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Title: Army Boys on German Soil

Author: Homer Randall

Release Date: July, 2004 [EBook #6140]
[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
[This file was first posted on November 19, 2002]

Edition: 10

Language: English

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Army Boys on German Soil

[Illustration: "One move and I'll blow your brains out," he
snapped.]

ARMY BOYS ON GERMAN SOIL

Our Doughboys Quelling the Mobs

BY

HOMER RANDALL

AUTHOR OF "ARMY BOYS IN FRANCE," "ARMY BOYS ON THE FIRING LINE,"
"ARMY BOYS MARCHING INTO GERMANY," ETC.




ARMY BOYS ON GERMAN SOIL




CONTENTS


CHAPTER

I THE FLASH FROM THE GUNS

II WRAPPED IN MYSTERY

III CAUGHT IN A STORM

IV THE RUINED CASTLE

V CONSPIRATORS

VI THE BAFFLED PLOTTERS

VII A CLOSE CALL

VIII JUST IN TIME

IX THE COLONEL'S WARNING

X FROM THE SKY

XI MARSHAL FOCH AND GENERAL PERSHING

XII TORN FROM MOORINGS

XIII GERMAN RIOTING

XIV ON THE TRAIL

XV A BARE CHANCE

XVI RAISING THE TRAP DOOR

XVII A PERILOUS SITUATION

XVIII THE CRITICAL MOMENT

XIX TURNING THE TABLES

XX THE CLAWS OF THE HUNS

XXI SQUARING ACCOUNTS

XXII WILL THE GERMANS SIGN?

XXIII ON THE VERGE OF DISCOVERY

XXIV THE DEADLY PHIAL

XXV THE TREATY SIGNED




ARMY BOYS ON GERMAN SOIL

CHAPTER I

THE FLASH FROM THE GUNS


"I tell you, Bart, I don't like the looks of things," remarked
Frank Sheldon to his chum, Bart Raymond, as the two stood on a
corner in the German city of Coblenz on the Rhine.

"What's on your mind?" inquired Bart, as he drew the collar of his
raincoat more snugly around his neck and turned his back to the
sleet-laden wind that was fairly blowing a gale. "I don't see
anything to get stirred up about except this abominable weather.
It's all I can do to keep my feet."

"It is a pretty tough night to be out on patrol duty," agreed
Frank. "But it wasn't that I was thinking about. It's the way
these Huns have been acting lately."

"Are you thinking of that sergeant of ours that was found stabbed
to death the other night?" asked Bart, with quickened interest.

"Not so much that," replied Frank, "although that's one of the
things that shows the way the wind is blowing. But it's the surly
way the whole population is acting. Haven't you noticed it?"

"There certainly is a difference," admitted Bart. "Everything was
peaches and cream when we first came. The people fairly fell over
themselves in trying to tell us how glad they were to have the
Americans here instead of the French and English. Now they're
getting chesty again. A couple of fellows passed me a little while
ago who looked at me as if they'd like to slip a knife into me if
they dared."

"They hate us all right," declared Frank. "It makes them sore as
the mischief to have Americans keeping the watch on the Rhine.
They're mad enough to bite nails every time they're reminded of
it."

"And that's pretty often," laughed Bart, "for they can't go out
into the street without seeing an American uniform somewhere.
We've got this old town pretty well policed, and if any trouble
starts we'll put it down in a jiffy."

"Well, trouble's coming all right," prophesied Frank. "There are
lots of new faces in the city, fellows who seem to have come from
the outside. You know Germany's being ripped up the back
everywhere by mobs, and the red flag is flying in Berlin. I have a
hunch that these outsiders have come to start the same thing
here."

"If they do they'll get more than they bargained for," said Bart
grimly. "They'll find they're monkeying with a buzz saw. What our
fellows would do to them would be a sin and a shame. But here come
Tom and Billy, if I'm any sort of a guesser."

"Right you are," replied Frank, as he descried two uniformed
figures approaching, their heads bent away from the icy gale which
was increasing in fury as the night wore on.

"Hello, fellows," was the greeting that came from one of the
newcomers, as they came into the flickering light of the street
lamp, near which Frank Sheldon and Bart Raymond were standing.
"This is a dandy night to be out patrolling--I don't think."

"A good night for ducks, Tom," replied Frank with a laugh.

"For polar bears, if you ask me," put in Billy Waldon, Tom's
companion, as he shook the drops from his raincoat. "How would it
be to be back in the barracks just now lapping up a smoking hot
cup of coffee? Oh, boy!"

"It wouldn't be bad--" Bart was beginning, when suddenly a rifle
cracked and a bullet whizzed by so close that it nearly grazed Tom
Bradford's ear.

"Shelter, fellows!" shouted Frank, as he leaped for an adjacent
hallway.

His companions followed him quickly, and crouching in the hall,
they peered out into the darkness to see if they could detect the
whereabouts of the would-be assassin.

But everything was quiet except for the roaring of the gale, and
the street seemed to be empty.

"Might as well look for a needle in a haystack," muttered Tom
Bradford. "We don't even know the direction from which the shot
came. You can bet that skunk made tracks as soon as he fired."

"It was a mighty close call for you, Tom," remarked Billy. "A half
inch closer and you would have been a goner."

"It would have been hard luck to have been laid out now after
having come through that Argonne fighting alive," grumbled Tom.
"I'd just like to have my hands right now on the cowardly Heinie
who tried to snuff me out."

"Don't you see, Bart, that I was right when I told you that
trouble was brewing?" remarked Frank.

"I guess you were, old man."

"It's because we've been too confoundedly easy with these
fellows," snorted Billy wrathfully. "We've gone on the theory that
if we treated 'em white and gave 'em a square deal they'd
appreciate it and behave themselves. We might have known better."

"The French and English know these ginks better than we do, and
they've put the boots into them from the start," growled Tom.
"There's been no namby-pamby dealing with the Huns in the bridge-
heads where they've held control. They've made the Boches walk
Spanish. If they didn't uncover when the flag went by, they
knocked their hats off for them. They know that the only argument
that a Hun understands is force, and they've gone on that theory
right along. And as a consequence the Heinies don't dare to peep
in the districts where the French and English run things. We ought
to take a leaf from their books and do the same."

"That's our good-natured American way of doing things," said Bart.
"But we're due to stiffen up a bit now. We're not going to stand
for attempts to murder in cold blood--"

He was interrupted by an exclamation from Frank.

"Quiet, fellows," he adjured in a low voice.

"See anything?" whispered Bart, who was nearest him.

"I thought I caught a glimpse of a fellow stealing into that alley
half-way down the block," returned Frank. "And there goes another
one," he added, with a trace of excitement in his voice.

"I was looking that way and I didn't see anything," murmured Billy
Waldon rather incredulously.

"I'd bank on Frank," returned Bart. "He has the best eyes of any
of us. They're regular telescopes."

"There goes another!" exclaimed Frank tensely. "There's something
doing there, sure as guns!"

"I know that alley," said Tom Bradford. "I've often looked into it
when I passed it on my beat. But it's a blind alley and doesn't
lead to any thing. It ends at a brick wall."

"All the better chance to bag them," replied Frank. "We'll wait
just a minute longer to see If any one else goes in, and then
we'll go down and nip the whole bunch. It's against regulations
for them to be on the streets at this hour, and you can bet
they're up to no good."

"I only hope the fellow's among them that fired that shot,"
murmured Tom vengefully.

They waited a moment or two longer, but Frank Sheldon's eyes
detected no other skulking figure and he gave the word to move.

"Have your clubs and pistols ready, but don't use the guns unless
you have to," he ordered, for when the Army Boys were together the
leadership by common consent devolved on Frank. "I guess the clubs
will do the business if it comes to any resistance on their part."

"Fists would be enough," muttered Tom, as with the others he
prepared to follow their leader.

Like so many ghosts they drifted out of the hallway, and, moving
in the shadow of the houses, though in the rain and darkness that
seemed almost unnecessary, they stealthily approached the entrance
to the alley.

It was in one of the poorer sections of the town, and the dwelling
houses were interspersed with factories and coal yards. On each
side of the alley stood the wall of a factory, three stories in
height. No light came from any window, and the alley itself was as
dark as pitch.

"Bart and I will stand on this side, and you two fellows take the
other side," whispered Frank, when they reached the mouth of the
alley. "Keep right on your toes and be ready to nab those fellows
when they come out."

The others did as directed and all waited, tense with expectation,
their clubs ready for instant service if resistance should be
offered.

The rain kept pouring down in torrents, and as it fell, a glaze
formed on the sidewalks, so that it was with difficulty that the
Army Boys kept their feet.

They were eager to bring the matter to a head, and the waiting in
drenching rain wore on their patience.

"Could they have possibly gone out some other way, leaving us here
to hold the bag?" queried Bart Raymond, after five minutes had
passed without result.

"I don't think so," returned Frank. "I'm dead sure there isn't any
way to get out except the way they went in. They're in there
holding a pow-wow of some kind."

Ten minutes more passed, and by that time even Frank had begun to
have doubts. Tom slipped over to him from the other side of the
alley.

"For the love of Mike! let's get a move on and go into the alley
and smoke them out," he whispered. "We can get them there just as
well as here."

"Just five minutes more," Frank replied. "They may hear us going
in and be on their guard, while if we nab them here we'll catch
them unawares. But if they're not out in that time, we'll go in
and round them up."

At the end of the stipulated time Frank gave the signal.

"Creep in as softly as you can," he admonished his comrades.
"Spread across so that they can't slip between us. They've got to
be somewhere between us and that brick wall at the back."

Moving with all the caution that their experience as scouts had
taught them in their frequent incursions into No Man's Land during
the war, the four Army Boys crept noiselessly into the darkness of
the alley.

Ten, twenty, thirty feet, and still no sign of their quarry. They
must be close to them now.

On they went, wonder gradually giving way to doubt, until with a
muttered exclamation Frank came plump up against the wall that
marked the alley's end.

"Stung!" he murmured in profound disgust.

His comrades gathered close about him.

"That's one on us," muttered Tom.

"We're done good and proper," agreed Billy.

"Are you dead sure that you saw them come in?" queried Bart of
Frank.

"I know I did," replied Frank, who although puzzled was not shaken
in his conviction.

"They must have been ghosts then," gibed Tom. "Nothing else could
have vanished through a brick wall."

Frank drew his flashlight from his pocket and flashed it about.
There was no one to be seen.

"That wall is perfectly blank," he murmured in perplexity. "Thirty
feet high if it's an inch. There isn't an opening in it anywhere."

"Could they have got into the windows of the building on either
side?" suggested Bart.

Frank swept the flashlight on the walls of the factories.

"Not a chance," he affirmed. "All these windows are protected with
iron bars and nothing could get between them. Those fellows seem
to have just melted away."

At that instant a report rang out, and the flashlight was knocked
from his hand by a bullet.

"Down, fellows!" he shouted, setting the example, and the next
moment all four were lying flat on the ground.

They were just in time, for there was a crackling of guns, and
other bullets sped over their heads.

"After them, boys!" yelled Frank, leaping to his feet. "They're at
the mouth of the alley. I saw the flash from their guns."

He sped for the street with his comrades close upon his heels,
their pistols drawn and ready for instant use.




CHAPTER II

WRAPPED IN MYSTERY


The Army Boys looked eagerly about them when they reached the
street, but could see no one. It was as though the earth had
opened and swallowed the men who had sought their lives.

They scattered and ran in every direction, searching all hallways
and side streets for blocks around, but nothing rewarded their
endeavors, and it was a bedraggled and exasperated quartette that
finally came together again to compare notes and report failure.

"Never saw anything like it in my life!" snorted Tom. "It's as
though we were all bewitched. Somebody's wished a jinx on us. Some
ghosts are putting up a job on us."

"There was nothing ghostly about that bullet that knocked the
flashlight out of my hand or those other bullets that came singing
over our heads while we were hugging the ground," said Frank
grimly. "If I don't get to the bottom of this, you can call me a
Chinaman."

"It gets my goat to think of those Heinies chuckling to themselves
because they put one over on us," gritted Billy between his teeth.

"They laugh best who laugh last," growled Bart. "They'll laugh on
the other side of their mouth when we lay hands on them."

"If we ever do," muttered pessimistic Tom. "But here comes our
relief," he continued, as the light of a lantern hanging on the
arm of the foremost man revealed a group coming toward them. "High
time, too! I got drenched to the skin while I was lying on the
ground in that alley."

"Of course we'll have to report the whole thing to the corporal,
shan't we?" inquired Bart.

"I suppose we shall," Frank acquiesced, though reluctantly.
"Personally, I'd like to keep the whole thing up my sleeve until
we've solved the mystery. But there's danger abroad to-night, and
it wouldn't be fair to the boys who are going to take our places
not to put them on their guard."

The corporal of the guard now had come so close that the light of
his lantern fell upon the group of Army Boys.

"You fellows are all here, I see," said the corporal, who was the
boys' old friend, Wilson. "What was that shooting going on here?
None of you hurt, I hope."

"Dripping wet but right as a trivet," Frank replied with a smile,
and then went on to make his report of the occurrences of the
night while the corporal listened with close attention.

"It's certainly strange," he commented when Frank had finished.
"It's one of many queer things that are happening lately. I'll
report the facts at headquarters and you may be called upon to
tell your story there. But now you are off duty, and you can light
out for the barracks."

