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Title: The Boy Scout pathfinders

Author: George Durston

Release date: July 11, 2022 [eBook #68497]

Language: English

Original publication: United States: The Saalfield Publishing Company, 1921

Credits: Roger Frank, Al Haines and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOY SCOUT PATHFINDERS ***


                     THE BOY SCOUT PATHFINDERS




                           TWELVE VOLUMES

                  THE BOY SCOUTS ON THE TRAIL
                  THE BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT
                  THE BOY SCOUTS IN CAMP
                  THE BOY SCOUTS TO THE RESCUE
                  THE BOY SCOUT FIREFIGHTERS
                  THE BOY SCOUT PATHFINDERS
                  THE BOY SCOUT AUTOMOBILISTS
                  THE BOY SCOUT AVIATORS
                  THE BOY SCOUTS’ CHAMPION RECRUIT
                  THE BOY SCOUTS’ DEFIANCE
                  THE BOY SCOUTS’ CHALLENGE
                  THE BOY SCOUTS’ VICTORY




[Illustration: They sent the message quickly, accurately.]




                     THE BOY SCOUT PATHFINDERS

                                 By
                           GEORGE DURSTON


                  THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY
               Chicago      AKRON, OHIO      New York
                          Made in U. S. A.




                          Copyright, 1921
                                 By
                    The Saalfield Publishing Co.




                             CHAPTER I

                            THE IRON BOX


Two members of any staff, even though they are only boys, cannot
disappear as though the earth had swallowed them without a suspicion
of foul play.

In the office above the chamber which had witnessed the stirring
events narrated in “The Boy Scout Firefighters,” in which both Beany
and Porky Potter had been actors, there had been great anxiety. When
General Pershing received the report, he at once sent couriers and
scouts to every station where the boys might have gone. The sentries
one and all declared that the boys had not been seen outside of the
building. This resulted in a combing out of every cranny that could
possibly hold a boy alive or dead.

The hours dragged on. There was a continual passing to and fro for
hours until at last there seemed to be absolutely nothing more to do
until morning. The tired staff threw themselves into the office
chairs, while the General, at the typewriter, commenced a letter.
Out of respect to him, there was a complete silence in the room.

On and on clicked the typewriter while the waiting men dozed or
smoked or thought of home.

“What’s that?” said one of them suddenly, listening intently.

The General stopped writing and looked at the speaker.

“What’s what?” questioned a captain, frowning.

“That tapping,” said the first speaker. “Sounds like _code_.”

“You have been asleep,” said the captain, grinning.

“I hear it,” said the General.

There was a general gathering up of forces, as the whole room tried
to place the faint, monotonous tapping.

“The call for help!” said the first speaker triumphantly. “I _knew_
I heard it. The code is my native language almost. It sounds as
though some one was calling from below the floor.”

“Send an answer, Lieutenant Reed!” ordered the General.

The young officer obeyed, while his hearers listened breathlessly.
Tap-tap went the spurred heel, dash and dot, dash and dot in many
combinations.

The reply followed swiftly. The Lieutenant, rather pale, turned to
the General. “It’s the boys!” he reported. “They are together, in a
closed chamber,--a dungeon, I take it--right below us. They are in
danger. Don’t say what. Something about spies and dynamite. Want
help instantly.”

“How?” asked the General.

“There’s a secret door in the oak panel in the hall. They gave
directions for opening it.”

“Go at once, six of you--you six nearest the door!” The officers
designated rose.

“Rush!” said Lieutenant Reed crisply. For the moment he was in
command. He alone knew how to open the panel. They hurried outside,
where Reed felt swiftly but carefully in the place described by
Porky. Twice he went over the heavy carving, pushing here and there
unavailingly. Then without a sound the secret door opened and before
any one could enter the passage that yawned in inky blackness before
them, there was a rush of running feet and the two boys, carrying
Beany’s coat between them, bolted into the hall. Porky made a motion
for silence, and listened.

There was no sound.

“Somebody chased us!” he panted. “Somebody was close behind us in
the dark!”

“Men?” asked an officer in an excited whisper.

Porky wanted to say “No, sir, _rabbits_!” but he knew that every one
felt nervous and edgy and, besides, he did not want to be
disrespectful to the officer who had spoken.

“They came in through the other door,” he said. “A door at the other
end of the passage that is on the other side of the two big rooms
down below there.”

“Let’s go down,” said one of the men, loosening his revolver.

“Please don’t try it!” begged Beany. “We could never get down
without light and then they would have the drop on us. It’s no use
now. Besides, they could go out of that outside door without the
least trouble after they had shot us all up.”

“The kid is right,” said Lieutenant Reed. “He knows how the land
lies down there. Come up to the General, boys, and make a report. He
will tell us what he wants done.”

Sliding the panel shut, the Lieutenant called a guard and, leaving
the hallway patrolled by a couple of stalwart Americans, the group
surrounding the two boys entered the office and saluted the General.

General Pershing bent his serious, keen gaze on the boys, then a
bright, sudden smile lighted the strong, handsome face that had
grown sad and still in the troubled, anxious months at the front.

“Always up to something, boys,” he said. “Well, your friend the
Colonel warned me how it would be. Now suppose you tell me all about
it.”

Beany with a sigh of relief lifted his blouse and deposited it on
the table. It struck the surface with a clank and as he pulled the
cloth away a regular flood of gold pieces covered the papers where
the General had been writing.

