, besides an occasional deserted farmhouse, or patch of woods, were rolling clouds of mist or smoke.

There had been considerable rain, and the ground was damp. The sun, shining on this, caused the moisture to condense into fog that swirled about here and there. The day had begun wonderfully clear, but now it looked like rain again.

They halted in a little grove of trees and ate some of their none-too-plentiful rations. Then, after a rest, they started on again. It was late afternoon when, as they were hiking down a lonely road, the rain suddenly began to fall.

"Whew! Now we're in for it!" exclaimed Roger, as he did his best to protect the bag of food. "We might better have stayed back in the woods."

"Let's double-quick it!" suggested Bob. "Maybe there's a house around the bend in the road."

They hastened on, and the surmise of Bob proved correct. There was a lonely little house—more of a cabin, or shack—set in the midst of what had been a garden, but now overgrown with weeds.

"Shelter, at any rate!" cried Jimmy. "Come on, fellows!"

Roger was the first to enter the humble little cottage. But he had no sooner crossed the threshold than he started back.

"What's the matter?" asked Bob, who was directly behind his chum. "Any Germans here?"

"No, but I fancy the owner is," said Roger. "Look!"

He pointed to the figure of an old man, with white hair, seated at a table in what was evidently the kitchen. The man's head was bowed on his arms which were resting on the table.

"Oh!" exclaimed Jimmy, as he looked in.

"Beg your pardon, sir," said Bob, "but we're Americans. May we stay here out of the rain, and perhaps for the night?"

There was no answer. The figure did not move.

"He doesn't understand anything but French, very likely," said Franz. "Can't you take a hand, Blazes?"

"Yes," assented Jimmy. "But it's funny he didn't wake up when Bob spoke, even if he didn't understand. I'll go ahead. But let's get in out of the wet."

They entered the room. The white-haired occupant of it did not stir from his position of bowed-down grief.

"He sleeps very soundly," remarked Jimmy in a low voice.

Stepping forward he touched the old man on the shoulder, and then Jimmy knew what had happened.

"He's dead!" he whispered.

"Dead?" echoed the others.

"Come on—let's go into the other room," suggested Jimmy.

There was another room opening out from the kitchen. Into this the Khaki Boys filed silently.

"Do you suppose the Germans killed him?" asked Roger.

"Very likely. Or he may have died from old age, fright or shock. We'll leave him where he is."

"And stay here?" asked Bob.

"Sure! Why not? We're out of the rain. The poor dead man can not harm us, and we have seen enough of death, in worse forms than this, to be afraid now."

"Oh, it isn't that I'm afraid!" exclaimed Bob. "But if the Germans did that to—him—they may come back and—"

"I fancy not," said Jimmy. "I believe they think they have cleaned out this place. It's the safest spot for us with the old man as a silent sentry. Come, fellows, well spend the night here with the dead to guard us."

It was said reverently—piously—and there was a strange feeling in the hearts of all the boys as they closed the door on the silent, pathetic figure and stood together in the other room, while the rain beat down on the roof, and dashed against the windows.

And so they began their bivouac of the with death as a sentry on guard.



CHAPTER XV

IN THE BATTLE AGAIN

"Well, we've got to be thankful that we had a place to stay all night where we were out of the wet," remarked Jimmy, as he and his chums awoke the next morning in the lonely cottage of the dead Frenchman.

"Yes, and we're going to have a good day to travel, too," said Bob. "There's the sun up good and proper, as Tommy Atkins would say."

"No telling how long it'll stay up," came from Roger. "Yesterday started in fine, but look what happened before night."

"Look what happened!" echoed Jimmy. "I don't believe since we joined the service any more things have happened in any one day. We ought to be thankful we're alive."

"Sure we are," said Iggy. "But I thinks me dat he is going to rain!"

"Who's he?" asked Franz.

"Him!" and Iggy pointed to the sun. "Der wedder I mean. Him will rain before night I feel, for of my foot there is such a pains. Always when it rain going to be is, of my foots there is a pain."

"You mean your corn hurts!" asked Bob, with a laugh. He had been rather gloomy the day before, but now he seemed to have recovered his usual good spirits. "Imagine having a corn in these days of battle!" he went on.

"He is not what you say—imagitive!" declared the Polish lad earnestly. "He is real, dat pain in mine foots! But I can away from here march quick. It gives me bad dreams," and he looked toward the kitchen where the silent occupant had acted as sentry for them.

There had been no disturbance during the night, and if any parties of Germans had passed the lonely farmhouse this was unknown to the boys. Occasionally they heard the sound of distant firing, but now, as the sun rose higher in the heavens, the noises became louder, and, seemingly, nearer.

"Must be a big battle going on not far from here," remarked Bob.

"I don't believe there's been any let-up in the big battle," came from Jimmy.

"The only trouble is that we're being left out!" exclaimed Franz. "I want to get back in the fighting again."

"Same here!" murmured Roger. "Let's eat and then well hike. We ought to get back to our lines to-day, sure."

"If we have luck," remarked Jimmy. "Well, let's go!"

It was not much of a breakfast that the Khaki Boys had, but it was better than nothing. They managed to make a fire in the stove and boiled some coffee they found in a cupboard.

"Best meal I've had in a week!" exclaimed Bob with a grateful sigh, as he finished his cup of hot liquid. "Now I'm ready to meet Kaiser Bill himself!"

They packed up what food remained, filled their canteen from a little stream not far from the cottage, and then, bidding a silent farewell to the dead Frenchman, they started off once more.

The country through which the five Brothers traveled seemed as deserted as that over which they had journeyed the previous day after their rescue from the old mill. But the evidences of war were more frequent in destroyed orchards, ruined farmhouses and, here and there, immense holes in the ground where great shells had struck and exploded.

"What's your trouble, Jimmy!" asked Bob, clapping his chum on the shoulder, as they trudged down a road. "You look as though you hadn't heard from your girl in Buffalo in a month of Sundays."

"Neither I have," said Jimmy. "But I wasn't exactly thinking of Margaret then, though I have given her a lot of thought at different times. I'm just wondering—"

"'Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag, and smile, smile, smile!'" sang Bob.

"Good advice," commented Jimmy. "My troubles aren't any more serious than those of anyone else in this war. But I was just wondering if that officer told us the truth"

"What officer?" asked Roger.