They were only too glad to avail themselves of the permission, and
hurried off.

"I've got an idea!" exclaimed Frank, as they scurried along before
the gale.

"Frank's got an idea," chaffed Billy. "Hold on to it, old man, for
dear life."  Frank made a playful pass at him which Billy ducked.

"I've been figuring the thing out," went on Frank, "and I've come
to the conclusion that those fellows wanted us to see them go into
that alley."

There was an exclamation of surprise from his comrades.

"Come again," said Billy. "I don't get you."

"Why should they want us to see them?" queried Bart. "They might
have known that we'd go in after them."

"Sure they did!" answered Frank. "That's just what they wanted.
They figured that they'd get us all in there in a bunch. They
guessed too that, not finding them, we'd flash a light. That would
make us a good target to their confederates who had come to the
mouth of the alley, and they thought they could mow us down with
one volley. In other words the alley was a trap."

"By ginger, I believe you're right!" exclaimed Bart "The shots
came just after the light was flashed. It was a slick trick. You
have to hand it to them."

"But that doesn't explain where the men disappeared to who went
into the alley first," remarked Billy.

"No," admitted Frank. "And it doesn't explain either where the men
who fired the shots vanished to. But there's an answer to
everything, and I'm going to try to find the answer to this. I'm
not going to drop it. Of course, I suppose the secret service men
will take the thing up, but I'm going to do a little investigating
on my own account. I have a hunch that when I take a look at that
alley by daylight, I'll tumble to something."

And while the four chums, after their narrow escape, are cudgeling
their brains to solve the mystery, it may be well for the sake of
those who have not read the preceding volumes of this series to
trace briefly their adventures before this story opens.

Frank Sheldon, a vigorous, clean-cut, young fellow, was a resident
of Camport, a thriving and prosperous town of about twenty-five
thousand people. His father had died a few years before the war
broke out, and Frank lived in a little cottage with his mother, of
whom for some years he was the sole support. She was of French
birth, and by the death of her father had recently come into
possession of a considerable estate in France. There had been some
legal complications regarding the settlement of the property, and
she had intended to go to France to look after her interests when
the outbreak of the war made this impossible.

Frank was employed in the wholesale hardware house of Moore and
Thomas, and his prospects for the future were very bright when the
United States entered the World War. Frank was above everything
else a hundred-per-cent American, and if he had consulted only his
own wishes would have enlisted at once. But his mother's
dependence upon him made him hesitate. An episode occurred,
however, that decided him, when he was forced to knock down a
burly German who had insulted the American flag. There was no
further opposition by his mother, and he joined the Thirty-seventh
Regiment, a Camport regiment with a glorious record in the Civil
War, and one which had recently seen service on the Mexican
border.

Billy Waldon, a close friend of Frank, was already a member, and
Bart Raymond, Frank's special chum and a fellow employee, joined
also. Another friend, Tom Bradford, tried to join, but was
rejected on account of his teeth. He was afterward accepted in the
draft, however, so that the four chums, to their great joy, found
themselves together in the same regiment.

There was one man in the Moore and Thomas firm who was a bitter
and malignant anti-American from the start. His name was Nick
Rabig, and he was foreman of one of the departments. He was born
in America, but his parents were German. Rabig and Frank Sheldon
were at sword's points most of the time because of the former's
bullying disposition, and after Rabig had been caught in the draft
and forced into the ranks of the old Thirty-seventh he got from
Frank the thorough thrashing which had been for a long time coming
to him.

What experiences the Army Boys went through in the training camps,
how narrowly they escaped a submarine attack on the way to Europe,
what exciting adventures they met with on their first contact with
the enemy, are described in the first volume of the series
entitled: "Army Boys in France; Or, From Training Camp to
Trenches."

After they had once reached the scene of action the adventures of
the Army Boys multiplied rapidly. Trench warfare was soon
outgrown, and open fighting in the field became the order of the
day. At one time when the American troops were advancing, the boys
became separated from their comrades and were compelled to leap
from a broken bridge into a stream, and when they attempted to
swim to the other side found themselves in the enemy's hands. For
a time a German prison camp with all its horrors loomed up before
them, but from this they were saved by a friend of theirs, Dick
Lever, who swooped down in his airplane, scattered the enemy
guards, and carried his friends back in safety to their own lines.

Frank had the good luck to hear encouraging news about his
mother's property from a French colonel whose life he had saved
under a rain of fire when the officer, Colonel Pavet, was lying
wounded on the battlefield.

Soon, from raw recruits the boys had been developed into skillful
soldiers, as is shown in the second volume of the series,
entitled: "Army Boys in the French Trenches; Or, Hand to Hand
Fights with the Enemy."

The Spring of 1918 had now arrived, and the Germans were preparing
for the last desperate drive, on the success of which their
fortunes depended. If they could once break through the Allied
lines and seize Paris or the Channel ports they would have come
near to winning the war, or at any rate, would have greatly
delayed the Allies' final victory. The Americans were brought to
the front to check the thrust of the Crown Prince's army toward
Paris, and the old Thirty-seventh found itself in the very van of
the fighting. Tom was captured, and had a series of thrilling
experiences before he was able to escape and rejoin his comrades.
Nick Rabig came out in his true colors, and his guilt as a traitor
was discovered by Tom, while hiding in the woods. How the boys
were brought again and again within arm's length of death in the
terrific fighting is told in the third volume of the series,
entitled: "Army Boys On the Firing Line; Or, Holding Back the
German Drive."

On July eighteenth, Marshal Foch struck like a thunderbolt and
hurled the foe back in a headlong retreat. Again and again the
Germans tried to rally, but the Allies were fired with the
certainty of victory and would not be denied.

Frank and his comrades were wherever the fighting was thickest,
and did their full share in driving the Germans back to the Rhine.
An event which for a time put Frank under a cloud, because it
looked as though he were involved in the robbery of a paymaster's
clerk, ended in showing that Nick Rabig was the real culprit. This
completely vindicated Frank, as will be seen in the fourth volume
of the series entitled: "Army Boys In the Big Drive; Or, Smashing
Forward to Victory."

That victory was now in sight. The German cause was doomed. One
great victory remained to be gained, the clearing of the Argonne
forest, wild, tangled, meshed with thousands of miles of barbed
wire, crowded with machine gun nests and swept with a hurricane of
shot and shell. But nothing could stop America's boys now that
their blood was up, and they did much in helping to win here the
final and greatest battle of the war. All the Army Boys, fighting
like tigers, came through unharmed, except Bart, who was wounded
and afterward wandered away from the hospital while temporarily
insane.

The armistice was signed and the Army Boys assigned to the Army of
Occupation with headquarters at Coblenz. At Luxemburg while on the
march they came across an American family who for business reasons
had lived for a time in Coblenz. How they took the head of the
family for a German spy, how they marched as conquerors into
Germany, how Frank was cheered by learning that his mother's
property was sure to come to her, how Bart was found and restored
to his right mind, how by the aid of the suspected spy who turned
out to be a patriotic American they thwarted a desperate German
plot to blow up the fortress of Ehrenbreitstein on the Rhine--all
these and other thrilling adventures are described in the fifth
volume of the series, entitled: "Army Boys Marching Into Germany;
Or, Over the Rhine With the Stars and Stripes".

Since the Army Boys had served as night patrol, they were exempt
from getting up when reveille sounded the next morning, and the
sun was some hours high when they found themselves together again
in their favorite spot in front of the great fortress of
Ehrenbreitstein, which formed the principal barracks for the
American troops in the occupied zone.

"Well, Mister Detective," said Billy, with a grin, as he slapped
Frank on the back, "have you figured out any dope about the
fellows who came so near to bumping us off last night?"

"Can't say that I have yet," laughed Frank. "Fact is, I was so
dog-tired when I hit the hay last night that I went to sleep the
minute my head touched the pillow. And so far this morning I've
been so busy packing away grub that I haven't had time to think of
anything else. But if I can get leave I'm going over to Coblenz
today and take a look at that alley."

"Here comes the corp," remarked Bart, as he saw Wilson
approaching. "I wonder whether he found out anything further about
last night's rumpus."

"Nothing at all," answered the corporal, who heard the last words.
"Everything was quiet for the rest of the night. I stationed two
of the men close to the alley with special directions to watch it,
but nothing at all happened that was out of the ordinary."

"It's hardly likely that there would," answered Frank. "They
wouldn't be likely to try the same game twice in the same night."

"Perhaps they had some special grudge against one or all of you
fellows," suggested the corporal. "Have any of you made any
special enemies in the town that you know of?"

"I don't think so," replied Frank. "How about it, boys?"

"Not guilty," laughed Billy.

"We've yanked in a few trouble makers from time to time," said Tom
thoughtfully, "but we weren't any rougher with them than we had to
be."

"I'll tell you!" broke in Bart, as a thought struck him. "It was
our bunch that discovered the plot to blow up Ehrenbreitstein and
got the tip to our people just in time. Perhaps that's made some
of these crazy Huns wild to throw the hooks into us."

"By Jove!" exclaimed Frank, "I never thought of that. I shouldn't
wonder if you were more than half right, Bart."

"It may be so," agreed Wilson meditatively. "They certainly were
sore when that plot was knocked on the head. They had sworn that
no foreign flag should ever float over the greatest fortress in
all Germany."

"They swore falsely then," cried Billy jubilantly, as he pointed
to the Stars and Stripes floating in the breeze.

Instinctively they took off their caps, as they gazed lovingly
upon Old Glory.




CHAPTER III

CAUGHT IN A STORM


"Take a good look at that flag, boys," said the corporal, with a
smile, "for it may be some time before you see it again."

"What do you mean?" asked Frank in surprise.

Corporal Wilson smiled at the perplexed and somewhat rueful faces
of the four Army Boys.

"Just what I said," he replied to Frank's query. "You fellows are
slated to go over the mountain with a bunch of others to round up
some of the guns and supplies that the Heinies have promised to
surrender. They're slow about it, and have been making all kinds
of excuses to keep from bringing them in. The general's patience
is just about exhausted, and he's going to get those guns or know
the reason why."

"Where is the place?" asked Frank.

"I don't know exactly," answered Wilson. "From the lieutenant who
told me to get the boys together for the job I only gathered that
it's a good way off. He told me to pick out men that I could rely
on, and I thought of you at once. There'll be about fifty of you
altogether. You want to get ready to start in about two hours."

He passed on to recruit the rest of the detachment, and the boys
looked at each other. Frank was thoughtful, Bart indifferent, but
Tom and Billy glum.

"Hard luck," growled Tom.

"You said a mouthful!" snorted Billy.

"Look at those boobs," mocked Bart. "I'll bet a dollar to a
doughnut that they were planning to go over to see Alice and Helen
this afternoon."

    "'Gee whiz, I'm glad I'm free,
     No wedding bells for me."

sang Frank.

"Oh, come off!" retorted Tom. "You're simply jealous."

"A perfectly good day gone to waste," grumbled the usually
cheerful Billy.

"Cheer up, you hunks of misery," gibed Bart. "The worst is yet to
come."

"I'm not specially keen for the trip myself," said Frank. "I'd
thought to go over to Coblenz this afternoon and have another look
at that place where they so nearly bumped us off last night. But I
suppose now that will have to wait."

"The alley will be there when we come back unless there's an
earthquake in the meantime," remarked Bart.

"I wish there would be," declared Tom wrathfully. "I'd like to see
the whole place wiped off the map. That is," he corrected himself,
"if I could get one person out of there before the blow up came."

"Make it two," grinned Billy. "But there's no use grizzling about
it. We'll have time anyway to write a letter to the girls telling
them all about it. Then, ho! for the mountains and the tricky
Huns! I'll be just in the humor to make it hot for them if they
don't toe the scratch."

"We'd better get a move on," counseled Frank. "The corp is a
hustler, and he'll have that squad together before we know it."

"Hello, what's this?" exclaimed Bart, as they came to a part of
the barrack grounds where they caught a glimpse of the road
beyond.

Two men were engaged in a heated conversation. One was poorly
dressed and had a decided limp, as he tried to keep up with the
other, who looked like a professional man of some kind. The former
was evidently pleading with the latter, who shook off impatiently
the hand that had been placed on his arm.

"Scrapping about something," remarked Tom carelessly.

The lame man still persisted, and suddenly his companion swung
around and aimed a blow at him with his cane. The other dodged and
the cane was lifted again, but before it could fall, Frank had
reached the man's side and wrenched the cane from his hand.

The owner turned with a glare of fury, which changed however to a
look of apprehension as his eyes fell on the American uniform.

He mumbled something that might have been an apology or an
explanation, but Frank cut him short.

"Hitting a lame man doesn't go around here," said Frank curtly.
"If you had actually hit him, I'd have done the same thing to
you."

The man was cowed and made no reply. The lame man meanwhile had
hobbled away. Frank handed back the cane, turned his back upon the
owner and rejoined his companions.

"True Prussian brutality," commented Bart. "Good work, old boy.
But now let's hurry or we'll be late."

They scattered to their quarters, and in a short time were fully
equipped for the coming journey.

When a little later they had assembled at the place the corporal
had appointed, they found there a group of their comrades selected
from the old Thirty-seventh bent on the same errand as themselves.
Lieutenant Winter was in command of the detachment, which numbered
about half a hundred.