“Part of the story, sir,” said Beany. And then talking together, or
taking turns, as the spirit moved them, the boys pieced out the
account of their adventures. The part that Beany kept harking back
to was the presence of the prisoners in the big room. He described
carefully and accurately the appearance of the young soldier and
told as well as he could about the limp, unconscious girl who had
been carried out into the dark garden. Beany shuddered as he spoke.

“I am sure the girl was dead, sir. She laid there for hours, I
guess, and she never moved at all, never batted an eyelash. And she
was white.... I never saw anybody so white. It was as though all her
blood had been drained out of her.”

“Was she wounded?” asked the General.

“She must have been, sir,” answered Beany. “I saw blood, just a
little of it running down her wrist under her sleeve. She had nice
clothes on, and I had a hunch all the time that I ought to know who
she was; but I couldn’t tell. Wish we knew what they did with them.
When it comes light, General, I can show you just where the door is.
I am sure I know where it opens.”

“It is light now,” said the General, pointing to the window. Every
one looked. Sure enough, the whole sky was a mass of pale gold and
pink and greenish blue, as lovely and soft and joyous as though the
distant rumble of the big guns was not shaking the casement as they
spoke. It was light; morning had come.

The General ordered coffee and rolls and insisted on both boys
eating something. They were tired and heavy eyed but excited at the
thought of unraveling perhaps a little more of the mystery of the
past night.

When at last the General dismissed them with a few terse orders,
they sped ahead of their escort through the silent garden, fearless
and curious and unconscious of the careful marksmen who followed,
protecting each foot of their advance.

Beany had spoken the truth. With the sureness of a young hound he
took his way through a wilderness of stones and bricks and beams and
plaster through the tangled, torn old garden, and round to a spot
marked by what seemed to be a clump of dense bushes like low growing
lilacs. Approaching this, Beany parted the branches and peered in.
Then he drew back with a cry of horror.

“Look!” he whispered.

It was indeed the ambush set over the outside entrance to the
dungeons. Down in the depths of the hole that yawned under the
encircling bushes something was tumbled in a pitiful, distorted
heap. Eagerly a half dozen men leaped down and with careful hands
straightened out the two forms lying in the bloody ooze. One after
the other they were lifted to the surface.

The man was quite dead but the girl still lived, though breathing
feebly.

Placing her on an improvised stretcher, a couple of the men hurried
away with her to the hospital while a couple more knelt beside the
dead boy and searched carefully through his torn and blood-stained
clothing for papers, letters--anything that could be used as clues to
his identity. There was not a scrap left to guide them. The young
officer’s pockets had been turned inside out. Even the hems in his
tunic and breeches had been slit and the soles had been torn from
his shoes. If there had been papers of any sort secreted about him,
they were gone--carried away by the ruthless hands that had slain
him.

Leaving a guard beside the body, the others leaped boldly into the
shallow pit and lifted the heavy bar which held the massive
nail-studded oaken door. It opened inward, and Beany led the way
through the passage into the chamber where he had sat bound, gagged
and waiting for the relentless hands of the clock to reach the
moment of his doom. He showed the device, and then, lighting the
stubs of candles, they went into the inner room. The dungeons were
dark as midnight, even in the clear morning light.

A careful search was made of the rooms. They stamped on the floors,
rapped on the walls with pistol butts, ripped up the silken covers
and the thick mattresses, but found nothing. The men finally stopped
their search, and gathered in a group around the massive table.
Beany, sitting on the edge of the table, jounced up and down and
thought that he had never seen a piece of furniture quite so solid.
He took out a penknife and tried to whittle the edge but the keen
blade scarcely made an impression on the ironwood seasoned for ages.
Porky, watching his brother, listened to the conversation.

“Somewhere down here there is a hiding place for papers or money, or
perhaps both,” said one of the officers, a keen-faced, thoughtful
man, studying the room as he could see it in the flickering light of
the two candles which, now burned down to the merest stubs, afforded
a dim, uncertain light.

“We have given it a pretty thorough combing over,” said another
officer, frowning.

“I can’t help it,” stubbornly answered the other. “It is in just
such places as this where valuable secrets are often hidden.”

“What about the dynamite?” demanded some one else. “It does not seem
as though they would hide anything of any value to themselves in a
spot that they were willing to blow up.”

“A bomb that size would not have wrecked this room. Did you notice
the thickness of the walls?”

The talk went on while Beany whittled and pried away industriously
at the table edge. He found a crack in the wood and pried his knife
blade into that. The blade entered in a tantalizing manner, slipped
smoothly along, then struck metal. Beany pushed. Porky, who was
watching, came closer and peered down the crack. Beany pushed
harder, pushed as hard as he could, and suddenly felt himself flung
off the table as the big top flew up and hurled him aside.

Powerful springs had opened the two heavy slabs of oak that formed
the table. Two pieces now stood open like a pair of doors and within
lay a long, flat box which completely filled the space. The box was
of iron, heavily barred and padlocked. Four soldiers pried it from
its place and, escorted by the whole party, it was carried to
General Pershing, still working at his desk.

Once more the boys had unearthed a mystery.




                             CHAPTER II

                        THE CELLAR’S SECRET


Porky and Beany were too tired to care what happened next and,
taking quick advantage of a brief smile and nod of dismissal from
the General, they made their way to their quarters and soon were as
sound asleep as though they were lying on the softest down. They
slept and slept, losing all track of time, and by the General’s
orders were undisturbed. When they finally woke, really wide awake,
they found that a whole day and a night had passed since the early
dawn when they had staggered off to bed.