"The one who called himself Captain Dickerson, and who saved our lives at the red mill?" answered Jimmy. "I can't get over his not coming with us to show us the way to the American lines. I believe he ought to have done it!" and Jimmy spoke very determinedly.

"He certainly would have if he had had any consideration for Iggy's pet corn!" laughed Bob. "We don't seem to be having any luck ourselves. It wouldn't have hurt him to have taken command of this squad of rookies and led us back to civilization."

"Civilization! I hope you don't call the trenches with their big rats and cooties and—er—other things—civilization!" cried Jimmy. "If it is—give me barbarism."

"Well, I didn't just mean that," went on Bob. "But I wish Captain Dickerson had come back with us."

"Maybe he had orders to proceed elsewhere," suggested Franz.

"If he had he was on a dangerous mission," said Jimmy simply. "He went straight toward the German lines. I can't understand it at all. He certainly was a strange man."

"But he did us the greatest service one man can do for another," remarked Roger. "He saved our lives, fellows! Don't forget that!"

"No," agreed Jimmy in a low voice. "Whatever happens we must never forget that."

They trudged on in silence a little longer, and then Franz broke out with:

"And speaking of wondering, Jimmy, what do you suppose has become of Sergeant Maxwell?"

"And your money, Blazes," added Bob.

"Our money," corrected his chum. "Haven't I told you that the five thousand francs is the joint property of the five Brothers."

"All right—have it your own way—anything if or a quiet life!" said Bob, quickly. "I was just wondering, that's all."

"I have been wondering, too," admitted Jimmy. "The disappearance of Maxwell and the cash is almost as much of a mystery as is Captain Frank Dickerson."

Twice that day, as they tramped along, seeking in vain for the American lines, they saw small parties of German soldiers. And on both occasions the Khaki Boys were fortunate enough to sight the enemy first, so they could conceal themselves in patches of woods.

They were now in a country where there were larger tracts of forest, and after coming out of one of these thickets Bob remarked.

"Fellows, do you know what I think?"

"Do you, really?" chafed Roger.

"Do I really what?" asked Bob, a bit disconcerted.

"Think!" exclaimed his chum. "I thought you'd given that up."

"This war is enough to make a chap give it up," Bob agreed. "But seriously, fellows, I think we're lost—that we've been going around in a circle, and we aren't any nearer our lines than when we were at the red mill. Not so near, in fact, for there we knew that some of the doughboys were not more than a mile away. But here—"

"Bob, I shouldn't be surprised but what you are right!" exclaimed Jimmy. "It does seem funny that, with all our traveling, we haven't come to the American lines. They can't be so far away as all this. I guess we must have traveled in a circle. Pity we haven't a compass."

"Can't you steer by the sun?" asked Franz. "We started south, and if we keep the rising sun on our left and the setting sun on our right, we're bound to go south."

"The trouble was yesterday that we didn't see the sun after we started hiking," declared Jimmy. "It's all right now—we're surely going south. But how long we can keep it up there's no telling."

"Well, then, as long as we know we're going in the right direction now, let's double quick and cover as much ground as we can straight away, before we get turned around again," suggested Roger.

His plan was voted a good one, and the tired young soldiers hurried on. But to their chagrin it soon became cloudy, and then a mist settled down obscuring every gleam of sunshine, and they had to depend on their sense of direction, which, truth to tell, was not very accurate.

When night came, it found the boys on a lonely stretch of land, partly bogs, with, here and there, patches of woods. The prospect was most gloomy, for their food was getting scarce, and they were tired and. sore. Their wounds, slight as they were, bothered them, and though none complained, each one would have been glad to be able to slip into some dugout, no matter how rough, and there rest.

"What shall we do!" asked Jimmy, as it became almost too dark to proceed along an uncertain path. "Shall we hole in or keep on?"

"It's going to be cold, holing in this night," replied Roger, with a shiver. "Look at that fog!" he went on, as the mists rolled up from a swamp. "It goes right through you!"

"Well, then let's keep on walking," said Jimmy, trying to speak cheerily.

They walked on in silence. Bob did not get off any of his queer, improvised rhymes, and as for Iggy he turned up the collar of his coat, hunched his shoulders; and seemed like some old man tramping along.

"Hark!" suddenly called Jimmy, and the words came in a tense whisper. It was as if he had said "Halt!" for his chums came to a stop on the instant.

"What is it?" asked Bob.

"Don't you hear some one walking toward us?" went on Jimmy, his voice still low and tense.

They all listened. The fog swirled around them in cold, white clouds. And then, through the darkness, they all heard, and distinctly, this time, the measured beat of marching feet.

"Soldiers all right!" commented Roger in a whisper.

"Yes, but what kind?" was Jimmy's question. "Are they our boys, some of the Allies or—Germans?"

"What shall we do?" asked Franz, and, in the misty darkness he turned toward Jimmy, as seemed natural.

"Keep still," was the advice given. "And crouch down. If they are Boches well let 'em pass—if they'll be so obliging as to go on. If they're some of our boys—"

"Oh, boy! If they only are!" sighed Bob.

The tramping feet came nearer.

"They're headed right this way!" declared Franz, who was crouching down next to Jimmy.

"Yes. But keep still! Don't even whisper. Sounds carry very far on a misty night—almost as they do over water."

The thud of heavily shod feet sounded plainly now, and then, suddenly, so suddenly that it made the hearts of the Khaki Boys thump fiercely, there came a voice out of the darkness saying:

"I don't believe we'd better go any farther, boys. We've come quite a way from our lines, and we haven't seen a sign of even a Hun sentry. We can go back and report the coast clear!"

And the voice was that of an American! Hearing it Jimmy and his chums leaped to their feet.

"Americans there"! sung out Bob.

Instantly came the sharp challenge:

"Who's there!"

"Some of the 509th Infantry," answered Jimmy, giving the names of his companions and himself.

"Advance, Sergeant Blaise! The others stay where they are. And remember our rifles have you covered, so don't try any funny work."

It was a grim warning, but the five Brothers appreciated its need. Jimmy stepped forward, and the light from a pocket electric torch flashed in his face.

"Don't know you, but you look all right," said a tall, young lieutenant who was in charge of the party, the tramping feet of which had so alarmed our heroes. "What are you doing here?"