"Mighty good name for the leader of this trip," Bart whispered
jokingly to Frank, as they stood drawn up in line awaiting the
command to start.

"It certainly is," agreed Frank, drawing his coat a little closer.
"This is about as bitter weather as I've ever stacked up against."

"Looks to me as if a snow storm were coming," murmured Billy.

"Attention!" came the sharp command. "Forward, march!"

The lines moved forward as one man, the lieutenant riding ahead on
horseback and two motor trucks loaded with supplies bringing up
the rear.

The road led at first along the bank of the river and was fairly
level. After two miles had been traversed the line of march
swerved sharply toward the right and the men began to climb.

The weather was biting cold, and a stinging-wind whipped their
cheeks and searched their clothing. But they were warmly clad and
the pace at which they marched kept them comfortable enough. Their
sturdy frames were inured to hardships, and they joked and laughed
as they went along.

Soon they had passed through the little suburban villages that
hung on the flank of Coblenz, and the way was interspersed with
farmhouses at longer and longer intervals. The country became
wilder, and as the path wound upward, they soon found themselves
in the midst of mountains, on the other side of which lay the town
for which they were bound.

The leafless branches of great trees waved creakily over their
heads as the wind whistled through them. There was no sign of
human life or habitation to, be seen. For all that appeared to the
contrary, they might have been in the depths of a primeval forest.

"The jumping off place," muttered Tom, as at the command of the
lieutenant the detachment paused for a short rest.

"The little end of nowhere, I'll tell the world," returned Billy,
gazing about him. "Gee, what a place to be lost in!"

There was only a brief time permitted for rest, as the lieutenant
was anxious to get his men over the ridge and at their destination
before the short winter afternoon came to an end. The men fell in
and the march went on.

The sky had now become a steely gray, and flakes of snow began to
fall. They came down slowly at first and then more rapidly, and
the ground was soon covered. The wind too had increased in
intensity, and the boys soon found themselves in what promised to
develop into a genuine blizzard.

The road had dwindled now to a mere mountain path, and even this
was soon obliterated by the snow that was becoming deeper every
minute.

Suddenly Bart tripped over a root and fell full-length on the
snow. He tried to rise, but could not bear his weight upon his
foot, which gave way under him. His comrades, who had laughed at
first, sprang to help him. They drew him to one side, while Wilson
came to see what the matter was.

"It's nothing," explained Bart, as he stood with an arm flung over
the shoulders of Tom and Billy, while Frank, on his knees,
vigorously rubbed and manipulated his ankle. "I'll be all right in
a minute. It was a boob stunt for me to do."

"Nothing broken?" inquired Wilson anxiously.

"No," answered Frank, looking up but keeping on with his rubbing.
"I can feel that the foot's all right. He's just strained it a
little, that's all."

"Good," said Wilson. "You fellows come on after us then as soon as
you can," and he hurried back to his place.

Two or three minutes more and Bart was able to walk, although he
limped a trifle. They picked up their rifles and hurried after
their comrades.

In the gathering dusk they did not notice that a trail diverged
from the main one that they had been traveling, and they turned
into this side trail, straining their eyes through the whirling
snow to catch a glimpse of their comrades.

They had gone on for about ten minutes, not talking in order to
save their breath, when Frank put into words the growing
uneasiness of all of them.

"Queer that we haven't caught up to them yet!" he exclaimed,
peering ahead, although he could not see more than twenty paces
through the blinding snow.

"We certainly are traveling a good deal faster than they were when
we saw them last," declared Bart.

"They must have got hold of some seven-league boots," grumbled
Tom.

"Put on a little more speed," advised Billy. "Make it snappy now,
and we're bound to catch up with them."

They quickened their pace, but without result. There were no
footprints to be seen, but that meant nothing, for the snow
covered up all tracks almost as soon as they were made.

For twenty minutes more they hurried along as well as they could
through the snow that clogged and clung to their feet, and at last
the truth forced itself upon their unwilling minds.

"No use, fellows," said Frank, as he stopped and the others
gathered around him. "There's no use kidding ourselves any longer.
We might as well own up to it that we've taken the wrong trail."

"Guess you're right, old man," said Tom disconsolately. "It simply
wouldn't be possible for us not to have caught up to them at the
rate we've been going. We're up against it for fair, and the
question is, how we're going to get out of it. Getting snowbound
in this wilderness doesn't make any hit with me."

"There's only one thing to do," said Frank decidedly, "and that is
to right about face and try to find the place where we turned
off."

"Swell chance," muttered Tom. "It's getting dark now by the
minute, and it'll be as black as pitch in a little while."

"I know it's a forlorn hope," admitted Frank, "but it's the only
thing to do just the same, and even forlorn hopes have a way of
winning out sometimes. We can't stand here and be frozen to death.
Perhaps we'll find some of the fellows sent back to look for us.
Get a hustle on now."

He set the pace, and they followed with a speed that under other
conditions they would not have thought possible.

But fast as they went, the snow and the darkness came faster, and
despite all their efforts they were not able to find where the
paths diverged. Everywhere was one bleak wilderness of snow. Soon
they had all lost the path they were following and found
themselves floundering through the woods among the tree trunks.
There was no use in going further, for in the dense darkness they
were quite as likely to be going away from their comrades as
toward them, and at last Frank called a halt.

"The storm's got us, fellows," he declared, with a forced laugh
that had little mirth in it.

"All my fault," remarked Bart gloomily. "I guess I'm a Jonah, I
picked out the wrong moment to take a tumble. Now we're in a fine
mess."

"We've been in worse," said Billy cheerily, "and pulled through
them just the same."

"That's the way to talk!" exclaimed Frank heartily, giving Billy a
slap on the back. "We'll get out of this scrape as we have out of
a lot of others. At the worst, it's only a matter of having to
wait till daylight. We're worth a dozen dead men yet. At any rate
we've got grub with us, so that there's no danger of our
starving."

"How about freezing to death?" said Tom, who was always inclined
to see the dark side of things.

"We won't do that either," replied Frank. "That is, if we keep
moving, and that's what we've got to do. It may not get us
anywhere, but at least it will keep the blood circulating. Then
too, there's the odd chance of our stumbling upon some hut or
other where we can find some kind of shelter."

"Better let me go first, then," put in Bart. "I'm good at
stumbling. In fact it's my long suit."

They all laughed and felt better.

"We don't know where we're going, but we're on the way," sang out
Billy, as they began to trudge forward.

They had plenty of rations with them, and they munched some food
as they went along. It was cold comfort, but it was comfort just
the same.

"Oh, you hot coffee!" murmured Billy, and at the picture that he
conjured up the others groaned.

The snow was now knee deep and showed no signs of letting up,
though the wind had abated somewhat in violence.

They plodded on through the heavy drifts that clutched at their
tired legs like so many nightmare hands trying to hold them back
to their destruction. They were young and hardy, but their
physical strength was sorely tested by the battle with the
elements. Their hearts were thumping as though they would burst
through their ribs, and their breath came in gasps.

Suddenly Frank's keen eyes caught sight of a dark mass that seemed
to stand out even blacker than the darkness which was everywhere
around them. He rubbed his eyes clear of the snow that clung to
the lashes and looked again. Then he gave a shout.

"We've found it, boys!" he yelled. "There's a building of some
kind just ahead of us. See it? See it?"

They looked and saw, and with a joyful shout make a break for
shelter.




CHAPTER IV

THE RUINED CASTLE


As the Army Boys drew closer, the building seemed to grow in size.
Wing after wing detached itself from the mass that seemed to cover
fully an acre of ground. There were no fences to hinder their
approach, but there were great masses of broken blocks and masonry
through which they had to wind their way before they found
themselves before a frowning tower, whose peak rose above the top
of a quadrangular group of buildings surrounding it.

"Why, it's an old castle of some kind!" exclaimed Frank, as they
paused at the foot of the tower, spent and breathless.

"I don't care what it is," replied Bart. "It's shelter of some
kind, and that's enough for me."

"Wonder if there's any one living here," remarked Billy Waldon,
his eyes sweeping the great mass for some sign of life. "Even the
bark of a dog would be welcome to-night."

"Not a light anywhere," commented Tom. "If there's anybody living
here I guess they're dead."

"There's not even a door to knock at," said Frank Sheldon, looking
into the yawning space of what had evidently been an entrance to
the tower. "I guess we'll have to go on a little exploring
expedition. Come along, fellows, and get out of the wind. Lucky
that I have my flashlight along."

They crowded in on their leader's heels, first, as a precaution,
seeing that their weapons were ready, though there did not seem to
be the faintest chance of their being required.

Frank drew his flashlight, and the streaming rays illuminated a
long passageway whose end they could not see. There were open
spaces in the roof and walls through which the snow had drifted in
spots, but there were other parts that were clear and dry, and
these were welcomed by the boys with immense relief after their
long battle with the snow.

At a turning of the corridor they came upon a large room that,
although mildewed and dilapidated and wholly bereft of furniture,
was intact as far as the walls and ceiling were concerned. But
what especially caught their eyes was a huge stone fireplace, and
at once they decided to end their explorations for the present
right there.

"Perhaps that hot coffee wasn't such a dream after all," chuckled
Billy. "We've got plenty of the stuff in our kits, and all we need
is some hot water."

"There's no end of broken branches about here," said Frank. "Let's
get a pile of them in here, and we'll have a fire started in less
than no time."

Though Tom said that the wood would probably be too wet to burn,
he turned in heartily with the others, and in a few minutes they
had a bigger pile of wood ready than probably the old room had
ever seen before. Then by careful nursing of some chips and twigs
a blaze was started that soon developed into a roaring fire,
before which the boys stood and dried out their wet clothes and
toasted themselves until they were in a glow.

The coffee problem was now a simple one, as all they had to do was
to melt snow enough to furnish the hot water, and they used the
cooking utensils that they had in their kits, for they had started
out that afternoon in full marching order. Savory odors soon
announced that the fragrant brew was ready, and they almost
scalded their throats in the eagerness to partake of it.

"Yum-yum!" murmured Tom after his second cup. "Nectar has nothing
on this."

"I'll say so," agreed Billy, with a blissful expression on his
face.

"We never knew how good it was until we thought we couldn't get
it," grinned Bart.

"Maybe this isn't a contrast to things as they were an hour ago,
eh, fellows?" laughed Frank. "Listen to the wind screaming round
this building, mad because it can't get at us."

"I wonder what the rest of the bunch are thinking about us just
now," remarked Billy.

"I suppose they're worried to death, because we didn't turn up,"
replied Frank. "They've probably got squads out hunting for us at
this minute. They've probably guessed what happened when we failed
to catch up with them."

"Well, there isn't a chance in a thousand of their striking this
place," said Tom, yawning. "In the meantime, I'm all tired out and
vote that we hit the hay."

"There isn't any hay to hit, worse luck," said Bart, looking about
him ruefully. "It's the stone floor for us to-night, all right.
But it's warm and dry, and we'll make out with our blankets. It'll
beat traveling around in the snow all night, any way."

"Let's get some more wood so that we'll have enough to last all
night," suggested Frank, and followed by the others he suited the
action to the word.

"How about some of us standing watch?" remarked Bart, when the
huge pile of branches had been heaped within easy distance of the
fire.

"Don't see any need of it," remarked Tom, rubbing his eyes. "We're
probably miles away from any living thing and there's nothing to
watch for except ghosts. There ought to be plenty of those around
in a place so old as this. But who wants to watch for ghosts? I'd
rather be asleep than awake if any of those old codgers come
perambulating around."

"Quit your kidding," replied Frank with a laugh. "But I think we
ought to stand watch, turn and turn about. There's a bare chance
that some of the detachment may come this way, though I don't
think it's likely. Then again we're really in an enemy's country,
and it wouldn't be good soldiering for all of us to go to sleep.
Besides, the fire has got to be kept up."

They felt the force of this and agreed.

"Let's see," remarked Frank, as he consulted his radio watch, "I
figure it will be about eight hours till daylight. That'll be two
hours for each of us."

"You fellows go to sleep," broke in Bart, "and I'll stand watch
all night. That's only right, for I'm the fellow who got you into
this fix."

"Nonsense!" said Frank. "That doesn't go with this bunch. We'll
share and share alike, or else there's nothing doing."

Bart still persisted, but the others overruled him and he had to
give in.

Frank drew a memorandum book from his pocket, tore out a page and
made four strips of different lengths. The one that drew the
shortest was to stand the first watch and the others were to take
their turn according to the length of their strips. Bart drew the
shortest, and Billy, Tom, and Frank followed, the latter having
the longest slip remaining in his hand.

"If you go to sleep, Bart, you'll be shot at sunrise," joked
Billy.

"I'm all right then," retorted Bart, "for I never get up that
early."

Frank, Billy, and Tom spread their blankets as near the fire as
was safe, and rolled themselves in them. The bed was hard, but
this bothered them little, and they were so tired that they were
asleep almost as soon as they stretched themselves out.

Bart, too, was more exhausted than he ever remembered being in all
his life before, and from time to time he looked enviously at the
forms of his sleeping comrades. The two hours that stretched
before him would be very long ones.