They woke at the same instant, as was their habit, and sitting bolt
upright, stared unblinkingly at the young officer sitting at the
window writing.

“Morning, Lieutenant,” said Porky, rubbing his eyes.

“What’s the time, sir?” said Beany, looking curiously at his wrist
watch.

“Yours stopped too?” asked Porky. “Mine has. Funny!”

“Not so very funny,” said Lieutenant Parker, closing his writing
tablet. “You have been asleep since yesterday morning, and I imagine
the watches ran down.”

“Yesterday morning!” gasped Porky. “Why didn’t some one call us?”

“General’s orders,” said the Lieutenant. He laughed, “Gee, I wish he
would order _me_ to bed for a week. You can bet I would go!”

“Well, it makes me mad to sleep like this,” said Porky in
irritation. “What all have we missed, anyhow?”

“Nothing much,” said the Lieutenant. “The biggest drive of the war
is on and to-morrow General Pershing with his staff will make the
trip along the front line trenches. I hope he counts me in on that.”

“You liked to be in the trenches, didn’t you?” asked Porky, stooping
to lace his puttees.

“You are right I did,” said Lieutenant Parker, wrinkling his smooth
young forehead. “I came over to fight, and it was just my luck to
get this measly scratch on my head, and blamed if they didn’t put me
here in this office doing paper work!”

“Well, you got to give your skull time to get well, haven’t you?”
asked Beany. “It was cracked, wasn’t it?”

“No, just a piece scooped out of it,” said the Lieutenant in a bored
tone.

The boys grinned. Lieutenant Parker was one of the best friends they
had, and they had learned that nothing teased him like being quizzed
about the deep, palpitating scar that creased his dark head, the
truth being that he had received the wound in an encounter that had
won him the coveted French war cross with the palms. Porky and Beany
considered modesty in others little less than a sin. They were
always so thirsty for tales of blood and glory that they could not
see why _any one_ should hesitate to tell every possible detail of
any adventure. It happened, strangely enough, that they did not
apply the same rule to their own conduct. To get details out of the
Potter twins was, as their own father said, like drawing nails out
of a green oak board, accompanied by screeches of protest. The boys
had had the Lieutenant’s story, however, and they harked back to the
news of the day.

“I am going on that hike,” said Porky, standing up and stamping
himself comfortably into his clothes.

“So’m I,” said his brother, likewise stamping.

“Try for something else, kid,” said the Lieutenant. “You can’t get
in on this. It is strictly staff.”

“Watch me!” said young Porky, the cocksure. He hurried to the door
and disappeared, while Beany, a trifle slower in his dressing,
roared, “Wait for me!”

A muttered response of some sort was the only satisfaction given.

Beany grinned. “He is always so sudden!” he complained, addressing
the Lieutenant.

“Might as well stay here until he comes back. I never like to butt
in on Porky’s talky-talks. He most generally knows what he wants to
say, and he don’t need any help in getting it out of his system. I
certainly hope we can go with the General. You are always yelling
about that old silver plate you have on your topknot. Look at us:
seems like we just can’t get into a trench. Honest Injun, I’m so
sick of this old chateau--”

“I never did see such a pair!” said Lieutenant Parker. “Didn’t you
have enough of an adventure the other night to last you two or three
days?”

He was going on, when Porky burst into the room. He threw up his
hat.

“Better, much better than I ever hoped,” he crowed.

“Hand it out!” demanded Beany anxiously.

“Why, I was going to give the General a great line of talk, and I
didn’t have a chance to do a thing but salute. He was talking to a
French officer and the minute he went out, the General just said,
‘All right to-day, young man?’ I said, ‘Yes, sir,’ and he said, ‘No
time to talk! Report in the courtyard to-morrow morning five-thirty,
field equipment, for special duty with my staff.’

“I saluted again and turned to come out, and the General said,
‘Potter, this is in the way of a reward for that little affair in
the dungeons,’ and I said, ‘Thank you, sir, but the pleasure was all
ours, sir,’ and he said, ‘No, not quite all; because some of the
papers you unearthed _WILL HELP TO TURN THE TIDE_.’ How’s that, old
Beans, _will help to turn the tide_. Gosh! you did it with your
little penknife, didn’t you?”

“Well, never mind that,” said Beany, wriggling. “Don’t you know
anything about this trip to-morrow?”

“Nary word,” said Porky, “but why should _we_ worry? Main fact is
clear, we are going to be among those present.”

The boys spent a restless day getting their traveling equipment in
order and taking it apart again to put it together in some way they
fancied would make an eighth of an inch difference in some of its
dimensions. They strutted a little perhaps. It was truly a wonderful
thing to go with General Pershing on a trip of that sort. They
marveled at their good luck.

That good luck had hinged entirely on their ability to keep their
own counsel. That desire some have to tell all they know, a lot that
they guess, and a few things that they fear, did not exist in the
Potter twins. They could keep a secret without being told to, and
that’s some test. Whatever they overheard was safe. When they saw
things that were not intended for their eyes, they ignored them, or
made an effort to forget all about them. This high sense of what was
honorable and right was noticed immediately by the General as well
as by others whom they met daily.

So they spent the long day patting each other on the back, and
wondering at their great good fortune.

They kept closely to the rooms frequented by the officers. As Porky
pointed out to his brother, there was one old lady at least who was
not wasting any love on them, and they didn’t want to give her a
chance to turn a key on them and spoil all their fun. They had at
least gained a little caution, but how very little the trip was
going to show.