"It's a long story, but I'll cut it short," said Jimmy, and he did. The lieutenant listened with interest, and then, satisfied that the truth was being told, he remarked.

"You'd better come back with us. We'll take care of you for to-night, and to-morrow you can send word to your command. I don't know this Captain Dickerson you speak of."

"Are we near the American lines?" asked Bob.

"Within half a mile," was the answer.

They were led back, and soon were comfortably housed in a dugout, partaking of hot rations, and telling their story to wondering comrades. They had come upon a sector of the line held by a division made up of New York and New Jersey troops, and, though our heroes knew none of them personally, they fraternized all right.

The next day the commanding officer, having heard their story, sent them back to their own company, which had moved considerably farther toward the front since the battle of the mill, as the boys called it.

They learned that the big body of German troops which they had seen from their hiding place had not yet come into an engagement to any great extent with the Allies.

"A big battle is pending though," said their captain, when our heroes were back in their own command, where they were made royally welcome. "There have been skirmishes and some long-distance artillery work. But the big fight is yet to come. You'll have a chance to rest up and get in trim for it."

Jimmy and his chums were glad of this. They were allowed leaves of absence, and went back of the lines to a pleasant little village, where rest and good food soon made them "fit" again. All efforts to learn something more of Captain Dickerson, and the whereabouts of Sergeant Maxwell, were, however, without avail.

One evening, after the five Brothers had reported back to their billet for duty, and while they were in the dugout, detailing over again some of their experiences at the mill, the sergeant-major entered.

"Get set, boys!" he exclaimed. "The orders are coming in. We go over the top again in the morning, and it's going to be some fight!"

And when the zero hour was signaled again the five Brothers were in battle once more.



CHAPTER XVI

HELD UP

Equipped with gas masks, their packs filled with first-aid outfits, carrying emergency rations, with the "tin hats" on their heads and with rifles firmly grasped, over the top went the Khaki Boys, and thousands like them, in another attempt to subdue the Boche enemy.

Behind the boys roared out the big guns that were laying down a protecting barrage—a veritable curtain of fire behind which they might advance and without which they would have been swept back into their trenches broken and bruised and killed. The artillery duel had been under way some little time now, and it had evidently taken the Germans by surprise, for they were longer than usual in replying.

"Smash 'em up! Smash 'em up!" yelled the lieutenant in charge of that particular part of the advance in which Jimmy Blaise and his chums were included. "Smash 'em up, boys!"

"Wow! We're with you!" howled Franz. "Smash 'em up!"

Forward they surged, the gallant American lads, who a short time before were peaceful clerks, factory and farm hands and happy college lads, and some boys who instinctively shrank from the mere thought of killing. But now their spirits were on fire with the sacred wine of liberty, and they were daring as they had never dared before. Their daring was imbued with right, and other than this nothing will stand.

The gray mists of morning swirled this way and that, blown not so much by nature's wind as by the bursts from the flaming mouths of great guns. And through this mist rushed the Americans, some to horrible death or agony, and some to escape scatheless—to inflict just punishment on a mass of men who had lost all sense of right and wrong—men who had reverted to beasts.

"Are we all here?" yelled Jimmy, above the horrid din of battle, as he tried to see if Bob, Roger and the others were near him.

"I guess we're here—yet," snapped back Franz, grimly. "No telling how long we shall be, though!"

"Come on now—sharp's the word!" yelled the commanding officer. "Separate there, you!" he cried to Jimmy and the other four, for they were too close together. "Spread out! You're too good a target for a machine-gun as you stand!"

They knew the advice was good, and they took it. But they did not separate too far, for they wanted to be together as they went into this fight. It might be the last for all or any one of them.

The din was terrific. It seemed as if all the guns of the world were letting go together, and as Jimmy rushed forward, firing at a foe he could not see, he reflected that this same terrific havoc and riot of sound was taking place for miles along the front held by the Americans, and also along the sectors where the gallant French and British were disputing with the Huns the right to rule the world.

"Forward! Forward! No lagging!" cried the young lieutenant, leading his men. It was getting lighter now, as the sun arose, but the orb itself could not be seen because of the smoke and mist.

But he need not have concerned himself about the laggards. There were none in the 509th Infantry. Too often had they had their mettle proved.

A shell rushed screechingly over Jimmy's head seemingly within a few feet of him, and instinctively he ducked. Then he almost laughed at himself, for he realized that if he heard the noise he was safe.

"We're getting closer," mused Jimmy as he leaped forward, firing as he went, now crouching down, and again standing partly upright, as he hurried on. He and his chums were passing through an orchard, now, on their way to come to grips with the Germans. That is, it had been an orchard, but all that was left of it now were a few broken stumps of trees. The firing of heavy guns, and the bursting of big shells had wiped out the work of nature.

There came an explosion on Jimmy's left—an explosion from a small German shell that blew up a section of the orchard, tossing the blackened and gnarled stumps high in the air. And with the stumps were mingled poor, twisted human bodies.

For one terrible moment Jimmy feared for Franz and Iggy, whom he had last noted almost at the very spot where the shell exploded. His heart turned faint within him. But it was no time to falter. One must not halt nor turn back even though one's own brother were torn to pieces. Forward was the word in that grim and terrible fighting. Forward to your own death, perhaps, to the death of those you held most dear! Forward to insure life and happiness for those who would come after! Such was the sacred duty!

And then, to his great relief, Jimmy heard a voice he knew well exclaim:

"Ach! Him was one big whizz-bang, yes!"

"You said it, Iggy!" shouted Franz, and Jimmy saw his two comrades emerge from the smoke and dust cloud, and rush forward. They had just escaped death by the shell, which sent into eternity six beloved bunkies of the 509th.

"Well, they're alive yet!" grimly mused Jimmy, as he fired and crouched down. A look to the right showed him Roger and Bob doing the same thing. So far the five Brothers had suffered no harm.

But the battle was only beginning. The German big guns had not yet opened in force to reply to the challenge of the American heavy artillery. So far the barrage had, in a great measure, protected our lads. Now they were to move forward again. The guns at the rear were elevated, to send the bursting shrapnel further into the German ranks—to prevent them from rushing at the advancing American troops.