At times he would pace slowly about the room, stopping now and
then to replenish the fire. His foot still hurt him a little, and
he frequently sat down in a corner to rest himself. He found,
however, that this was dangerous, for an almost uncontrollable
drowsiness would steal over him, despite all his efforts to keep
awake. The only way he could feel sure of staying awake was to
keep on his feet.

An hour passed and half of another.

He was counting the minutes now before he would be relieved, when
suddenly, as he was passing the entrance that opened on the
corridor, he heard a sound that startled him.

He stood stock still, every trace of sleepiness gone in an instant
and all his faculties keenly on the alert. But nothing happened
and he relaxed.

"Pshaw!" he said to himself impatiently. "What's the matter with
me? Am I letting what Tom said about ghosts get on my nerves?"

Then the sound came again, and this time Bart knew that he was not
mistaken.




CHAPTER V

CONSPIRATORS


What Bart heard was the sound of human voices.

At first the thought flashed across him that they might be those
of some of his comrades, sent back by Lieutenant Winter to look
for the missing men.

But he dismissed this thought almost as soon as it was formed.
There was a peculiar quality about the tones that was not
American, a coarse guttural sound such as he had grown only too
familiar with in the streets of Coblenz. Those who were talking
were Germans.

He listened intently.

It was evident from the varying tones that there were quite a
number of men in the group. At times the conversation seemed
animated, and then again there would be a lull. Once he thought he
heard them quarreling.

What could these men be doing here in the dead of night? Was it
possible that some part of the castle was inhabited after all? Or
had they gathered together for some secret and lawless purpose?

Bart thought at first that he would wake his companions and tell
them what he had heard. On second thought, however, he concluded
that he would do a little reconnoitering on his own account. They
were so utterly tired that he hated to wake them for what after
all might prove to be not worth while.

Carefully looking to his weapons, he stole from the room and moved
in the direction of the voices.

But this was not so easy a matter as he thought. The old castle
proved to be a perfect maze of rooms, some connected and others
detached, and again and again he found himself going further away
from the sounds and having to retrace his steps. Then too he was
afraid to flash a light, and had to grope his way over the uneven
floor and amid piles of debris.

At last, however, he found himself on the right track. A faint ray
of light from a distant room gave him the clue. Moving with the
stealth of an Indian on the trail, he crept forward until at the
end of a distant corridor he found what he sought.

In a large room, lighted by a fire that blazed on the hearth and
by three or four candles, were a number of men engaged in animated
conversation. A glance at their features showed that all were
Germans. Some of the men were in civilian clothes, but others wore
old, dilapidated army uniforms.

They were a rough looking lot, and Bart saw at a glance that most
of them were armed. They were gathered about a man with a red,
bushy beard, who seemed to be the leader. He had a map spread on a
table improvised from boxes, and was pointing out places indicated
by red dots.

Bart counted the men. There were nine burly fellows, who looked
desperate and as though they could give a good account of
themselves in rough and tumble work. In one of the guns standing
against the wall Bart noted a red flag thrust in the muzzle--the
symbol of the German revolutionary element that was spreading
terror throughout the former empire.

He could hear distinctly now what the speakers said, but his
knowledge of German was limited and he could not get the full
meaning. He heard repeatedly however the words "Coblenz,"
"Liebknecht," and "Spartacide." He knew what was meant by those
baleful words. They meant the overthrow of law and order, a
program of blood and massacre. And they were discussing this
program evidently with reference to Coblenz, where the American
Army of Occupation had its headquarters.

Bart pondered what he should do. It was out of the question for
him alone to attack these conspirators. They were too many for any
single man. He must arouse his comrades at once.

With the utmost caution he tiptoed back, and finding the room, not
without some difficulty, bent over the sleepers. They were dead
with sleep and he had to shake them to get them wide awake, but
the news he whispered to them had them on edge and ready for
action in an instant.

They crowded together for a whispered conference.

"What would we better do?" asked Billy.

"There's just one thing to do," said Frank, "and that is to nab
the whole bunch. That is," he went on, "if we find that they're
really hatching mischief, as Bart thinks. I've picked up enough
German in the last few months to be able to understand what
they're talking about, and on a pinch I could even talk with them
after we've got them under our guns."

"But are you sure we have any right to arrest them?" asked Bart, a
little doubtfully.

"Sure we have," answered Frank promptly. "You said they were
armed, didn't you?"

"Yes," replied Bart.

"That's all the excuse we need then to nip this thing in the bud,"
Frank answered. "It's against regulations for the Germans to carry
arms in the zone occupied by the American army, and any one who
does is liable to arrest on sight. See that your guns are all
right, fellows, and come along. I have a hunch that we're going to
give these plotters a surprise party. But we'll listen first and
make sure before we pinch them."

Bart went in advance to show the way, and his comrades crept after
him, drifting along like so many ghosts.

The conference was still in progress, but it had somewhat changed
its character. When Bart had been listening, it had been a debate
in which all were taking more or less part. Now the man with the
red beard was making a speech. He had taken the red flag from the
gun muzzle and waved it from time to time to punctuate his
remarks. He had worked himself up into a passion as he progressed.
His eyes were bulging, his face inflamed, as he poured out a
torrent of words that evidently carried away his hearers, to judge
from their rapt attention and the frequent ejaculations that burst
from them.

The Army Boys listened for several minutes, and then at a sign
from Frank drew back a little distance, while he spoke to them in
whispers.

"It's what I thought," he murmured. "That fellow is an agitator
from Berlin who has come to stir up trouble in the Coblenz
district. He's urging these men to start an uprising that will
take the American troops by surprise and wipe them out. From
something he said I have an idea that he was concerned in the plot
to blow up Ehrenbreitstein. He's as dangerous as a rattlesnake,
and we've got to get him.

"Now," he went on, "just back me up when I give the word. They're
nine to our four, but we have the advantage of surprise. Follow my
lead and we'll bag them all right."




CHAPTER VI

THE BAFFLED PLOTTERS


When the Army Boys got back to the room the orator was winding up
his speech. He finished with an eloquent peroration, and his
hearers broke into applause as the last word left his lips.

Frank leaped into the room with his rifle leveled directly at the
leader.

"Hands up!" he shouted.

At the same instant, the rest of the Army Boys followed their
leader, their rifles sweeping the room.

The effect of the sudden entrance of the Army Boys was electric.

With a roar of rage and chagrin, the conspirators made as though
they would rush on the intruders. But the wicked looking muzzles
of the army rifles and the look of determination in the faces of
the boys who held them produced a change.

Slowly the hands went up until all were raised above their heads.

"Hold them there now," commanded Frank. "The first one who moves
is a dead man."

Most of them could not understand the words, but as they looked
into Frank's eyes they had not the slightest doubt of his meaning,
and they stood like so many statues, only their eyes and the
working of their features betraying the impotent anger that
possessed them.

"Now, Tom," said Frank, without removing his eyes from those of
the German leader, "go over these men and take whatever weapons
they may have, while the rest of you keep the bunch covered."

Tom laid aside his rifle and did the work with promptness and
thoroughness, and his search was rewarded by a considerable
collection of knives and pistols. To these he added the rifles
that had been leaning against the wall, and removed the lot from
the room.

"They haven't anything left more dangerous than a toothpick," he
reported to Frank, with a grin, as he picked up his rifle and
resumed his place.

"Fine and dandy," remarked Frank.

"Now," he went on, addressing the prisoners, "back up to that wall
and sit down on the floor. Quick now! _Sitzen Sie sich.
Verstehen Sie?"_

They understood, and showed that they did by obeying, though if
looks could kill Frank would have been blasted by the venomous
glance that the German leader shot at him.

Only then did Frank permit himself to relax. He lowered his rifle
with a sense of relief.

"We've got them corralled now," he remarked to his comrades. "Let
your rifles down, boys, but keep your eyes on them. If any one of
them tries to make a break, we can pot him before he gets to his
feet."

"Well, now that we've got them what are we going to do with them?"
asked Billy.

"Sort of white elephant on our hands it seems to me," said Tom, in
some perplexity.

"No more sleep for any of us to-night, I guess," observed Bart.

"Oh, I don't know," said Frank. "Two of us will be enough to guard
these fellows at a time, while the others get a few winks. I think
I'll question the fellow who seems to be running this shooting
match and see if I can get anything out of him."

He motioned to the leader to get to his feet and come forward,
which the latter did with a thunderous frown on his face.

Frank had a faint hope that the man would be able to speak
English, in which case his task would be comparatively easy. But
when he asked the captive in German whether he could speak
English, the latter replied with a surly negative.

So Frank was compelled to muster his limited vocabulary and pick
out enough German to make himself understood. In that language,
then, the questioning proceeded.

"What were you men doing here?" asked Frank.

"By what authority do you ask me?" the prisoner responded. "Since
when has it been a crime for Germans to meet together on German
soil?"

"That depends on the purpose of the meeting," answered Frank. "You
may be on German soil, but just now you are under American laws,
and they don't allow such meetings unless permission is received
in advance. Besides, Germans are forbidden to have arms. How about
those weapons we've just taken away from you?"

"If there are any laws like that they ought to be broken," replied
the prisoner impudently.

"Don't get gay with me now," said Frank, with an ominous glitter
in his eyes. "We taught your armies a lesson not long ago, and
you'll find that we can teach you civilians just as easily."

"Our armies were not beaten," the man answered with a sudden flare
of rage. "They could have fought for years if it had not been for
the hunger at home."

"They gave a pretty good imitation of beaten armies then," said
Frank sarcastically, "and I had an idea that the Americans had
something to do with the beating. But that's neither here nor
there. What were you planning to do at Coblenz?"

"Nothing," growled the prisoner.

"That doesn't go with me," replied Frank. "I happened to hear some
of that speech of yours and Coblenz was sprinkled through it
rather thickly. Suppose you hand over to me that map with the red
dots marked on it."

"I have no map," the man replied, a look of apprehension coming
into his eyes.

"Lying again, are you?" said Frank. "Bart, cover this fellow with
your rifle while Billy goes through his pockets."

The prisoner's fist clenched, but a prod of Bart's rifle made him
think better of it, and Billy drew from one of the inside pockets
of the man's coat the identical map over which the group had been
poring when Bart first came upon the scene.

"That'll do," said Frank. "Go back to the wall and sit down. Your
case will be attended to by the American authorities at Coblenz."

The German, with a muttered imprecation, did as he was told, and
while Bart kept his eye on the group of prisoners, Frank and the
other Army Boys looked over the map.

They had been so long in Coblenz that they knew the town from end
to end, and could readily identify the places that on the map were
splashed with red. They included all the places occupied as
headquarters by staffs of the various brigades and divisions of
the American Army, as well as the American hospital and other
buildings devoted to army uses.

"What do the red marks mean, do you think?" asked Billy, with
lively curiosity.

"Blood or bombs or something of that kind, I suppose," replied
Frank. "Taking this with what I gathered from the fellow's speech,
I think it marks places that are to be blown up. It looks like a
general uprising against American rule. I think that Army
headquarters will find this little sheet of paper an interesting
thing to study. And it wouldn't surprise me very much if our
genial friend over there should find himself before long standing
before a firing squad."

"What is this place here?" asked Tom, putting his finger on one of
the red spots.

"I don't know of any government building there," commented Billy.
Frank took another look.

"Why, fellows," he said with quickening interest, "that's where
the alley is that we were so nearly trapped in the other night.
Don't you recognize it?"

"Sure enough," agreed Billy. "But what is there that they would
want to blow up?"

"Maybe some of these red spots are meant to indicate meeting
places of the conspirators," suggested Frank. "See, there's a
little red cross added here that you don't find in connection with
the army and government buildings. But it's queer that that alley
should turn up again. I wish I knew what it meant."

"Well, we'll have to let the Secret Service ferret that out," said
Billy. "They have fellows there to whom this will be as clear as
crystal after they've studied it a little. In the meantime we've
got a big enough job on our hands to take care of these prisoners.
What are we going to do with them?"

"We've got time to think that over between now and daylight,"
answered Frank. "For the present we'll make them lie down flat and
far enough apart so that they can't talk with each other. Then you
and I will stand the first watch and Bart and Tom the next. As
soon as daylight comes we must be on the move."

The plan was carried out, although Bart and Tom declared that they
had lost all desire for sleep and would keep awake with the
others. Frank, however, wanted to have them in good shape when
morning came, and the plan was carried out. As a matter of fact,
Bart and Tom were fast asleep in five minutes, and Frank and Billy
yielded as readily when their turn came.

With the first streak of dawn, the boys were on their feet.

"Doped it out yet?" Bart asked of Frank.

"Pretty well," his chum answered. "I've figured out that we'd do
better to try to find our detachment than to go back with these
fellows to Coblenz. In the first place, it must be nearer, and
then, too, we have the chance of meeting some of the detachment
who have probably been sent out to look for us. The sun will give
us the general direction and we'll probably hit the camp before
long."

"Perhaps some of the prisoners could give us the direction,"
suggested Bart.

"I suppose most any of them could," answered Frank. "Some of them,
no doubt, are natives of this section, though that big red beard
comes from Berlin. But do you think I'd trust any of them? Not on
your life! They'd only lead us into a trap."

"I guess you're right," agreed Bart.

"How about breakfast for these Huns?" asked Tom.

"We'll have to rustle some grub for them, of course," answered
Frank. "Haven't they got any food with them?"