It was barely five next morning when Porky and Beany, like two
shadows, slipped from their quarters and went silently down to the
courtyard. Several automobiles stood ready, heavily guarded, and a
couple of mechanics were busily tightening nuts and testing various
parts of the machinery. No one spoke. The boys crossed the open
space, and in accordance with an agreement made previously, sat down
back to back on a ledge of the broken fountain. They were taking no
risks of surprise or attack from the rear. Silently the minutes
passed. The steady tramp of the sentries and the grating of metal on
metal as the mechanics worked quietly on the cars made so little
sound that distant noises were loud and acute.

The guns of the enemy had been silent for twelve hours. Even Porky
and Beany sensed something big and terrible in the air.

“Want to bet something?” asked Porky, poking his brother with a
backhand jab in the ribs.

He never found out whether Beany was game to bet or not for the door
of the chateau opened and a group of officers came out. General
Pershing led the group. The boys leaped to salute, the sentries
stopped and presented arms. Even the mechanics straightened to their
feet. There was perfect quiet, however, and five minutes later they
started away full speed in the darkness. On and on they went,
passing first through a country which showed very little of the
effects of war. It was a sort of spur that had escaped the enemy’s
assaults in the beginning of the struggle, and which, since the
arrival of millions of Americans, had been lying too far behind the
lines to suffer.

The sun rose: it was day. They stopped in the shelter of a dense
grove and breakfasted on the provisions put up for them by the cooks
back at headquarters. While they ate the drivers of the cars watched
the clear morning skies for airplanes. The sandwiches and coffee,
boiling hot in big thermos bottles, tasted good to the hungry boys,
although they were eaten in silence, and in silence the journey was
continued. Now they commenced to see signs of the frightful
struggle. First great shell craters, then trees uprooted or hacked
down, and village after village lying a mere mass of wreckage. There
were worse things too; sad reminders that made the boys turn pale
with horror.

The stop for dinner was made the occasion of a careful examination
of all the parts of the cars, as any accident in the next few miles
might be most dangerous and disastrous. One of the aides announced
to the several groups of officers that a start would not be made
under two hours so the boys wandered about, looking at the ruined
landscape and picking up here and there sad little mementoes of
friend and foe. Buttons, scraps of jewelry, mostly cheap rings that
girls might have worn and given to their departing sweethearts.
There were dozens of crushed and stained pictures too, so many that
the boys did not bother to pick them up after the first dozen or so.
Pinned to one picture of a chubby child was a little sock. Across
the back of the picture was written, “A year old to-day. My son.
Wish I could see him.”

“Gosh,” said Beany, “I sure do hope he didn’t get his! Perhaps this
just fell out of his pocket.”

“Why didn’t he sign it?” demanded the practical Porky.

“Well, I suppose he didn’t have a hunch we would want his address,”
said Beany. “I’m going to keep this and send it back home to one of
the papers. They will be glad to copy the picture of the fat little
geezer, and p’raps it will get back to his folks.”

The boys wandered on. Coming from a country rich in magnificent old
maples and elms, the ruin, so cowardly and so ruthless, of the great
trees seemed one of the most terrible aspects of the war. Not only
were they torn by shells, but mile after mile stood dead and dying
from the effects of the gas attacks of the enemy. The gas seemed to
be as fatal to the trees as it was to human beings. Not only had the
leaves curled up and fallen, but the trunks themselves were
blackened and dead looking. It was like a country in a nightmare,
everything in the way of buildings flat on the ground, literally not
one stone left on another. The dead and dying trees, leafless and
twisted, let the sunshine down upon it all with scarce a shadow.

The boys reached the site of what had evidently once been a fine
farm. It was a total ruin. They went clambering over the loose
heaped-up stones of what had once been a fine old dwelling, and sat
down for a moment on a flat block that had made the broad and
generous doorstep.

“Gee, this must have been an old place,” said Porky. “See the way
the edge of this stone is worn--and it is granite at that.”

“Look at the size of it, too,” said Beany.

They sat studying the stone when a faint feeble wail was heard. They
looked at each other, startled.

“Aw, gee, there’s a kitten shut up some place,” said Beany, jumping
up. “Let’s find it.”

“Sure we will,” said Porky, “but we can’t take it along. I don’t
suppose General Pershing would want to add a cat to his traveling
party.”

“It sounded most dead,” said Porky. “Kitty, kitty! Here, kitty,” he
called in his most persuasive voice.

Another little cry answered him and gave them the direction. “It’s
the cellar,” said both boys together, and with one accord they
seized a couple of stout timbers and commenced to pry away part of
the wreckage in what seemed the likeliest entrance to the pitch
black hollow under the bent and broken floor timbers, on which still
rested masses of stone.

Suddenly, in response to their efforts, a huge stone, mate to the
one they had been sitting on, tipped sidewise and slowly slid down
into the darkness, followed by a shaft of light.

There was a sharp cry from below, and the boys looked at each other,
a sort of horror on each face.

“That’s no kitten!” gasped Beany.

For answer Porky slid feet first in the wake of the big stone,
landed on it, and stepped off into a gloomy chamber now feebly
lighted from above. In a moment his eyes were accustomed to the dim
light, and he stepped aside, making way for Beany, who came
helter-skeltering down behind him.

What they saw was a room that had been used as a store-room for the
farmhouse. By some trick of fate the falling walls, while they had
made a tight prison of it, had spared the most of the shelves of
provisions, and rows of preserves and tins of fruit still stood
safely in their places.