And now was a critical time, for even in spite of the barrage some parties of Huns, in bomb-proofs, might suddenly arise and confront the Americans. There was a chance for close fighting.

But it did not come. That part of No Man's Land over which Jimmy and his chums were advancing, leaping from shell crater to mud hole, and from one slimy pool to another, seemed to have been cleared of Huns.

Once again came the explosion of a comparatively large shell, and again, hurled aloft in a shower of stones and dirt, went the bodies of a half score of Americans. The Germans were taking frightful toll.

"This way! This way!" suddenly ordered the lieutenant. "Into the woods!"

Jimmy saw a large grove of trees on his left. He turned toward them, and he noted that Franz and Iggy were ahead of him, while Bob and Roger came in the rear.

And, just as they reached the somewhat sheltering woods, there sounded from the air above them several explosions, and with them was an undercurrent of humming and droning as if from a million swarms of bees.

"The Boche aeroplanes! They're right over us—a whole flock of 'em!" cried Roger. "And they're dropping bombs on us!"



CHAPTER XVII

A BATTLE OF THE AIR

What Roger had said was only too true. The advance of the American army had been halted, at least temporarily, by a sudden attack from a large number of German aeroplanes. The Fokkers had arisen from far enough back of the place where the American shells were falling to escape them. And then they had sailed directly over the advancing Americans, the center formation of the Huns' ships of the air being almost directly over where our five heroes were now stationed in the woods.

"Bombs! I should say so!" cried Jimmy, as one landed on the other edge of the woods, and blew a great hole in the ground. "This is getting too close for comfort!"

The German machines, having flown from the direction of their own lines across the American front, dropping bombs that did great execution, were now coming back again, to repeat the performance, it was very evident.

"Why didn't we bring up some anti-aircraft guns?" demanded Bob, as though some officer, immediately over him, had neglected this precaution.

"Guess no one expected the Huns would try this trick," said Roger. "It's a daring move, all right."

"And it's a dangerous one for us, too!" added Jimmy, grimly. "These woods are a pretty good protection against shrapnel and machine-gun fire, but they're absolutely useless when it comes to screening us from aeroplane bombs. Of course we can hide from the sight of the flying Huns, but they must know this wood is full of Americans, and a bomb dropped anywhere among the trees will get some of us. It's fierce!"

"You said it!" cried Franz. "Wow! That was a bad one!"

A bomb—one of the winged affairs that wrought such deadly havoc in Paris and London—had fallen not one hundred feet from where the five Brothers were crouching in the underbrush. The concussion jarred them, and the force of the explosion uprooted several large trees that injured a number of the command, while the bomb itself killed three in dreadful fashion.

"Why don't our flying lads get after 'em?" demanded Franz. "Surely we have some planes over here now—in fact, I know we have; though not nearly enough. Where are they?"

Well might he ask that, for the Germans were circling around, now over the woods and again over the open country, dropping their bombs, which exploded, doing terrible damage, killing and wounding many.

Suddenly Bob, who was gazing skyward in despair, clutched Jimmy's arm and cried:

"Look! Look! There they are! There come our boys! American machines! See the Indian head! Now we'll see Mr. Hun on the run! Oh, boy!"

Jimmy gazed for a moment in the direction indicated by his excited churn. Then he exclaimed:

"You're right! The American aviators are here at last, and I'll wager it wasn't their fault that they didn't get here sooner! Now for a fight in the air!"

And up just beneath the clouds, sometimes out of sight in the mist, the American flying men attacked the enemy. Now there was no time for the Huns to loose their bombs. They must look to their own safety. No longer did they have all the odds on their side.

"Look! Look! See our man engage those two!" shouted Roger.

They all saw what he meant. One intrepid American airman had headed for two Fokkers which were flying directly toward him, close together.

But in another instant one of the German planes was seen to swerve to one side, and then it darted downward, and in a manner to indicate that its pilot had been killed or wounded, for the machine was out of control. Like a dead leaf it descended, crashing into a shapeless mass in a field some distance from the woods.

"Now he's after the other!" cried Bob. "Oh, they're going to collide!"

But he spoke without knowledge of the skill to be shown by the American pilot and his accompanying gunner. For, just as it appeared as though the two hostile craft would come together in a mid-air crash, the American machine seemed to slide up and over its opponent. And then, just as the first German had done, the enemy craft crumpled up, and down it went in dizzying whirls.

"Two at once! That's going some!" yelled Jimmy, capering about. They were comparatively out of danger now, sheltered as they were in the woods from the artillery and rifle and machine-gun fire of the Germans. And no more airship bombs were being dropped.

"Some stunt, that!" declared Bob. "Wonder who they were—those Americans?"

"I hope they live through it so we can find out," voiced Franz. The battle in the air was now going on fiercely. There were ten American machines attacking more than double that number of Germans, and, as was always the case, the Huns were brave when they had the numerical advantage. They fought bitterly, and with skill—that could not be denied. And before the battle had been going on very long two American machines had been shot down. Whether the men in them had been killed, or not, remained to be seen.

"It's sort of going against us," said Jimmy, with a dry, choking sob.

"This is fierce!" cried Roger. "Why don't we send up some more machines?"

"Haven't got 'em, maybe," remarked Franz. "Oh, look at that! They collided head on!"

This actually happened. One of the larger American machines, the ammunition probably having given out, was being attacked by a German Fokker. Knowing that it was either kill or be killed, the pilot of the craft with the Indian head painted on the underside of the wings took a desperate chance.

Straightening out his craft, he headed it directly toward that of his enemy. The latter tried to steer out of the way when it was seen what the game would be, but he was unable to do so.

They came together with what must have been a fearful crash, though of course not the faintest echo of it could be heard down in the woods. And then, locked together in a death embrace, the two machines hurtled over and over to earth, bursting into flames as they fell. They smashed down in a swamp, and all four airmen were killed—the two brave Americans and their perhaps no less intrepid German fighters.

"It's going to be a tight squeeze!" murmured Roger, as he and the others gazed aloft. "There's three of our machines done for and here come some more Germans. Oh, this is fierce!"

"More German machines? Where!" cried Jimmy.

"There!" and Roger pointed to the sky behind the German planes. "Ten more of 'em!" he cried. "Now we're done for, sure!"