"A few hunks of bread and cheese," answered Tom, "but not nearly
enough to go around. We'll have to give them some of our rations,
I suppose, though we made quite a hole in them last night and
there isn't very much left."

"Well, we'll divide up with them as long as we have any," said
Frank, "though I know mighty well they wouldn't do it with us if
the case were reversed."

"You bet they wouldn't," answered Tom, "I've been a prisoner in
their hands, and I know what I'm talking about."

They made coffee and distributed food, giving to their prisoners
as much as they ate themselves. Then Frank lined up the prisoners
and directed them to go ahead in the general direction he pointed
out, warning them sternly that he would not hesitate to shoot at
the least sign of resistance or any attempt to escape.

The storm had ceased, although a bitter wind was still blowing and
heaping the snow in drifts. Still this had some advantages, for
while it piled the snow deep in places it swept other spots almost
clean and they made fairly rapid progress. The prisoners marched
sulkily but steadily, with a wholesome respect for the rifles
behind them and the men who held them.

They had been marching for perhaps an hour through the bleak
forest, when Bart gave a sudden exclamation.

"See those black dots on the snow?" he said, pointing ahead and a
little to the right. "They're moving and they're coming this way!
I'll bet it's some of our fellows sent out to find us."

Frank looked hard and long, and as he looked his face grew grave.
He did not seem to share his comrade's jubilation.

"Guess again, Bart," he said.

"Why?" asked Bart.

"Because," replied Frank, "those fellows are wearing German
uniforms. They're probably a lot of disbanded soldiers on their
way home. I rather think, boys, that we're in for a fight."




CHAPTER VII

A CLOSE CALL


There was a stir among the Army Boys as they crowded around their
leader.

"Are you sure, Frank?" asked Billy.

"Positive," answered Frank. "I can tell by their uniform and by
their walk. I could even make out that some of them were wearing
the uniform of the Jaeger regiments. They fought against us in the
Argonne, and you'll remember that they're pretty tough birds. If
it comes to a scrap we'll have our work cut out for us."

"But why should there be any scrap?" questioned Tom. "Germans are
arrested every day in Coblenz and no one tries to rescue them."

"That's different," replied Frank. "The people know there that
we've got powerful forces right at hand that could crush any
attempt at rescue. But that doesn't count much out in the
wilderness. If these fellows have an officer with them, he'll
probably have sense enough to know that it doesn't pay to buck up
against the United States army. But if they're just traveling
along without organization, they feel so sore at us that they may
be willing to take a chance and mix in."

"How many do you make them out to be?" asked Billy.

"About fifteen, I should judge," was the answer.

"What are you going to do?" asked Bart.

"Keep right ahead in the direction we are going. The boldest way
is usually the best. If they saw us do any pussyfooting, they'd
think we were scared, and they'd come after us anyway."

 The two parties were not traveling in such a line that they would
necessarily meet each other. Under ordinary conditions they would
have passed at a distance of perhaps six hundred feet. But as the
other party approached, Frank could see that one of their number
was observing him and his comrades through a pair of field
glasses. There was a hurried consultation, and then the newcomers
swerved from their line of march and came directly toward the Army
Boys.

"Just what I expected," muttered Frank, as his eyes darted from
place to place over the snowy landscape to find a favorable
position from a military point of view.

A hundred feet away was a slight rise of ground from which grew a
clump of gigantic oak trees. They were so close together that
their roots seemed to intermingle. On the near side of the little
hill the vagaries of the wind had swept the snow into a sort of
cave formation, leaving a space in the center hollowed out with
great banks of snow on both sides.

Straight into this cave-like space Frank marched his group of
prisoners who were walking with their hands upraised, but resting
on their heads so as to ease their arms.

"You stand here, Billy, with your gun leveled, and if any one of
these fellows makes a break drop him in his tracks," Frank
directed, "You, Bart and Tom, come with me, and we'll go ahead and
have a parley with this gang, and see what their intentions are."

The newcomers had now approached within a distance of a hundred
yards. The boys looked in vain for any one wearing an officer's
uniform, but there was no one who seemed to be in command. The
crowd advanced in straggling formation, some of their faces
exhibiting merely curiosity, while those of others were ugly and
determined. There were perhaps half a dozen rifles among the lot,
but the boys could see army revolvers at the belts of half a dozen
more. A few had nothing but heavy sticks. The clothing of all was
worn and travel stained, but all were of military cut and pattern,
indicating that the wearers had belonged to the German army. The
Army Boys went boldly toward them, and their confident bearing
seemed to impress the Germans, who hesitated in their advance and
crowded close together as though in consultation.

The boys kept going until they were within thirty feet, and then
Frank handed his rifle to Billy and went forward with empty hands
to show that his intentions were peaceable.

"We're American soldiers, as you can see by our uniforms," he said
in a clear voice, in which there was no trace of wavering. "We are
on our way to camp. We saw you turn from your line of march and
come our way as though you wanted to speak to us. What do you
want?"

Frank had spoken in German and they all understood him, but there
was no answer ready, although the men's eyes glowered as they
rested on his uniform and there were muttered exclamations.

"Is there any one of you that speaks English?" Frank asked, after
waiting a moment.

Again a whispered consultation, and one of their number was pushed
forward by the others.

"Do you speak English?" Frank asked.

"Yes," replied the man roughly. "I lived for five years in your
accursed America."

The tone and words were offensively insolent, but Frank took no
notice of them.

"Then perhaps you can tell me what you and your comrades want with
us," he said.

"We want those prisoners you have with you," the man replied.

"What prisoners?" parried Frank.

"Don't try to fool us," the man answered angrily. "We saw those
men walking with their hands on their heads, and we know they are
Germans. We want them, and we're going to have them."

"How are you going to get them?" Frank asked quietly.

"How are we going to get them?" sneered the man. "Why, by taking
them, if we have to. There are only four of you, as we saw through
our glasses, and we're four to one. You wouldn't be fools enough
to fight against such odds. If you give them up peaceably we won't
hurt you. But if you don't, we'll wipe you out."

"Now listen," said Frank sternly. "We've arrested these men
because they were plotting against the United States. We've set
out to take them into camp, and we're going to do it. This
district is under American rule and America has a long arm. You
may wipe us out, but the American Government will reach out that
arm and get you, no matter where you try to hide. I warn you to go
on your way and let us pass."

"It's fight then, is it?" snarled the German.

He turned to his companions.

"Comrades!" he roared.

But he got no further.

Like lightning, Frank's left hand shot out and gripped the man by
the collar. With his right, he yanked his automatic pistol from
his belt and clapped it against the man's temple.

"One move and I'll blow your brains out," he snapped.

The man, after his first instinct of revolt, stood like a statue.
That cold muzzle against his head was a compelling argument.

There was a wild commotion among the Germans, and rifles were
raised, but as Frank had whirled his prisoner between him and them
they did not dare to fire, but stood raging but irresolute.

Walking backward with his prisoner, the pistol still pressed to
his head, Frank rejoined Bart and Tom, whose rifles were leveled
at the crowd. Step by step the boys retreated, until they stood
with Billy in the shelter of the oaks. Frank then delivered his
prisoner to Billy, who made him lie down in the snow cave with the
others.

"Good work, old man!" said Tom admiringly, as he clapped Frank on
the shoulder.

"I'll tell the world so," agreed Bart enthusiastically.

"Gee, but my heart was in my mouth while I watched you," said
Billy.

"Have any trouble with the prisoners while I was gone?" asked
Frank.

"Not much," grinned Billy. "Redbeard tried to get up, but I handed
him a clip on the jaw and he sat down again."

"Drop!" shouted Bart suddenly. "Those fellows are getting ready to
fire."

They threw themselves flat on the snow, and a moment later some
bullets zipped over them.

"Looks as though they meant business," muttered Frank.

"Lucky that they haven't all got rifles," remarked Billy.

"Seems like the old Argonne days come again, only on a smaller
scale," remarked Tom. "Shall we let them have a taste of lead,
Frank? My finger's fairly itching to pull the trigger."

"Hold in a while, Tom," counseled Frank. "They have done that to
vent their spite. We're safe enough behind these oaks, and we
haven't any too much ammunition. If they show any signs of making
a rush, we'll let them have a volley."

"That's just what they're going to do," remarked Bart. "They know
they're four to one and they're going to take a chance."

"Five to one, really," answered Frank, "for Billy will have his
hands full in guarding the prisoners."

Another volley came at that minute, and several bullets embedded
themselves in the oaks. At the same moment, the Germans rushed
forward a few yards, taking shelter behind what trees they could
or throwing themselves behind hillocks of snow.

"They're in earnest," remarked Tom.

"All right," said Frank, and his fingers tightened on his rifle.
"Let them rush us. They'll get all that's coming to them."




CHAPTER VIII

JUST IN TIME


"Those fellows are old campaigners," commented Bart. "You can tell
that by the tactics they're using. It's the old system they tried
at the Marne and in the Argonne, making a rush for a few yards,
throwing themselves flat, and then repeating the process until
they got near enough to rush us."

"A pretty good system, too," commented Tom, "but it didn't win
then and it isn't going to win now. Just watch me wing one or two
of these Huns and put a crimp into their tactics."

His chance came even while he was speaking, for one of the Germans
thrust his rifle out from behind a tree and fired. At the same
instant, Tom's rifle cracked, and the bullet ploughed its way
through the man's right shoulder. He fell with a groan and rolled
out from behind his shelter on to the snow. He was an easy mark as
he lay there, but Tom refrained from firing again. The man was out
of the fight and as good as dead as far as any further offensive
was concerned. Besides, it was no part of the American idea of war
to kill a wounded foe, although it was a matter of record that it
had frequently been done by the Germans.

"Good shooting, old man," commented Frank. "You haven't got out of
the way of potting them."

"One less to cause us trouble," remarked Billy. "Gee, if I didn't
have these prisoners to watch! I'm getting cross-eyed, trying to
keep one eye on them and the other on these fellows that are
trying to rush us."

"Keep both eyes on the prisoners," directed Frank, "especially on
that red-beard person. He's bad medicine. We'll handle these
fellows. Ah, you will, will you?"

The last exclamation was prompted by one of the Germans who tried
at that moment to glide from a small tree behind which he was
sheltered to a larger one that seemed to promise better
protection. He moved swiftly, but Frank's bullet was swifter, and
the man went down with a bullet in his thigh.

"Talk about sniping," grinned Bart. "Those fellows will wake up
after a while to the fact that they've tackled a hornet's nest.
Even a thick German head can take in an idea sometimes."

"Especially if it's pushed in by a bullet," added Tom.

Just then a volley came from the besiegers, and a rain of bullets
buried themselves in the trees behind which the boys were
crouching.

Bart gave a sharp exclamation.

"Are you hurt, Bart?" asked Frank anxiously.

"Not much, I guess," replied Bart, putting his hand to his
shoulder where the cloth had been torn away. "Just ridged the
flesh. It doesn't amount to anything."

There was a little blood issuing from the shoulder, but Frank was
relieved on examination to find that the bullet had just grazed
the flesh, breaking the skin but doing no serious damage. He put a
little ointment and lint on it and held the bandage firm with a
bit of adhesive plaster, though Bart declared that it was not
worth bothering about.

"Here they come!" cried Tom.

The besiegers had gathered themselves for a rush, and now they
came in a body toward the trees, firing as they ran.

The rifles of the Army Boys spoke, and two of their assailants
went down. The rest faltered for a moment, and in that moment
another of their number fell.

This seemed to dash the spirit of the attackers. They had
evidently counted upon the retreat of the defenders when they saw
three times their number bearing down upon them. They faltered,
then broke and ran, not this time to the nearest shelters, but
straight back to the place from which they had first started. The
accurate shooting had given them a wholesome respect for their
opponents, and their only thought was to get out of the range of
those deadly rifles.

The boys might have shot more of them as they ran, but that was
not in Frank's plan. All he wanted was to get them out of his path
so that he could get his prisoners to camp, and he wanted to do it
with as little bloodshed as possible.

"Guess they've got enough of our game," remarked Tom, as he
reloaded his rifle.

"Shouldn't wonder," replied Bart. "We called their bluff. They
thought we'd have a case of nerves when we saw them come rushing
towards us. But we've seen those fellows' backs too often to be
afraid of their faces."

The Germans continued their retreat until they had gotten to a
reasonably safe distance, and then they gathered together and
seemed to be consulting as to their next move.

Frank watched them keenly. Suddenly he saw a commotion in their
ranks, and looking in the direction to which their faces had
turned, he saw a body of men larger than the first coming over the
snow.

"Another bunch of disbanded soldiers," he muttered anxiously, as
he saw that the newcomers were Germans and had now quickened their
steps in answer to the shouts and gestures of their first
assailants. "Now we're up against it for fair."

"We didn't figure on tackling the whole German army," growled Tom.

"Our ammunition is getting low, too," remarked Bart, ruefully, as
he looked at his cartridge belt. "We'll have to make every shot
tell from now on."

"If the bullets give out, we'll light into them with our bayonets
and gun butts," gritted Frank between his teeth. "We've started to
get these prisoners to camp, and we'll get them there or die
trying."

"I know what the Germans would do if they were in our place,"
remarked Tom. "They'd stand the prisoners in front of them, so
that the other fellows would have to kill their own comrades
before they could get at them."