A thin, emaciated figure lay in the corner on a pile of dirt over
which a cloak had been spread. The sunken eyes fixed themselves on
the two boys, but there was no recognition in their glassy depths.
What looked like two little piles of rags were huddled close, and as
the boys came nearer, the dying woman, for it was a woman and she
was close to death, clutched them convulsively. The bundles stirred,
and a couple of small heads were raised. Two children, tousled and
covered with dirt, lifted frightened eyes and clung frantically to
the prostrate figure.

Porky crossed swiftly and dropped on his knees by the dying woman.
Very gently he slipped an arm under her heavy head and lifted her a
little on his strong young arm.

“Get a move on!” he flung at Beany, and that young man scrambled up
the pile of debris where the big stone had fallen and instantly
disappeared. Porky, left alone with the woman and the two terrified
children, who tried frantically to burrow out of sight under the
mother’s nerveless arm, could think of nothing better to do than
clasp the woman closely to him in an effort to give her some of his
own heat and vitality. She seemed already stone cold.

Almost at once Beany returned with some of the officers. They came
down and with tender hands lifted the sufferer out of the chilly
dampness of the cellar, and laid her on a pile of coats and
cushions. Some one carefully fed her a few drops of the hot coffee
still left in the thermos bottles. It was very evident, however,
that her moments were numbered.

One of the French officers in the party knelt beside her. Softly,
tenderly, pityingly, he spoke to her in her native tongue.

The weary eyes opened, and rested on his face.




                            CHAPTER III

                          A VEXING PROBLEM


The boys, who had attained a good working knowledge of the French
language, listened breathlessly. The gentle questions of the officer
were easy to follow, but without pressing too close to the sad group
they were unable to hear the whispered, broken replies of the woman.
That the story was a sad one, one of the uncounted tragedies of the
invasion of a cruel and heartless enemy, they could easily guess by
the break in the French officer’s voice and the unashamed and manly
tears that filled his eyes. Slowly, painfully she told her story,
the two tiny children clutching her closely the while. Fainter and
fainter grew the feeble voice. Porky and Beany knew instinctively
that they were standing in the presence of death; not the glorious
and gallant passing that the soldier finds on the battlefield, but
the coming of release from a long and undeserved agony. As the
little group watched, one bloodless hand reached up and drew the
thin shawl away from her breast. There was a wound there; a cruel
death wound that she had stanched as best she could and had covered
from the eyes of the two babies. As though her story was all ended,
the pitiful eyes fixed themselves on the face of the officer who
held her. Rapidly he made the sign of the cross, then with his hand
held high, he spoke to the dying woman. It was enough. A smile of
peace lighted the worn face, one long look she bent on the two
children, and turning her head as if for protection toward the blue
tunic against which she rested, she closed her eyes, sighed, and was
still.

Reverently laying down his burden, the officer rose to his feet. And
while the group stood with bared heads, he told the story as he had
just heard it.

The dead woman’s name was Marie Duval. For two hundred years her
people had lived in simple ease and comfort on the well-tilled farm.

In rapid, thrilling sentences, he sketched the story of their happy,
blameless lives, through Marie’s innocent childhood, her girlhood,
and up to the time of her meeting with young Pierre Duval. Pierre
had a good farm of his own down the valley, and there they lived in
simple happiness and prosperity. Three children were born, the two
little creatures crouching before them and one a little older, now
dead.

When the war broke out, Pierre put on his uniform and went away. For
a while, like other heroic women, she tilled the little farm until
one night when a small scouting party of Huns swept down, burning
and destroying all that lay in their path. She escaped with her
children under cover of the darkness and made her way back to her
father’s house. For a long time they escaped the tide of war, and
lived on and on from day to day, the old, old father and mother and
the young mother waiting for news from Pierre. It came at last....
He was dead.

“Then,” said the French officer, “then her heart seemed to die too,
but she knew that she must live for the sake of the little ones.
Already she could see that the agony and terror of it all was
killing the aged parents. Four sons were fighting, and one by one
they followed Pierre to death.

“Nearer and nearer came the German lines until one awful day a horde
of heartless warriors swept over them.

“Sirs, you know the rest,” said the French officer, his fine face
twitching with emotion. “It is the same old story, the old man
ruthlessly tortured and killed, his old wife kept alive just long
enough to see him die. The oldest grandchild was with her. He too
was tortured while his mother, hidden and imprisoned in a portion of
the cellar under the smoking ruins of the farmhouse, heard his
childish screams of agony.

“She tried frantically to free herself from the ruins. A soldier saw
her, brought the fainting child almost within reach of her hand and
killed him. Then with the same weapon he made a savage thrust for
her heart, but could only reach close enough to inflict a deep
wound. Then making sure that she could not escape from the cellar,
he rode away after his troop. She became unconscious, and for days
the two little children must have lived on the vegetables stored
about them. When she regained consciousness she found strength to
drag herself to the shelves where the family provisions were stored.
All that was not spoiled she fed to the children, but they were
without water save for the rainwater that dripped down upon them.
She felt herself growing steadily weaker as the untended wound grew
worse. The whole neighborhood seemed abandoned, and their feeble
cries brought no help. The children pined, and suffering as they
were from shock, soon gave way to the cold dampness and insufficient
food.

“Marie herself lived solely through her determination not to leave
the two helpless babies to their fate. She prayed that they might
die first, and she was glad to note their failing strength, so
fearful was she of leaving them alone to a horrible, lingering
death.