"Those aren't Hun planes! They're French!" yelled Bob. "See, they're French! They've circled up behind the Germans! Now we have 'em between two fires!"

And this was just what happened. The French, seeing that the battle of the air was going against their American allies, had hastily sent up a squadron of speedy craft. These arose very high, flew over and above the Germans, out of sight, and then, coming down, attacked them in the rear.

This was too much for Fritz. He had no taste for a battle against even less odds than this. The Fokkers turned to flee, but it was too late for all but two of them. These managed to elude the American and French cloud-fighters and disappeared in the mist in the direction of the German lines. It was presumed they reached there safely.

One after another the German machines were sent down, though at a price, for three Frenchmen were killed and another American went to his death. But he had paved the way with two Hun craft to his credit.

"Now it's over—all but the shouting!" cried Roger, and he was capering about in an improvised dance of joy when Bob cried:

"Look! Look! Here comes a German machine down, and it's going to land right about here! Oh, boy! This is bringing 'em down for keeps!"

His chums looked to where he pointed. A German craft was coming down, but in such fashion that showed it was in volplane control, at least. Swiftly it came down, headed for a field not far from the woods, in the edge of which were the five Brothers.



CHAPTER XVIII

CAPTURED

Swiftly as falls a bird with a broken wing, down came the German aeroplane. It was now within plain sight of the Americans stationed in the woods, and, as it happened, a squad, of which our five Brothers formed the major part, were nearer than anyone else.

"I can see their faces!" cried Bob. "They look worried all right!"

And well the Germans might, for they were being forced to land within the enemy's lines.

"Guess their gasolene tank was shot to pieces," commented Roger. "The plane doesn't seem to be damaged much."

And this, later, they learned was the case. A bullet had pierced the petrol tank of the Boche craft, and the pilot and gunner had been forced to land.

Down shot the craft, and, a moment later, it made a good landing in a field. The machine ran along over the rough ground for a little distance and then two figures, clad in regulation flying costumes, were seen to leap out. They paused for a moment, trying to set fire to their machine, so that it might not fall, comparatively undamaged as it was, into the hands of the Americans. But this was not to be.

"Don't let them get away with that!" cried an officer, quickly. "Pick off those two men, boys!"

Instantly rifles began to crack, and as the bullets sang about the ears of the Huns they stopped their incendiary operations and began to run. How they thought they could escape is inexplainable. They were surrounded by Americans, and were some distance away from their own lines.

"Come on, fellows!" cried Jimmy to his chums. "Don't let 'em get away. We can head 'em off!"

"You said something!" yelled Bob. "Oh, boy! That was some fight!"

The battle in the air was over now, and though there had been a lull in the contest in the immediate vicinity of our heroes, the firing was going on in both wings of the American army.

Emerging from their shelter in the woods, so as to intercept at an angle the fleeing Germans, Jimmy and his four Brothers ran hotfoot over the open ground. Then the Huns saw the five lads coming, and turned, as though to go in another direction.

"No you don't!" shouted Bob, as he sent a well-aimed bullet over the head of the foremost German. He did not intend to hit the fellow—merely to scare him. And it had that effect.

The man stopped suddenly, and raised his hands in the air.

"Kamerad!" he bellowed.

His companion was seen to be fumbling in his belt, as though trying to get a hand grenade or lose his revolver. But the man who had surrendered, realizing what would happen if any resistance were shown, gave his companion a kick that sent him sprawling.

"Kamerad!" cried the kicker. And his companion, struggling to rise, echoed:

"Kamerad!"

"You'd better surrender!" grimly observed Jimmy, as he and his chums rushed up.

Quickly the Germans were disarmed, and then they were marched back, ahead of their captors, to where stood the captain of the company of which the five Brothers formed so active a part.

"Good work, Sergeant," complimented the captain, when Jimmy, as a ranking non-com. over his companions, came back with the two German aviators. "Good work! And you may have the pleasure of taking the prisoners to the rear. We'll be held up here some time, I fancy. Report to me when you return. And don't let those fellows get away!" he added significantly.

"We'll take care of that, sir," said Jimmy grimly.

"Come on, you fellows! Hike!" ordered Roger to the captured airmen. And a little later they were turned over to the proper authorities in the rear. Some valuable plans and information concerning German movements were found on the prisoners, and their capture was regarded as important. Jimmy and his chums received commendation, and were mentioned in the official reports of the day's grim doings.

"And now we'd better be getting back," suggested Jimmy, who was in charge of the prisoner squad. "The fighting may start again any minute, and we don't want to miss it."

"I should say not!" cried Bob. "Now that we can have a show for our white agate there'll be some fun in it. But to have to crouch down in a wood and let some one take pot shots at you from overhead isn't my idea of a war at all."

They were marching along a camouflaged road when they saw an American and a French machine coming down together on a level spot not far away.

"Wonder if they're in trouble?" asked Roger.

"Doesn't seem so," answered Bob. "They seem to have the planes under control. But let's go and see. Maybe we can help. They'll surely need some attention after that fierce fighting."

The two machines, one a single seater and the other a double, came to earth at the same time, and not far apart. And at the sight of two aviators getting out of the American craft Jimmy gave a yell and exclaimed:

"Well, if it isn't the Twinkle Twins! Good enough! What do you know about that, fellows? The Twinkle Twins were among those who saved our bacon this day!"

And it was, indeed, John and Gerald Twinkleton, otherwise known as Jack and Jerry, or the Twinkle Twins, who had emerged from the aeroplane.

"Well, of all good things! Look, Jerry!" dried Jack. "It's the five Brothers!"

"Sure enough! Oh, say, what are you fellows doing here?" asked Jerry.

"Same as you were—disposing of some Boches," answered Jimmy. "Are you hurt?"

"Not a scratch, though our plane was hit a lot," said Jack. "But we ran out of gas, and had to come down here. Glad we did, too, or we'd have missed seeing you. Cousin Emile is in the same boat as ourselves. Here he comes! He'll be glad to see you."

And from the smaller plane there emerged an aviator whose very stride across the field told what he was—a brave, intrepid man. Such was Emile Voissard, cousin of the Twinkle Twins, and right well had he earned the title, "Flying Terror of France."

"Ah, my American friends!" exclaimed Voissard, as he came over, acknowledging the greetings he received. "I am glad to see you again. It is good—tres bien!" and he smiled.