"I know they would," agreed Frank. "They did that in Belgium even
with women and little children. But we're human beings, and we
don't do that sort of thing."

By this time the two bodies of men had joined, and Frank estimated
that altogether they numbered more than forty.

"Ten to one," he remarked when he had finished counting, "and most
of those new arrivals have guns."

"We're in for another rush," said Bart, "and this time they won't
cave in as easily as they did before. The Germans are plucky
enough when they fight in numbers."

The Army Boys looked carefully to their rifles and loosened their
knives in their sheaths. Then by a common impulse they shook hands
all around. Nothing was said, but each knew what was in the hearts
of the others. They felt that they were in for a fight to the
death, and with the heavy odds against them it looked as though
none of them would come out alive.

But the expected rush did not come.

"Can't be that they've given it up, do you think?" asked Tom,
after five minutes had passed.

"Nothing like that," replied Frank. "They're holding a big pow-wow
about something."

As he spoke, a figure detached itself from the crowd and came
towards them, waving a white handkerchief attached to a stick.

"The white flag!" exclaimed Frank. "They're going to invite us to
surrender."

"You know what Whittlesey told them in the Argonne when they tried
the same thing on the lost battalion," remarked Bart.

"We'll tell them the same thing, only a little more politely,"
Frank assured him with a grin.

The man approached until he was about fifty feet distant, and then
stood there, waving the flag and by gestures inviting the
defenders to come out and meet him.

"You're elected, Frank," laughed Billy. "Go out and let Heinie
spiel his little spiel."

Frank laid aside his rifle and stepped from behind his tree. He
walked directly toward the messenger, who lowered the makeshift
flag and stood waiting.

"What is it that you want?" Frank asked in German, when he had
come within speaking distance.

"We want you to surrender," replied the man in excellent English.

"And if we don't?" continued Frank, in his native tongue.

"Then you'll be committing suicide," answered the other promptly.

"I'm not so sure of that," replied Frank. "I suppose you'd have
said that before you made your last rush. But as you see, we're
not dead yet."

"That was different," replied the messenger. "You can see now that
we have double the number we had before and more than double the
guns. You can't possibly hold out against us."

"Maybe not," replied Frank, "but at any rate we're going to try.
If you want us, you'll have to come and take us, and even then
you'll only get our dead bodies, for we won't be taken alive."

He spoke with a decision that seemed to disconcert the man who
stood for a moment irresolute.

"Is that your last word?" he asked.

"I have only one word," replied Frank. "You heard me. Go back and
tell your comrades to come on as soon as they like. They'll find
us ready for them. But I warn you now as I warned you before that
our Government will get you--every last one of you. You may kill
us, but you'll swing for it."

He turned to go back to his friends, but the messenger still stood
there.

"Well," said Frank, turning around, "why don't you go? Got
anything more to say?"

"Only this," returned the messenger. "My comrades will not insist
on your surrender. But we must have the prisoners. If you give
them up, you may go where you will."

"So you had that little joker in reserve, did you?" asked Frank
grimly. "Well, my answer is just the same. We've got those
prisoners, and we're going to keep them. We started to take them
into camp, and we're going to take them there. If you get them at
all, you'll get them after we're dead."

There was no mistaking the determination in his tones, and there
was a look of unwilling admiration in the eyes of the messenger as
he turned to depart.

"You are foolish," he said, "but you have had your chance. You and
your companions are doomed."

"That may be," replied Frank, "but if we are, we'll take a lot of
you along with us."

They separated and returned to their respective camps.

"Get ready now, boys, for the fight of your lives," Frank
admonished his comrades, after he had told them of what had passed
between him and the flag bearer.

"Let them come," said Bart. "We're good for a lot of them if our
bullets hold out."

"And when they're gone, we've got our bayonets," put in Tom.

"And our knives may do some damage," added Billy, as his hand
rested on the haft of his.

With every faculty alert and their eyes fixed upon their enemies,
the Army Boys waited for the expected rush.

"What are they waiting for?" muttered Tom peevishly. "Are they
getting cold feet? Or are they waiting for another gang of hoboes
to join them before they care to tackle us?"

"It isn't that," Frank answered. "They may be planning new
tactics. Their others didn't work very well."

"I believe they're going away," cried Billy, as he saw the crowd
dispersing.

"Guess again," returned Frank. "They're doing what I've been
afraid all along they'd try to do. They're spreading out so as to
surround us on all sides. They didn't have men enough to do that
at first, but they've got them now."

A few minutes more and they saw that Frank was right. The men were
describing a wide circle, with the evident intention of attacking
the Army Boys from all sides at once.

"That means that they'll drive us out into the open," said Frank.
"We can't be on both sides of a tree at once. Half of them at
least can take pot shots at us without our having any shelter."

"It's good dope from their point of view," remarked Tom. "We'd
better start in to discourage it right away. They think they're
out of range, but I'm going to try to prove to them that they're
mistaken."

His eye ran along his rifle barrel, and after taking unusually
careful aim he fired. One of the Germans threw up his hands and
fell.

"A long shot, but I got him," remarked Tom with satisfaction.

"Some shot," said Bart approvingly.

The immediate result was a widening of the circle as the others
tried to get back further out of range. But the circle kept
forming just the same, and in a quarter of an hour it was
completed.

 Then it began contracting, the foe taking advantage of every hill
and every tree to get nearer. Occasionally they would send over
some scattering shots, but in the main they held their fire until
they should get into closer quarters.

The Army Boys in the meantime had been working feverishly. The
trees were no longer to be relied on, with enemies at the back as
well as at the front. So they dug furiously into the snow, until
they had heaped it high enough all around them to form a circular
trench.

When they had finished, the top of the trench was on a level with
their eyes, so that their bodies were sheltered. But they had to
lift their heads above it as often as they sighted and fired their
rifles, and they risked getting a bullet every time they did it.

By now the enemy was creeping closer, and there was a constant
zipping of bullets around and over their heads. The boys
themselves were forced to husband their fire, because of their
scarcity of ammunition, and they wasted no bullets in merely
returning the enemy's fire. They watched their opportunities, and
wherever an arm or a head showed itself, it became a target for
their rifles. Sometimes they missed, but oftener they found their
mark, and they knew that they had put at least five of their
enemies out of the fighting. But the odds were still enormous, and
with every moment the Germans were drawing closer. Soon they would
be near enough for a concerted rush from all sides at once.

"It's coming soon now, fellows," Frank warned his comrades, "and
when it comes we want to jump out to meet it. We don't want to be
caught in this trench like rats in a trap. When I give the word,
let them have all you've got in your guns, and then we'll lay into
them with our knives and bayonets."

Several minutes passed and the enemy's fire died down. Soon it
ceased entirely and an ominous silence replaced the singing of the
bullets.

"Have they run out of ammunition, do you think?" Bart asked of
Frank.

"No such luck," was the answer. "They're getting ready for a rush.
On your toes now, and listen for the word."

One, two, three minutes passed. And then came the rush.

But it was not the rush that the boys had looked for!

Out from the trees with a wild cheer came tearing a squad of the
old Thirty-seventh, with Wilson at their head, and fell like an
avalanche on the foe!

The Germans were taken completely by surprise. In their
concentration on their expected prey they had failed to note the
foe approaching from the rear. There were a few scattered shots,
and then the Germans scattered and ran like so many hares in all
directions.




CHAPTER IX

THE COLONEL'S WARNING


The Army Boys for the first instant were almost paralyzed with
surprise. In their hearts they had bidden good-bye to the world,
for they knew how slight their chances were against the odds that
menaced them.

Frank was the first to grasp the situation, and he jumped from the
trench with a wild hurrah.

"It's the old Thirty-seventh!" he yelled. "Our own boys! Come
along, fellows!"

With a whoop Bart and Tom joined him, Billy remaining to guard his
prisoners, and they plunged at once into the task of hunting down
the fugitives. A few escaped through the wood, but the great
majority of them were rounded up and placed in charge of Billy and
several aids. Aid was given to the wounded, and litters were made
for them which the prisoners were compelled to carry. There were
two killed, and these were buried where they lay.

It was only after these necessary things had been attended to that
the boys were able to get their breath and find time for
explanations with Wilson, who was delighted beyond measure to find
that apart from the trifling ridge in Bart's shoulder they were
all safe and sound.

He listened with the utmost interest and attention while they
unfolded the story of their adventures.

"It is a mighty fine piece of work you boys have done," he
remarked, after he had fully grasped the situation, "They'll be
glad at headquarters to have these conspirators under their thumb,
for they've been hearing all sorts of queer things about ructions
that are being planned in the occupied zone. So Raymond's stumble
may prove to have been a good thing after all."

"Perhaps it was," admitted Bart with a grin, "though I've been
calling myself all sorts of a boob ever since the thing happened."

"It sure has kept things from being monotonous," chuckled Billy.
"I've had a lot of things happen to me in my young life, but I
can't just now recall anything much more exciting than has taken
place since we lost you last night in the snow."

"The lieutenant was all wrought up about it," said the corporal.
"He had searching parties out for you all last night. Right after
breakfast this morning he routed us out again and told us we'd
hear from him if we came back without you."

"Well, you've got us, all right, and a nice little bunch of
prisoners in addition to prove that we haven't been loafing on the
job," laughed Frank. "But how did you come to find us?"

"It was the sound of shooting that brought us here on the double
quick," replied Wilson. "We took just one look at that circle
creeping up on you and we tumbled to the situation at once."

"You came just in the nick of time," said Bart soberly. "If you'd
been five minutes later you wouldn't have found much except our
dead bodies."

"And the old Thirty-seventh would have lost four of its best men,"
replied the corporal warmly. "But we'd better get a move on now
and hustle back to camp."

He lined up his men, and after appointing guards for the disarmed
and sullen prisoners, took up the march.

A little over an hour later the band trooped into the village
where Lieutenant Winter's detachment was stationed. News of their
coming had been carried on ahead, and they received a royal
welcome from the men, who crowded about them and grasped their
hands and pounded their backs as they made their way to
headquarters.

There the reception was more than cordial, and there was heartfelt
relief in the clean cut face of the lieutenant as he had the Army
Boys tell their story.

"Fine work," he commented, when they had finished. "You men are a
credit to the regiment and the army. I'll see that this is brought
to the notice of the general in command. You can go now, that is,
all but Sheldon. I'll need one of you here to check up on the
stories of the prisoners."

The others saluted and retired, and while the prisoners were sent
for the lieutenant looked over the map with great interest, asking
Frank many questions about the speech he had heard in connection
with it.

The man with the red beard simply admitted that his name was
Spatler, and then shut up like an oyster. No persuasion or threats
could bring anything out of him, and he was finally sent back to
the guardhouse to be eventually dealt with by the authorities at
Coblenz. The mark of Billy's punch was still evident in his
swollen jaw, and he shot a baleful glance at Frank as he passed by
him on the way out.

Other prisoners were questioned without result, until the German
was reached whom Frank had arrested at the point of his pistol.
All his insolence and braggadocio had vanished. He was evidently a
poltroon at heart, for he showed every evidence of being willing
to betray his comrades and tell all that he knew on condition that
his own lot would be made easier.

"This is getting interesting," smiled the lieutenant as he saw
that the man was beginning to weaken. "I guess I'll excuse you
now, Sheldon, for he'll probably talk more freely with me alone.
And as he talks English I shan't need an interpreter."

Frank saluted and went out, glad to rejoin his comrades, whom he
found regaling themselves with hot coffee and steaming "chow"
which the company cook had put before them, a pleasure in which
Frank himself promptly took part, while their comrades crowded
around them eager to hear every detail of their experiences of the
night before.

They had scarcely finished before Frank was summoned to
headquarters by a messenger. He went, expecting that something had
come up in connection with the prisoners, but was agreeably
surprised to find his old friend, Colonel Pavet, waiting for him.

The meeting was especially cordial on both sides. Colonel Pavet
had not forgotten how Frank had brought him in wounded from the
battlefield under a hail of enemy fire, and Frank on his part had
a profound gratitude to the colonel for his efforts to secure for
Mrs. Sheldon her rights in her father's property.

"So you are still at it," smiled the colonel, after greetings had
been exchanged.

"What do you mean?" asked Frank.

"Modest as usual," said the colonel. "I've been hearing all about
the little war you've been carrying on on your own account. It was
a gallant piece of work, and I congratulate you."

"Oh, that was nothing," replied Frank. "It was a job that came our
way and we had to do it. But how comes it that I see you in this
out of the way place?" he continued, in order to change the
conversation.

"I have been to Berlin on a military commission for the Allies,"
replied the colonel, "and I am now on my way to Coblenz, from
which city I will go to our own bridgehead at Mayence."

"So you got to Berlin, did you?" asked Frank with interest. "It's
the place I've been wanting to get to ever since I've been in the
war. But I wanted to go in with a conquering army with bugles
blowing and drums beating and flags flying and plant the flags of
the Allies on the Kaiser's palace."

"I have shared that ambition," replied the colonel, "and there's
nothing in the world that could have kept us from doing it, if the
Germans hadn't signed the armistice just when they did. But, for
that matter, we may have to do it yet."

"Do you think so?" asked Frank with quickened interest.