“She herself grew so weak that much of the time she lay almost
unconscious with the little ones huddled against her. She commenced
to see visions. Pierre came and comforted her and promised that she
should soon be free to be with him. The little martyred son clasped
her in his loving little arms, assuring her that he no longer
suffered. The old mother and father sat beside her and told her to
be brave and patient. But with all her courage she felt that her end
was near. She could not endure much longer.”

The French officer bowed his head.

“Then came deliverance,” he said softly, “deliverance from all her
pain and anguish. She has been released. She is with Pierre!”

One of the officers stepped forward and tenderly covered the still
figure with his cloak. He took the younger child in his arms, but it
screamed and struggled while the other one fought off the friendly
hands stretched down to it. The French officer spoke to them
pleadingly, but they only stared stupidly at him.

“They are almost done for,” said one of the officers. “We have got
to get them away from here and right away.” He made another effort
to take the older child but the little fellow fought with the fury
of a little wildcat. One after another tried in vain to get hold of
the terrified little fellow, who grew more and more frightened.

Porky and Beany, standing modestly in the rear of the group, watched
the proceedings with growing uneasiness. Finally Porky stepped
forwards, saluting as he did so.

“Will you please let us try?” he asked, and taking a worried nod
from the Captain for answer, he sat down beside the dead mother, and
for a long time, as it seemed to the watching group, stared idly
ahead, without so much as a glance at the trembling children.

Then he turned, nodded as though he had just noticed them, and
taking a cake of chocolate from his pocket, bit off a piece and then
broke off a small corner for each child. It was only a taste, but as
the delicious morsel melted on their tongues, they crept to Porky
like a couple of starved kittens. He showed them the rest of the
chocolate and hitched off a few feet. Beany came after. The children
followed, and Porky broke off another small bit for each. Some one
brought water from the cars for them to drink and in fifteen minutes
the thing was done. Porky and Beany, each with a little skeleton in
their arms, wandered well away from the spot where unaccustomed
hands were awkwardly digging a grave for the dead young mother.

“This,” said Porky, as the child in his arms sagged on his shoulder
and seemed to sleep, “this is the worst thing yet!”

“You bet!” said Beany dismally. “Say, did you see me cry back there?
I did!”

“Well, what of it?” demanded Porky. “Didn’t everybody? I’d like to
know how they could help it!”

“I wasn’t looking,” said Beany. “Oh, gosh, they didn’t have to do
things like this.”

“Who, the Huns?” asked his brother. “Why, it’s _all_ like this and a
million times worse!”

“Well, I wish I was grown up,” mourned Beany. “To think we can’t do
much of anything! I want to get even! I want to look some of those
fellows in the face!”

“What’s your idea? Want to tell him what you think?” Porky laughed
unpleasantly, as he shifted the weight of the child. “What’s
worrying me now is what is going to be done with these poor little
kids. Isn’t the one you have a pretty little thing? Even all the
dirt and hunger can’t hide her looks. I suppose they will have to go
into some asylum!”

“I don’t see why,” said Beany suddenly. “Do you remember Mom and Pop
said they wished if we brought them anything from across, it would
be something good and worth while? They didn’t want German helmets
and junk like that. What do you suppose they would say to a couple
of dandy little kids like these?”

“For the love of the board of health!” said his brother solemnly.
“It’s a great thought, sonny, but do you suppose Mom _wants_ to
start in bringing up another lot of children? You know if she ever
started, she would make a good job of it; you know how thorough she
always is.”

“Yes, she is thorough, all right!” grinned Mom’s son. “Look at us!”

“She did the best she could with us, anyhow,” retorted Mom’s other
son solemnly, “and I think, no, I _know_ she would be tickled to
death to do something as real and important as taking these two
little chaps to bring up. And we could help support them if we had
to, later.”

“That’s silly,” said Porky. “You know Dad has made a lot of money.
And he could afford to bring up six of them if he wanted to.”

“Well, all _he_ ever wants is what Mom wants,” said Beany.

“I guess that’s so too,” said Porky, “but perhaps some of those
officers will have some other plans for them.”

He looked down at the child on his arm. Already he felt a tenderness
for the starved, sickly little creature who had trusted him.

“One apiece,” he said, looking at Beany.

“One’s a girl, though,” said Beany.

Porky wanted to be fair.

“That’s so,” he said. “Well, we can draw straws to see which has to
take her.”

“Straws nothing!” said Beany. “She came to me, so she is mine.
Darned if I know what to do with a girl, though! Can’t teach her to
play ball or marbles, and besides that she can’t be a Boy Scout.”

“Well, she can be a girl one. You know they have ’em, and if she
can’t play ball she can learn to swim and dive and ride and shoot,
and it will be pretty handy to have her round the house when it
comes to buttons and things. Mother must get tired sewing for three
of us.”

“Wonder how long it takes ’em to grow up to button size,” said
Beany, studying the tiny bundle in his arms.

“Don’t know,” said Porky. He looked anxiously at his brother. His
generosity in accepting the care of the little girl worried him. He
had to watch Beany, who was always more than generous and
self-sacrificing.

“Why can’t we both have both kids?” he asked. “I don’t want you to
be stung with a girl all the time. It isn’t fair.”