"Well, say, it was good to see you and the other Frenchmen go at those Huns!" exclaimed Bob. "If we had known the Twinkle Twins were up there among the Americans we'd have been worse scared than we were, when we saw the Germans getting the best of it."

"Ah, it is nothing. Voila! What would you have?" and Voissard shrugged his shoulders. "They are but beasts and they fight as the beasts—they run, too, as the beasts! n'est ce pas?"

"Well, two of 'em tried to run, but we landed 'em!" exclaimed Roger, with a laugh. "We just took 'em to the rear. Their petrol tank was shot full of holes."

"Was it a machine with a sort of double iron cross on it?" asked Jack.

"That was it," said Roger.

"That's the one we couldn't seem to get," went on Jack. "She was a bit too speedy for us. But it seems we got her after all."

"Or Jimmy and his bunch did", commented Jerry.

"Oh, well, it's all the same as long as they were 'got'!" and Jack clapped Jimmy on the back.

"You are keeping up your good work, I see," commented Voissard. "France shall soon be free of the mark of the beast!"

"Well, you're doing your share, sir!" commented Roger.

"It is nothing! If I could only do a thousand times as much!" and the man who had earned such an enviable rating shook his head. "There are so many of the Huns! So many! But we shall never give up! Never!" and he drew himself up determinedly.

"But, my friends, we must not linger here," he went on. "The battle will soon start again, and the fortunes of war may turn against us. We should go and telephone for petrol, that we may take our machines back behind the lines, to safety."

"Yes, we'll have to do that," declared one of the Twinkle Twins. "See you again, boys!" and with waves of their hands they set off to find the nearest telephone, that they might send word of their plight to their hangars.

"Well, good luck!" called Jimmy and his chums to the brave Frenchman and his no less brave cousins.

"That was some coincidence—that the Twinkles and their cousin Emile should be fighting for us and we not know it," commented Roger, as the five Khaki Boys trudged back. "I should say so," agreed Bob. "Say, we'd better hurry!" he went on. "Sounds as if they were starting the game once more!"

The noise of the big and little guns was beginning again, and hardly had our heroes reached their command in the woods than the order came to go forward.

With yells of savage delight it was received, and then there came a desperate dash that carried Jimmy and his friends, as well as those with him, well up toward the German lines.

Fierce and bloody was the fighting, and there was death in it, too, for many. But ever did the Americans press on, slowly but steadily driving back the Germans. On all sides great guns roared, and ears were nearly split with the riot of sound.

When night came it found our five Brothers occupying some of the trenches so long held by the Huns, who had been driven out. It was the start of the movement that was to clean the Boches from France.

Tired, weary, blood-stained, dirty, hungry and thirsty—that was the condition of all the fighters. And yet they would be ready to do it all over again the next day, after a little rest and food. And food they had, though not of the best.

"Sergeant Barlow and Corporal Dalton take listening post number seven," the sergeant-major ordered two of the Brothers, after what passed for supper. "Be on the alert. The Germans will very likely try a counter-attack."

Bob and Roger prepared for their dismal night trick. Franz and Iggy were sent to another part of the line, and Jimmy was on duty in the dugout, assisting the telephone operator.

The night settled down. It was comparatively quiet now in the trenches, in front of which barbed-wire entanglements had been hastily put up. The Germans had done the same, and between the stretches of wire another No Man's Land had been established.

Worn and weary, Roger and Bob waited for what they feared might happen. But as the hours passed, and there was no sign nor movement from the German lines, they began to think there would be no fighting.

Suddenly, however, the blackness of the night was broken by the red glare of a rocket.

"What's that?" cried Bob.

"Signal of some sort," replied Roger. "Guess we'd better get on our feet. The attack may be coming."

"Shall we go back and report this?"

"No, they must have seen it as soon as we did. We're only to report if we see any of the enemy approaching this post."

They waited. Another rocket—a green one this time—soared aloft. And then with a suddenness that was startling, a terrific firing broke out from the German lines. "Here it comes—the counter-attack!" cried Bob.

As he spoke he and his companion saw a dark, massed body moving toward them.

"Come on!" cried Bob. "We've got to report this!"

But before they had time to run back more than a few paces they were surrounded by an attacking party of Germans. On either side of Bob and Roger there was fierce fighting now going on. The two lads who had been on duty in the listening post felt themselves caught and their rifles wrested away before they had a chance to use them, and then they were dragged over toward the German trenches.

"What's it all mean?" gasped Bob.

"We're captured!" said Roger. "Keep still! Don't give any information no matter what they do! Keep still!"

"I will!" said Bob grimly.

One of the Germans dragging him along cried out an insulting epithet and struck Bob across the mouth.

And then the captives were dragged away in the darkness.



CHAPTER XIX

THREE PRISONERS

The two Khaki Boys who had been on listening post duty were at once disarmed by the Huns, and fairly dragged along in the darkness over rough ground and among strands of barbed wire that scratched them, and over stones that bruised them.

Bob had received a cut on the forehead, either from a blow or from a glancing bullet, and the blood, running down into his eyes, blinded him temporarily.

"Are you here, Roger?" he managed to gasp, as two burly Germans pulled him along.

"Yes, old man, I'm here! Say, but this is tough luck!"

Again he was struck and ordered to keep silent.

Back they were hurried toward the German lines, whence had issued the raiding party that had had such luck as to defeat a small and very much surprised body of Americans. Perhaps it is not to their credit to say they were surprised, but the truth must be told. Some one was negligent, and failed to give the alarm in time.

Mackson and Jones, privates, who had been in the listening post next to the one where Roger and Bob were stationed, had escaped in the confusion. Amid the attack and counter-attack, and while the firing and throwing of hand grenades was hottest, they ran back to the trenches, calling out word of what had happened.

Jimmy was just coming on duty when the attack of the Germans took place, and, hearing what Mackson gasped out, cried to him:

"Did you see anything of Bob and Roger?"

"Yes, they're gone!" was the answer.

"Gone? You mean killed?" and Jimmy felt as though his heart would stop beating.

"No. They put up a good fight, but the Huns were too many for 'em. Roger and Bob were taken off by the Boches!"