"I shouldn't be surprised," was the reply. "Things are in a
terrible condition there. The Soldiers' and Workmen's Councils are
trying to take possession of the Government. There were street
riots every day that I was there. The police station was captured
by the rioters and scores of detectives and policemen were
murdered by the mob. The buildings are riddled with bullets and
cannon balls. Berlin is getting some of the punishment that is due
for her guilt in starting the war."

"I suppose that fellow Liebknecht is at the head of all this,"
remarked Frank.

"He was, but he isn't any longer," replied Colonel Pavet.

"What do you mean?" asked Frank. "Has he been arrested?"

"He's been killed," was the answer.

"How did that happen?"

"He was shot while attempting to escape from the officers who were
taking him to prison," said the colonel. "At least, that was the
explanation given. More than likely that was only a pretext. But
he is dead anyway, and so is that she-tigress, Rosa Luxemburg, who
was his partner in stirring up the mobs. They sowed the wind of
riot and massacre and now they have reaped the whirlwind."

"Well, now that they are killed I suppose things will quiet down
somewhat," remarked Frank.

The colonel shook his head.

"I don't know," he said dubiously. "The mobs will probably try to
obtain revenge for the killing of their leaders. Things look very
black, not only in Berlin but in every part of the country.
Business is paralyzed, millions are on strike, the food situation
is bad, and the whole nation is mad with the bitterness of
defeat."

"How about their signing the treaty?" asked Frank. "Do you think
they will do it?"

"They say they won't," replied the colonel. "They are calling it
all kinds of names, 'the graveside of right', 'the Peace of
violence', 'the shackles of slaves' and all that kind of rot. They
swear they will never sign it. But then you have to take that talk
for what it is worth. The Germans are the greatest bluffers and
the quickest quitters in the world. There is what you Americans
call the 'yellow streak' all through the nation. They said they
wouldn't sign the armistice, but they signed it. They said they'd
never let us enter their territory, but we're here. Now they're
saying they'll never sign the Peace Treaty, but they'll probably
do it when it comes to the pinch. Outside they're tigers, but
inside they're sheep."

"Well," said Frank, "I almost wish they wouldn't. I'd rather have
the treaty signed at Berlin than at Versailles."

"Eager for more fighting with the Huns?" asked the colonel, with
an amused smile.

"Not that exactly," returned Frank. "But when I start a job I like
to finish it and finish it right."

"Well," said the colonel, "you may have all the fighting you want
right here in the Coblenz bridgehead. I heard rumors when I was in
Berlin that a movement was on foot to stir up trouble in the zone
of American occupation. Agitators were to be sent there by the
Spartacans to try to overthrow the local government and take the
reins of power. I heard that proposed myself at a street meeting
of rioters that I witnessed from the windows of my hotel. A man
with a red beard was declaiming at the top of his lungs and
predicting that if the people of Coblenz would rise under the red
flag they could sweep the hated Americans back from the Rhine."

"A man with a red beard, did you say?" asked Frank.

"Why, yes," answered the colonel, a little amused by his
earnestness. "Not that there's anything extraordinary about that,
I should suppose. There are probably thousands of men with red
beards in Berlin. Why do you ask?"

"Because," said Frank, "the man whom we captured in the ruined
castle last night and whom the lieutenant has been examining also
has a red beard. He is an agitator of the worst type, and I know
from what he said in his speech that he comes from Berlin. It may
be only a coincidence, but if so it's a singular one."

"I shouldn't wonder if you were right," said the colonel. "What is
the man's name?"

"Spatler, I think," replied Frank. "Heinrich Spatler. At any rate
that's the name he gave to the lieutenant."

"Spatler," repeated the colonel, wrinkling his brows. "It seems to
me that I saw that name on one of the banners carried by the
rioters at the meeting. It may be that you are right. If he's the
same man, he's a fanatic of the most dangerous kind and will stop
at nothing. I hope that now your people have him under lock and
key you'll keep him there. But I must go now, as I want to reach
Mayence to-night if possible. I'm very glad to have had this few
minutes' chat with you. By the way, when have you heard from
Madame Sheldon? I hope that she is well."

"I had a letter from her a week ago," replied Frank. "She is in
excellent health and full of gratitude to you for your efforts in
recovering her property. As soon as I am released from the Army of
Occupation she plans to meet me in Paris and go with me to
Auvergne. There she will have a chance to meet you and express her
thanks in person."

"I shall be charmed," replied the colonel. "I should like nothing
better than to have her settle in France permanently as a resident
of our beautiful Auvergne, but I suppose that is too much to hope
for. You have America in your blood."

"Yes," laughed Frank. "France is beautiful and great, but America
is to me above all."

"I should think less of you if it were not so," answered Colonel
Pavet. "_Au revoir,_ then. Remember me to Madame Sheldon when
you write."

With a cordial handshake they parted. The colonel vaulted into the
saddle of his horse which an orderly was holding at the door, and
Frank returned to his comrades, who he found busily preparing to
return to Coblenz, in accordance with an order that had just come
from the lieutenant.

"Why we've just got here!" objected Frank, when he heard the news.
"And now we're going back!"

"It's this way," explained Tom. "The lieutenant is anxious to get
those prisoners off his hands and safe in jail at Coblenz. It
seems that he pumped a lot of information out of one of the
fellows who gave away his comrades, and he wants headquarters to
go into the matter at once. We've been chosen among others to
guard the prisoners because we took them and we may be wanted as
witnesses. So back we go, and I'm glad of it."

"Same here," echoed Billy.

Bart and Frank looked at each other and laughed.

"'Alice, where art thou?'" quoted Bart.

"We know why you fellows want to get back to Coblenz in such a
hurry," joked Frank. "Gee, it must be awful to have such a
hankering. I will admit, however, that Alice and Helen are pretty
girls. Bless you, my children, bless you."

"Quit your kidding and get busy," admonished Billy. "We start in
half an hour."

"We'll be ready," replied Frank. "Watch our smoke."

At the appointed hour all was ready and the company set off with
their prisoners under guard. There was a strong detachment as
escort, and in addition to the men's rifles, a couple of machine
guns were taken along, as the lieutenant was taking no chances. He
had learned enough from the perusal of the papers and the
testimony of the informer to believe that serious trouble was
brewing, and he was anxious above all that the prisoners should be
safely delivered at Coblenz.

It was a beautiful winter day. The air, though cold, was still,
and the sun was shining brightly. The boys were in high spirits
and joked and laughed as they trudged along. The prisoners alone
were sullen and depressed. The man with the red beard was the only
one that maintained an air of defiant.

Suddenly, the roar of an aeroplane made itself heard, and, looking
up, the boys descried it sailing above them like a gigantic bird
and moving in the same direction in which they were traveling.
They saw at a glance that it was an American plane.

"No more need to duck for shelter when we see those things,"
laughed Billy.

"No bombs coming down to smash us into bits," exulted Bart.

"No," said Frank, "all German planes are on the ground. They can't
look for Red Cross signs and hospitals any more."

"This fellow's swooping down!" exclaimed Tom, with heightened
interest. "Maybe he's caught sight of us fellows and wants to get
a closer look."




CHAPTER X

FROM THE SKY


"More likely it's engine trouble of some kind," suggested Frank,
gazing at the swooping airplane. "My, but he's a nifty driver! See
how he handles that machine!"

"Dick Lever himself couldn't do better," remarked Bart, as he
watched the graceful curves described by the aviator in his
descent.

"Good old Dick!" observed Billy. "I wonder where he is now."

The aviator was evidently aiming for a large open space a little
to the right and in advance of the moving column. Soon he had
reached it and landed as lightly as a feather.

"Wouldn't have broken a pane of glass if it had come down on it,"
observed Tom admiringly. "That fellow knows his business."

The aviator climbed out of his machine and came over toward the
column, which had just received the order for the ten minutes
rest, which, according to regulations, came at the end of every
hour of marching.

He was encased in heavy clothing and his face was almost concealed
by the fur-rimmed visor that he wore.

"Something about that fellow that looks familiar," remarked Billy.

"By the great horn spoon!" ejaculated Frank, "it's Dick Lever
himself."

"That's what," smiled the newcomer, as the boys surrounded him
and, with a yell, fell upon him.

There was no mistaking the warmth of the greeting, and Dick smiled
with gratification as he extricated himself from their grasp and
tried to shake hands with them all at once.

"What good wind blew you this way?" queried Frank.

"A mighty cold wind, as you fellows would admit if you were up
there," laughed Dick.

"You look pretty well fixed for it," commented Billy, as he took
in Dick's voluminous trappings. "A polar bear has nothing on you."

"I need every bit of it," answered Dick. "But where are you
fellows bound for, and what are you doing with these birds?" he
continued, glancing at the motley group of prisoners.

"We're taking them into Coblenz to let our people give them the
once over and the third degree," explained Frank. "They've been
trying to stir up trouble in the American zone. Cunning little
bunch, isn't it?"

"I'm glad you've got your claws on them," Dick remarked, looking
at the group with cold disfavor. "There's a whole lot more like
them that ought to be rounded up. I tell you our people have been
too easy with this breed of cattle and they're going to be sorry
for it. We're so afraid of being harsh that we go to the other
extreme. We stand up so straight that we fall over backward. The
Germans don't understand anything but force, and unless we exert
it they think we're afraid to."

"Think we're too easy?" asked Bart.  "You bet we are!" replied
Dick. "We ought to treat them as the French do at Mayence and the
British at Cologne. They know the people they're dealing with, and
while they're just, they're stern. Anyone who tries to put
anything over on them finds that he's monkeying with a buzz saw.
Unless we wake up from our easy good-nature, we'll find ourselves
with a lot of trouble on our hands."

"You seem to be rather worked up about it," remarked Billy.

"Not a bit more than I ought to be," returned Dick earnestly. "I
have chances of seeing things that you fellows don't. I'm flying
all over the occupied zone, and I tell you that the Spartacides
are trying to stir up trouble everywhere. In almost every other
town you can see the red flag flying. There's stormy weather
coming, and we've got to be prepared for gales."

"That just fits in with what Colonel Pavet of the French Army was
telling me to-day," said Frank. "He's just back from Berlin, and
he's sure there's trouble afoot."

"Well," said Dick, "I hope that we're both false prophets, but I'm
afraid we're not. I'll have to get on now, fellows."

"What did you come down for?" asked Tom. "Engine trouble?"

"No, it wasn't that," replied Dick. "The old girl is working fine.
I just saw an American bunch marching along here and dropped down
to say 'howdy.' I'm off now. See you soon in Coblenz."

With a wave of his hand, he walked over, climbed into his machine,
and started skyward.

The boys watched him soaring until his machine was only a dot in
the steel blue of the winter sky, and then, as their brief rest
period had ended, started on the march to Coblenz.

"One great boy, that Dick," remarked Frank, when the aviator was
finally lost to sight.

"You bet he is," agreed Billy emphatically. "He's one of the
greatest aces that ever climbed into a plane."

"I suppose he must be feeling rather lonely now that he isn't
bringing down his daily Hun," suggested Tom.

"He's all wool and a yard wide," affirmed Bart. "I'll never forget
that if it hadn't been for him I might never have got back to you
fellows."

"Do you remember the time he swooped down with his machine guns
popping and carried us off when we were being taken to a German
prison camp?" asked Frank. "I tell you it took nerve for a fellow
to charge a whole detachment."

"Oh, he's got nerve enough for a whole regiment," declared Billy.
"He'd be a mighty handy fellow to have at your back in any kind of
scrap, and don't you forget it."

In a short time they reached the town without further adventure
and delivered their prisoners into the hands of the authorities.
They were off duty then and had no further assignment for the rest
of the afternoon and evening. The early winter dusk was settling
down, but it was yet a full hour before it would be entirely dark.

"What are you going to do with yourself, Bart?" asked Frank. "I
know of course what Tom and Billy are going to do. They're going
to make tracks for the house where their deities reside."

"Good guess," admitted Billy. "You bet we are."

"I haven't anything special on hand," replied Bart in answer to
Frank's question.

"Come along with me then," said his chum.

"Anywhere you say, what's the game?"

"I'm going straight for the alley where they nearly got our number
the other night. That thing's on my mind all the time. It haunts
me even in my sleep. I'm going to get to the bottom of that
mystery or know the reason why."

"All right. I'm with you."

By the time they had reached the alley it was almost entirely
dark. Choosing a moment when the street was empty, they slipped
into the alley and made their way toward the further end.

They felt the walls on either side as they went along for
indications of a door or opening of any kind. They did the same
with the blank wall that closed the alley at the other end.
Nothing rewarded their search. The wall at the farther end was far
too high to scale. It seemed impossible for anything except with
wings to vanish from the alley as completely as had their
assailants on that memorable night when they had so nearly lost
their lives.

"It beats me," said Bart at length. "We saw them go in and we
followed them up and they weren't there. Sounds like black magic,
doesn't it?"

"It surely does," agreed Frank, in great perplexity. "They didn't
go through the back, they couldn't go through the sides, they
couldn't go into the air, but they did go somewhere."

"Down into the ground," suggested Bart jokingly. "That seems the
only place left."

Frank started.

"There's many a true word spoken in jest," he said. "Perhaps
you've hit it, Bart. That's one place we haven't examined."

"Small chance to examine that just now," said Bart. "You can see
it's all covered with a glare of ice. There isn't a bit of ground
showing."