“Stuck with a girl!” said Beany. “Why, Porky, I _like_ it! I never
could see why when any one has a baby, everybody says, ‘Gee, it’s a
boy! Isn’t that bully?’ or else ‘Huh, it’s a girl, too bad!’ I never
could see it. Course when they get _our_ size they mostly are silly
pills, but if _I_ have a hand in bringing up _this_ girl, why, you
just watch her, that’s all! I bet when she’s fifteen she won’t look
cross-eyed at a boy. I bet she knocks their blocks off! She is going
to have some sense!”

“Looks as though you mean to make a scrapper of her,” laughed Porky.

“No, she has got to grow up just as much like Mom as she can.”

“Well, Mom likes boys all right,” was Porky’s reminder.

“Yes, but I bet when she was young she never googled at ’em or
passed notes or accidentally sat down in the same seat with them or
any of that. She isn’t that kind. You can _see_ she isn’t.” And
Beany, whose wavy hair and clear blue eyes had already caused him to
suffer, nodded his head vigorously.

“Go ahead!” said Porky, “I think it’s great having an assortment,
only I didn’t want you to feel as though you had the worst end of
the bargain.”

“Not a bit of it!” said Beany. “Not a bit, and I’ll lend you my girl
to look at or play with whenever you want.”

“Much obliged,” said Porky, “but I can’t help thinking it might be a
good plan to break the news to somebody.”

“Your kidlet is asleep, so he won’t notice. Suppose you go back
there and see what they are doing.”

“I can see from here,” said Porky with a slight shudder. “They are
sort of boarding up a place to put the youngster’s mother. They have
no way of getting a casket or even a box for her.”

“It will be fixed all right,” said Beany. “The Captain does
everything all right. He will fix it just as well as ever he can.
I’d like to go over and see just what they are doing.”

“Better not; you might wake the baby, and we don’t want her to see
her mother again.”

“Well, anyhow, one thing is settled. The pair is ours,” said Porky
with a sigh.

“They are ours if we can have them,” said his brother.

“You watch me!” said Porky grimly.




                             CHAPTER IV

                         DECIDING DESTINIES


Tired of carrying the children about, the two boys sat down on a
bench beside what had once been a large barn. The destructive fire
started by the invaders had apparently been checked by a heavy
rainfall as the half burned structures and charred timbers
testified. There was still a chance to rebuild and save enough from
the wreckage to enable the owners to start their lives afresh. But
alas, of those owners but two were left--the two tiny, terrified,
war-racked creatures in the arms of the two Boy Scouts. While their
little charges slept, the boys continued their talk in a low tone.
Their arms, unaccustomed to such burdens, were tired and stiff by
the time one of the officers left the distant group and approached
them.

“Why don’t you lay the poor little cubs down somewhere?” he asked,
looking round vainly for a fit place.

“No place to put ’em, sir,” said Porky, “and every time we start to
move them, they clutch us and start to scream. As long as we sort of
keep ’em hugged up tight, they sleep.”

“It’s awful--awful!” said the officer. “I wish I knew what to do with
them now. There’s not an asylum of any sort, not a place fit to
leave them within miles and miles, and what’s to become of them _I_
don’t know. Every orphan asylum in France is crowded.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” said Porky. “We don’t intend they shall go
to any asylum. Our mother has adopted them.”

“Your what?” asked the captain after a prolonged stare.

“Our mother,” repeated Porky.

“Your mother has _WHAT_?” said the captain. “Just repeat it all.”

“Our mother has adopted them,” said Porky patiently and distinctly.
The captain pushed back his cap and stared.

“Where is your mother?” he asked.

“Home,” said Porky.

“New York state,” added Beany. “She wanted something to remember the
war by, so we are going to take her these. She didn’t want any
German helmets or anything of that sort. She said she didn’t want
ever to be reminded of helmets, so we will take her these instead.”

“But, good heavens!” said the officer. “You ought not do anything
like that! She would have to bring them up.”

“That’s all right, too,” said Porky. “Mom has had experience. She
has had us, and one of these is a girl. Girls ought to be easier
than boys.”

“No, she won’t mind and, anyhow, we are going to do all the hard
work ourselves. Teaching them swimming and baseball and all that.”

“The girl will like that,” said the officer dryly.

“Course she will!” said Beany, looking proudly down at the future
baseballess.

“It’s like this,” said Porky. “Our people always trust us, and we
know it will be all right. I do hope you can fix it for us,
Captain.”

“It would be a wonderful thing for those poor little orphans,” mused
the Captain. “But how would you get them home?”

“That’s easy,” said Porky. “Our time is up pretty soon. You see we
were only allowed a limited stay. That was the agreement when we
came, and we can take the kids over with us. Won’t you _please_ get
General Pershing to fix it up for us? There will be some woman on
board to tell us what they ought to eat, and when to put ’em to bed
and all that.”

“It would be a wonderful thing,” said the Captain again. “If you are
sure about your mother. It’s a good deal to wish off on her.”

“Feel in my left pocket,” said Porky. “Feel that letter? Now take it
out and read it. It’s all right. She wouldn’t mind, and I’m proud of
mother’s letters.”

The Captain drew out the letter which was much thumbed and soiled,
and read:

    “_My own dear boys_:

    “It was good to hear from you both again after the long
    time between letters. A whole month, in which we
    received not so much as a post card. But something told
    me that you were safe and well, so I did not worry. You
    know, dears, I am not the worrying kind when it comes to
    that. Your dad, who boasts continually that he never
    worries over _any_thing, does all the fussing for the
    whole family, but as long as he doesn’t know it, and we
    never tell him, why, I suppose it is all right.

    “I wrote you a long letter yesterday, telling you all
    the news of the neighborhood, and this is only a note to
    acknowledge your letter at once because in my letter I
    said that we had not heard in a long time.