"Captured! Prisoners!" cried Jimmy. For an instant he hardly knew what to do. The confusion was at its height, and there seemed to be some demoralization among the Americans at this particular post. But order was gradually coming out of it. A captain and two lieutenants hurried up and took charge of matters. A brisk artillery fire was ordered to sweep the German lines, to prevent, if possible, any further advance in force. At the same time up and down the trenches and from dugouts the gallant doughboys poured, ready to take revenge for the attack of the Huns.

"Come on! Come on!" cried the captain, and with wild cheers and yells his men followed him. Jimmy had a sudden thought. Rushing up to the captain, who was listening to a report from a corporal who had been wounded, and who had escaped after being captured, Jimmy cried:

"Two of my friends have been caught—Sergeant Barlow and Corporal Dalton. May I take a relief party out, sir, and rescue them?"

"Yes, Sergeant Blaise! Take six men with you, and good luck! Keep in touch with us, though. We don't want to be separated at a time like this!"

"Yes, sir!" cried Jimmy, his heart now on fire with a desperate resolve. He wished Franz and Iggy could be of the rescue party, but they were already out of the trench, under the leadership of one of the lieutenants, making a fierce counter-attack.

Quickly Jimmy picked out six privates, and rapidly explained what he wanted. They ran forward in the darkness. Shells were exploding overhead, there were flashes of rifle fire on every side, and a more continuous stream of wicked spurts from machine guns. Rockets were being sent up from the German lines, together with star-shells, and these made the scene of the fight brilliantly light with, now and then, recurrent periods of intense blackness.

"Barlow and Dalton captured?" cried one of the privates whom Jimmy had selected. "That's tough!"

"We'll bring 'em back, or go over with 'em!" added another.

"Come on!" cried Jimmy, and he led the way.

He had only a vague notion of where to look for Bob and Roger. But he and his companions in arms saw immediately ahead of them a dark mass of fighting men. And they judged this to be the attacking party of Germans, taking away prisoners, and fighting off the attacks of those Americans who had hurried to the rescue.

"Come on! Let's get in on that!" cried Jimmy. "Forward!"

"Forward she is!" came the grim answer from one of the lads he was leading.

There came a fierce burst of machine-gun fire from the German line to the left of that fighting, struggling bunch of forms. It was followed by yells of rage, mingled with pain, and then deep groans.

"Anyone here hit?" asked Jimmy.

"I think Jepson has gone out," some one answered. Jimmy hesitated. He was between two duties—that toward one of his immediate force, and the desire to rescue his chums. But he knew his duty as an officer required him to look after his command first. He ran back to where two of the privates were bending over Jepson. A look and a touch convinced Jimmy that the man was past all aid.

"We'll carry him back later," he said. Then, stifling his own feelings he cried: "Come on!"

Grimly his men followed.

On in the darkness they stumbled, now scarcely seeing where they were going, and again blinded by fierce lights. Their ears were deafened by the rattle and bang and roar of big and little guns.

"Why don't you call out?" suggested one of the remaining men in Jimmy's small command. "Maybe Bob and Roger could hear you and answer. Then you'd know where they are."

"Good idea! I will!" shouted Jimmy. He had to yell just then, for a burst of artillery fire from the German lines, answering the guns of the Americans, drowned all ordinary talk.

Then, when it was comparatively quiet again, Jimmy cried:

"Bob! Roger! Where are you? We're coming to the rescue!"

"Americans over this way!" was shouted in answer. "Over to your right!"

Whether or not this was either Bob or Roger, Jimmy could not tell. But the words were English, though immediately afterward could be heard guttural German voices.

"That's funny!" said one of Jimmy's men. "I thought the main fighting was over to our left. Now they tell us to go to our right."

"Well, we'll take a chance," said Jimmy.

He turned and was about to lead his small command in that direction when they were subjected to a fierce burst of fire. There was no time to drop and escape it, though Jimmy called to the men to lie flat as soon as he realized that a machine gun was aimed in their direction. For two of his men there was never any more need of orders. They were instantly killed, and one was so wounded that he could not move. This only left Jimmy and two men. But the sergeant had no thought of turning back.

"Will you stick?" he asked, when the sudden spurt of machine bullets was over.

"Go ahead!" was the grim reply.

They had hardly taken a dozen paces when from the ground all about them dark forms suddenly arose, and from what were afterward found to be shell holes, and the remains of trenches, other forms leaped. There were commands in German, and, in less time than it takes to tell it, Jimmy and his two companions were seized by several German soldiers, their arms taken away, and, after being beaten and kicked, they were rushed over toward the Hun lines. Dazed, wounded and sick at heart, Jimmy could hardly understand what had happened. Then it was borne to him that he and his rescue party—or what was left of it—had been the victim of a trick. They had run into an ambuscade of Germans who were hidden among the holes and ruined trenches, and had risen up to capture more prisoners.

Rousing himself, and determining to find out how many of his fellow soldiers were in the same disastrous position as himself, Jimmy cried:

"Any of the Five Hundred and Ninth here? I'm Sergeant Blaise and—"

"Great guns!" cried a voice Jimmy well knew. "It's Blazes! We're here, Jimmy!" went on the voice in a half sob. "Bob and I are here—prisoners!"

"Then we're in the same boat!" answered Jimmy, who had recognized Roger's voice. "I'll try and get to you, and then—"

"Shut up—American pig!" cried a Hun in fairly good English as he struck Jimmy in the face. And then the Sergeant knew how he had been betrayed. It was by a German who spoke English.



CHAPTER XX

THE CAPTAIN AGAIN

Worried over the possible fate in store for them, sick at heart, smarting with wounds and bruises, and with Jimmy regretting the deaths of the men he had led out to help rescue Bob and Roger, it is no wonder that the three Brothers hardly knew what happened in the next hour. All they remembered was that they were pushed, dragged and fairly punched along in the darkness that was, every now and then, lighted by gun flashes or the star-shells. The fighting was still going on, though it was growing less intense, and it seemed evident that the attacking party of raiding Germans had been beaten back.

But it was at a heavy cost, for many Americans had been killed or wounded, and several taken prisoners, including our three friends. Later, however, they learned that the losses of the Huns had been heavier, except in the matter of prisoners. Only two had been captured as against perhaps a score of Americans. The raid had been a surprise, and this quality of it led to its success.