They walked over the ice-covered surface with scarcely a hope
under present conditions of making any discoveries, even if there
were any to make. They had to depend entirely upon the sense of
touch, for it was by this time pitch dark and Frank did not care
to flash his light for fear they might be observed by passers-by.

They had come perhaps to within twenty feet of the rear wall, when
Frank gave a sudden exclamation.




CHAPTER XI

MARSHAL FOCH AND GENERAL PERSHING


"What is it, Frank?" asked Bart Raymond in a low voice.

"My foot sank in," explained Frank. "It's softer here for some
reason than in the rest of the alley. Just wait a minute till I
can feel around here and see what I can make of it."

He felt about cautiously with his feet and found that the ice had
softened for a space of about four feet and that the space was
almost perfectly square.

"There's some reason why this spot should be different from the
rest," he said, after having verified his discovery. "It's all
open to the weather, like every other part of the alley, and
there's only one explanation. There's heat coming up from beneath.
That means that there must be an open space beneath this spot. I
wish I dared use my flashlight."

"Wait a minute," said Bart. "I'll slip out to the mouth of the
alley and see if the coast is clear. If it is, I'll give a low
whistle and then you flash your light and see what it shows you."

He left his companion, and a moment after Frank heard the signal
agreed upon.

Instantly he flashed his light on the rectangular space that had
caught his attention.

The ice had melted there to such an extent that only a thin glaze
covered the surface. Through this transparent covering Frank
Sheldon caught sight of what seemed to be the outline of a door
covered with gravel that only partially concealed it. He thought
he saw something too that faintly resembled an iron ring.

"A trap door!" he muttered under his breath, jubilant in the
thought that he had perhaps fallen upon a clue to the mystery that
had so long perplexed him.

He took out his knife and began to dig down toward the ring, when
a low whistle from the opening to the alley warned him to be on
the alert. Instantly the light was extinguished and the next
moment Bart was at his side.

"Better let up, Frank," he whispered. "There's a big commotion
down the street and a crowd is beginning to gather. I think it's a
fire."

As he spoke, a fire engine clanged down the street and an
increasingly red light made itself apparent in the sky.

"Too bad," grumbled Frank, as he put his flashlight back into his
pocket "I think I was just on the verge of finding out something
that would put us on the track of those fellows who seemed to
vanish into thin air."

"Hard luck," murmured Bart, sympathetically, "but well have to
give it up for the present."

Frank hesitated, but the increasing glare that made the alley
visible and the sound of footsteps of people hurrying to the fire
showed him that his friend was right, and he reluctantly desisted.

"To-morrow's a new day," said Bart consolingly, as the comrades
stole out of the alley and mingled with the groups of passers-by.

"If Tom and Billy can tear themselves away from the girls, we'll
bring them with us the first chance we get and try to clear up the
whole mystery," observed Frank.

But this proved more difficult than they expected, and many days
were to pass before their discovery could be followed up. There
was a sudden tightening of the military regulations, which the
boys attributed in part at least to the revelations that had
followed the examination of their prisoners. A rigorous system of
drill and training was put in force and the Army Boys' hours of
liberty were greatly curtailed in consequence. They were kept more
closely to their barracks, and their visits to the town except in
the line of duty became few and far between.

The day following Frank's discovery that company of the old
Thirty-seventh to which the boys belonged was sent on a long hike
in full marching equipment, and when they returned after several
hours they were, as Tom expressed it, "dog-tired." Nor were they
pleased to find that in the interval their quarters had been
changed and they had been assigned to another part of the
barracks.

It was with sighs of relief that they eased their heavy packs from
their shoulders and dropped them thumping to the floor.

"Gosh!" exclaimed Billy, "I don't mind carrying a pack that weighs
sixty pounds or even eighty; but after a time this pack of mine
gets to weigh about two tons, and that seems just a little bit too
much."

"You told a whole bookful that time," said Tom ruefully. "It is
surprising how those packs keep getting heavier all the time.
Another half mile, and I think the straps would have been through
my shoulders altogether."

"Well, there's no use worrying about what might have happened,"
laughed Frank, "seeing that we've arrived safe and sound. While
we're in barracks we'll be able to get three square meals a day,
and that appeals to me more, even, than getting rid of the old
pack."

Frank had hardly finished speaking when an officer approached and
called: "Attention!" Then followed roll call, and the boys,
together with a number of their comrades, were assigned to a
barracks next but one to that in which they had stopped. This, of
course, necessitated shouldering the heavy packs once more, but by
this time the boys had come to expect things like this, so took it
all as a matter of course, and soon found themselves in the
quarters that were to be theirs until the order came once more to
march.

The barracks was furnished with rows of army cots, and the boys
dropped their packs at the heads of those assigned to them. Then
began the task of unpacking, and by the time that was completed it
was almost time for mess.

"It's lucky we got our mess kits out before mess call blew,"
commented Tom. "It would be an awful thing to get caught without
them around meal time."

"Not much danger of that," said Billy, with a mischievous twinkle
in his eye. "We've been in the army quite some time now, Tom, and
yet I can't call to mind a single time when you weren't Johnny on
the spot when the bugle blew for eats."

"Say, don't you two fellows go to starting an argument along those
lines," interrupted Bart. "When it comes to being chow hounds, I
think we're all tarred with the same brush. None of us has ever
got a call from the mess sergeant for not being on time."

"Well, perhaps you're right," admitted Tom laughingly. "And when
you get right down to it, the whole of this man's army seems to be
about the same way, so that leaves nothing for us to argue about."

Mess kits in hand, they all trooped down to the kitchen and took
their places on the line that already was of sizable length. They
wound slowly past the cooks, and in course of time the four
friends were served and fell to on a savory plate of substantial
food.

For a short time conversation ceased, the boys giving their whole-
hearted attention to the entertainment that Uncle Sam had
provided. The food disappeared with astonishing rapidity, and when
the last of it was gone Billy exclaimed:

"Fellows, we can kick all we want to over army life, but I never
had such an appetite in civilian life, and never felt half as good
as I do right this minute."

"All right, then, since you like it," grinned Frank, "to-morrow
I'll let you carry my pack as well as your own, and then you'll
feel just twice as good as you do now."

"No, thanks," declined Billy. "I don't want to feel any better
than I do now. If I felt any better, I'd go to the medical officer
to find out what was wrong with me."

"If you ate much more, you'd have a quartermaster officer coming
around to find out what was the matter with you," countered Tom.

"The trouble with you is, that you don't understand my motives,"
complained Billy. "Personally, I dislike food, and, if I had my
way, would make a canary bird look like a heavy eater. But I feel
that it's my duty to eat a lot so that I can keep up my strength
and continue to be a terror to all Germans. Uncle Sam expects this
of me, and I refuse to disappoint him."

"Oh, well, if that's your motive, it's all right," said Tom, with
mock gravity. "But seeing you in action, it looked to me as though
you really enjoyed your grub. I hope you'll excuse my mistake."

"Oh, that's all right, please don't mention it," said Billy, with
a magnanimous wave of his hand. "I've known others to make the
same mistake, but, believe me or not, they don't always accept my
statements as you do, when I explain the true state of affairs to
them."

"Some people are hard to convince, I suppose," replied Tom, "but I
guess I'm one of the easy ones."

"It's easier for both of you to talk than to wash mess gear
apparently," said Frank, "What do you say to canning some of that
brilliant repartee so that we can get these things out of the way
and have time for a little something else before taps blow?"

"Suits me," acquiesced Billy. "But it surely does make me feel bad
to have people think I really like to eat, and I can't seem to
rest easy until I set them right. But now, let's get these things
cleaned up in a little less than no time."

It did not take long for the boys to get their mess kits cleaned
and out of the way, and then they found themselves with a couple
of hours to spend exactly as they pleased.

"Might as well wander over toward the canteen and see what's
doing," suggested Frank, and as none of the others had anything
better to propose, they acted accordingly.

At the canteen all was life, bustle and activity, one line always
going in to purchase tobacco, candy, and such other little
comforts as were on sale, and another coming out in possession of
these valued commodities. It was hard to realize that all these
men were tried and seasoned fighters, ready to "go and get the Hun
at the drop of a hat."

"What's doing in the way of a camp entertainment to-night?" asked
Frank of one burly doughboy, who was contentedly munching a huge
piece of cake.

"I understand there's going to be a movie show," replied the
latter. "They generally have pretty good reels too, so I'd advise
you not to miss it."

"Much obliged," said Frank. "Guess we might as well take it in,
fellows, what do you say?" turning to his companions.

"Sure thing," they assented, and accordingly made their way to a
brightly lighted tent, toward which many others were going. They
arrived there only a short time before the show was to start, and
having secured good seats, settled down to enjoy it.

The scene of the picture was in the West, when it was still "wild
and woolly," and depicted many encounters between settlers and
Indians. These fights were the subject of much criticism by the
expert audience, who did not hesitate to shout words of advice at
critical situations.

"Gosh!" growled one doughboy, in deep disgust, "just one machine
gun would have cleaned up that bunch of redskins in less time than
it takes a Hun to say _'kamerad'_"

"Yes, or a few good hand grenades would have done their business
for them, too," said another. "It's too bad the old timers didn't
have a few of those modern playthings along. It would have made
things a whole lot easier for them."

"What would have been the matter with a few tankfuls of poison
gas?" suggested Bart. "Seems to me that would have made them curl
up and quit pretty quick."

There were other suggestions of the same nature, and when the
picture finally came to a close there was a general impression
that such warfare was mild indeed compared to that of the present
day.

"I don't know how you fellows feel," remarked Frank, as they filed
out of the tent and started for their barracks, "but I feel tired
enough to crawl into my little two by four and get a real night's
sleep."

"I'm with you," declared Tom. "I felt all right before, but that
picture seems to have made me tired, because now it's all I can do
to stay awake."

"I guess it must have been the picture all right," said Billy,
"because certainly it isn't because of overwork."

"Well, I didn't claim it was from overwork, did I?" replied Tom.
"I enlisted in the Army to fight Germans, not to work. All I've
had to do is march twenty or thirty miles a day with a sixty pound
pack on my back, but outside of that I must admit that I didn't do
much work, except dig trenches, do sentry duty, and kill a few
Huns as a sideline. It certainly is one grand picnic for me, I
don't mind admitting."

"Yes, and to make you like it all the more," said Billy, "I hear
that there's going to be big doings to-morrow--a review, plenty of
marching and maneuvering to give the soldiers a good time, and it
is expected a pleasant day will be had by all."

"You might know something like that would happen just when we
think we're laid up for a nice rest," grumbled Tom. "But maybe it
will rain, and then the whole thing will have to be called off."

But Tom's hope was a vain one, for the next day broke clear and
delightful, with never a suggestion of rain in the heavens.
Reveille blew at its accustomed unearthly time, according to the
soldiers' standpoint, and the boys could soon tell that something
was "in the wind" by the air of suppressed excitement on every
hand.

"Guess you were right, Billy," said Tom, who had not as yet fully
recovered from his grouch of the previous evening. "I thought when
the armistice was signed that we would be all through with this
sort of thing, but I suppose I should have known better."

"We're not through with it yet, and what's more, we won't be
through with it for some time to come," said Frank. "Remember, the
peace treaty isn't signed yet, and in Berlin they say they're not
going to sign it. And it's just a case of where we can't let up
until they do."

"As far as I'm concerned, I wish they wouldn't sign it," said
Bart. "We stopped fighting too soon, anyway. We should have kept
on until we'd carried the war on to German territory. It would do
me good to see their cities get a dose of the same medicine they
handed out to French and Belgian towns."

"There's a lot of people feel the same way," agreed Frank. "But
before we get through with them I think they'll realize that
they've got the loser's end of the proposition."

Just as Frank ceased speaking the bugle blew general assembly, and
the boys hastened to fall into ranks. The officers paced up and
down the lines, straightening them out and inspecting clothing and
equipment as they went along. Then their captain appeared on the
scene and proceeded to make them a short address.

"Men," he said, "the regiment is going to be inspected by General
Pershing to-day, and I hardly need to tell every one of you to be
right up on his toes. I know you can pass a perfect inspection,
and it's up to every man to be a credit to the regiment."

After the captain had left the officer next in charge supplemented
his word.

"You are going to be dismissed now, and will have a chance to get
thoroughly cleaned up and ready for inspection," he said. "Any man
that isn't in first class shape by the time assembly blows again
is going to find himself out of luck. Dismissed!"

Everybody saluted, and the Army Boys joined in the rush back to
the barracks. The next hour was a busy one, in which razors, combs
and brushes were applied vigorously, and the man with a complete
shoe cleaning outfit found himself suddenly popular. The scene in
the crowded washrooms resembled pandemonium let loose, but in an
incredibly short time first one man and then another emerged spic
and span, and by the time the bugle blew again there were only a
few stragglers who were caught unprepared. These last threw
themselves desperately into their uniforms, and two minutes after
the bugle sounded every man was standing in his appointed place.

Then followed the preliminary inspection, after which the command
"at ease" was given. Everybody shifted to a more comfortable
position, and prepared for the long delay that they knew would
probably ensue.

"Wonder how long it will be before the general arrives,"
speculated Frank. "It's only about half past nine now, and I don't
believe he'll get here anything like that early."

"He'll probably have lunch first," predicted Tom, gloomily.
"They've just got us out here now with the idea that standing will