For a time, after he had learned of the presence of his two chums in the raiding party of Huns, Jimmy was separated from them in the darkness and confusion. He could not locate them by calling their names, for each time he tried this he was struck by one of his captors, which led him, finally, to desist. He realized that if he exasperated the Germans too much they would not hesitate to kill him, even though he was a prisoner.

But later on, when it seemed as though he had been pulled and dragged over miles and miles of rough country, Jimmy was aware that the party of men who had him in charge had been joined by another squad of the Boches. And to his delight he heard some one say:

"Wonder what became of Blazes?"

It was Bob's voice, and Jimmy at once answered:

"Here I am! Is Roger there?"

"Yes," came a voice out of the darkness, and it ended in a gasp of pain, as if the words had been stopped by a blow.

Jimmy felt as though he could tear himself loose and hurl himself on the cruel captors, but he was held fast.

There was rapid talk in German among the members of the raiding party, and it could not be doubted that they were exulting over the success of the sortie, such as it had been.

A little later Jimmy was prodded forward again by the butts of German guns, and he was aware that Roger and Bob were advancing along with him. Whether there were any other Americans in that party Jimmy could not tell, as it was dark now, since the "fireworks" had ceased.

"Tough luck!" murmured Bob, as he limped along beside Roger.

"You said it," answered Jimmy. They spoke in low voices so as not to incur the further enmity of their captors.

"What do you think they'll do with us?" asked Roger.

"Try to get information," was Jimmy's answer. "But don't give them any! Keep stiff upper lips and let 'em ask all they want to. Don't answer!"

"We won't!" murmured Roger and Bob, but they did not realize how hard it was going to be to keep that resolve.

Forward in the darkness they stumbled, being pushed and shoved when they were not roughly seized and dragged, and at last they seemed to have been brought to a place where they were to be detained for some time. They were led down into a trench and along this in single file, a German preceding and following each of the three captives, so they were thus separated. They discovered that the German trenches were not much better as regarded mud and water than their own, and they did not have the protection of "duck boards" except in a few places. So that the progress of Bob, Roger and Jimmy was through mud that came nearly to the knees.

Suddenly their captors halted. They had reached a wider part of the trench, and in the dim light from a small electric bulb, which indicated this place to be one of the more permanent German positions, the three Brothers saw a concrete dugout.

The door of this was kicked open, and after the three Khaki Boys had been hurriedly searched, and all their personal belongings taken from them, they were thrust inside in the darkness and the door was closed.

And then, clinging together in their pain and woeful state, they told each other what had happened—Roger and Bob relating how they had been cut off and captured, and Jimmy telling of his leading the rescue party, only to be betrayed into going in the wrong direction, deceived by the call of some Hun whose English was good enough to do the trick.

"And now we're here," sighed Bob. "What's to become of us?"

"I think they'll take us before some officer and question us," said Jimmy. "They'll wait until morning, though, to give us a longer taste of misery."

"Morning!" gasped Roger. "Will morning ever come to a hole like this?" and his eyes tried to pierce the blackness.

"There may be a window to it, or some way of letting light in, unless it's away down underground," Jimmy went on. "I couldn't tell what it was from the outside."

"Me, either," admitted Bob. "Well, this sure is tough luck!"

"Don't be downhearted!" advised Roger. "Our boys may attack in a few hours and rescue us."

"Yes, they may," assented Jimmy, and this cheered them up for a time.

How long the hours seemed! Would morning ever come, and would they see a gleam of light when it did? Or would they still be in blackness?

This question was answered for them some time later, when, after being sunk in painful silence, they were aroused by a faint gleam coming in through what proved to be a small opening in the roof of the dugout. It was a little gleam of sunshine, and it cheered the boys almost as much as if it had been news from home.

"We're not in an underground dungeon, anyhow," said Jimmy.

The light grew stronger, and presently the door of their prison was opened. "I hope it's breakfast," gasped Bob. "Even if it's only a glass of water."

But it was not even that. Several burly, brutal Germans leered in the faces of the boys, and one, who spoke fairly good English, ordered them to come out.

"Where are you taking us?" demanded Jimmy.

"You'll see," was the enigmatical answer.

They did not have long to wait, for, presently, they were taken before a German officer, whose rank they were unable to determine, though he seemed to wield considerable authority.

He was seated at a table in a dugout most comfortably fitted up. Before him was a mass of papers, and at his side stood a bottle of wine from which he poured a glass now and then, as he puffed at a pipe. There were several others in the room, some officers and others, clerks or secretaries.

I shall not relate what followed. Suffice it to say that the reason for the night of misery inflicted on the boys, and the failure to give them breakfast, was soon evident. It was to break their spirits, and cause them to answer and give information as to their own forces opposed to the Huns.

Every device of refined and barbarous cruelty was practiced as well as every trick of cunning. But the three remained steadfast, and even laughed in the faces of their captors. But not a jot of vital information did they give, though they boasted in exaggerated terms of the strength of the commands to which they were attached, and told of countless armies on the way over to wipe the Huns from the face of the earth.

At last the German officer, in a burst of rage, ordered the three prisoners taken away, and this was done with great roughness. This coupled with their terrible night and the mental and physical torture inflicted at the inquisition, made the young soldiers sick at heart and body. Once more they were thrust into their horrible prison, and not until nearly noon was any food given them.

Then it was only some greasy, slimy water, probably intended for soup, together with some chunks of mouldy bread.

"But we've got to eat it, boys!" said Jimmy. "We've got to keep up our strength."

"What's the good of it!" sighed Bob, with a half cry of anguish.

"So we can escape, of course!" said Jimmy with more fierceness and energy than he really felt. "Think I'm going to stay in this hole?"

"How are you going to get out?" Roger wanted to know.

"I'll show you!" went on Jimmy, and by his strength of character, and by his forced spirits he bolstered up the courage of his companions. They managed to choke down the food, vile as it was, and seemed to feel a little better for it.

Their miseries of the next few days I will not detail. In fact, the boys themselves could not remember all of them, horrible as they were. Again and again they were questioned, but always they remained steadfast, and gave no information that could be of any value to the Huns.

Then they were taken from their horrible prison and removed to a camp, some distance in the rear, where there were a number of other Allied captives, in as miserable a condition as that to which the three Khaki Boys were now reduced.