    “Well, dears, it will not be very many weeks now before
    we will hope to see our boys again. I am counting the
    very days. I wonder what souvenir of the war you will
    bring me. It will be something I will love to have, I
    know, and not a horrid helmet or anything of that sort.
    Of course the thing I would like best you can’t possibly
    bring me, and that is a house full of those poor pitiful
    little Belgian refugees. When I think of our big house,
    this splendid home we have built since you went away,
    when I think that soon it will be finished, and we will
    be in it, just we four, I can scarcely bear it. So
    _many_ little children homeless!

    “Well, some day, boys, we must manage to do something
    for some of those suffering little ones. I know of no
    other way in which to thank God for our two boys and our
    many, many blessings. Your father is prospering more and
    more in his business, and we both feel that we must all
    four unite in doing for those less fortunate than we.

    “However, I know I can’t hope for a couple of Belgians
    just at present. After the war, we will go and collect a
    few!

    “Take care of yourselves always for the sake of the two
    who love you so well.

    “Your always loving
                                                  “Mother.”

“Well, I declare!” said the Captain as he finished the clearly
written page.

“Doesn’t that about fix it?” asked Porky triumphantly. “Of course
these are French, but I guess she won’t mind that. They couldn’t be
worse off in the way of parents or more destitute, no matter _what_
they were.”

“Mother will be in her glory,” Beany cut in. “I hope they don’t get
fat before we get them home.”

“I should say not! The thinner, the better as far as mother is
concerned. She snaked a private right out of the camp hospital last
summer and took him home. He had had pneumonia and looked like a
sick sparrow. Mother fed him and nursed him and he gained seventeen
pounds in three weeks.”

“Well, it does beat all!” said the Captain. “Of course, you
understand there may be some reason that will make it impossible for
you to take these children out of the country.”

“All I can say is, there hadn’t _better_ be,” said Porky, thrusting
out his square jaw. “Think I want to give up my kid after it came to
me and I lugged it around for an hour?”

“And do you suppose I want anybody but mother and me to bring up
this girl?” said Beany, awkwardly hugging the sleeping mite in his
arms closer.

“Besides,” said Porky, “what about mother? It’s up to us to bring
her what she likes best, and you read that letter. What she wants is
_orphans_, and she’s _got_ to _have_ ’em if we _steal_ ’em! So long
as we are around, mother has got to have what she wants.”

“I should think that nearly settled it,” said the officer. He
laughed but there was a queer gleam in his eyes that looked
suspiciously like tears. “I am going to report this to the General
now,” he said. “Of course we cannot take the children with us, and
some way must be found of sending them back to headquarters. I don’t
see just how it is to be done, as it would be a pity to make you go
back with them when this trip is only beginning and will be a
wonderful thing for you.”

“No, we hate to lose the trip,” said Porky wistfully. “I don’t
suppose two other Boy Scouts in the whole world ever had such a
chance and we sort of earned it.”

“Stay here,” said the Captain, “and I will be back presently.”

He walked away, and the two boys, holding the two children, sat
quietly on the old bench planning in low tones for the future.

“This girl is going to be a peach,” said Beany proudly. “See the way
her hair crinkles up? She is rank dirty, but you wait till mother
gets her cleaned up.”

“My word!” said Porky. “She’s got to be washed before _that_! Why,
they have to have a bath right off as soon as we get hold of a nurse
or some woman who understands enough about kids to do it.”

“Yes, it’s an awful job,” said Beany. “All the soap gets in their
eyes and nose, and there’s the mischief to pay. And I want an expert
to wash this kid. It makes their eyes red to get soap in ’em, and I
don’t want hers spoiled.”

“Wonder what their names are,” said Porky.

“Oh, they are named all right. I suppose we didn’t get ’em soon
enough to attend to that, but we can call ’em what we like. Don’t
you know how it is with a registered dog? Don’t you remember the two
collies Skippy Fields has, one named Knocklayde King Ben and the
other Nut Brown Maiden, and Skippy’s folks called ’em Benny and
Nutty. I bet they each have about thirteen names apiece, but while
I’m bringing her up, this girl’s going to be called Peggy.”

“And this is Bill,” said Porky without the least hesitation. “Bill.
Just _Bill_ so you can yell at him good and easy.”

They went on planning while behind them, over the soft, uneven
ground the staff approached unheard and stood watching the little
group.

Presently, still unheard and unnoticed by the boys, they turned
away.

“And there are those,” said General Pershing solemnly, “who do not
believe that a special Providence watches over children! The boys
_shall_ take those two orphans home to that good mother of theirs,
if it takes an Act of Congress. You say,” he continued, talking to
the French officer in his own musical tongue, “you say that poor
woman said that all her people were gone?”

“All dead, all lost in this war,” answered the Frenchman.

“Well, if this was only in a movie show,” said the great General,
“we would presently see a car headed for the rear, coming around
that bend ahead, and we would be able to--well, I declare,” he
exclaimed, as one of the officers laughed and pointed. “That’s
positively _too_ much!” as the group laughed with him.

A large car _was_ coming along around the bend, it _was_ headed for
the rear, and in the tonneau sat a couple of nurses in their snug
caps and dark capes!

The General himself halted it, and in a few words explained the
situation. A couple of the officers, accompanied by the nurses, went
over to the boys and at once the children, still sleeping the heavy
sleep of exhaustion, were transferred to arms more accustomed to
holding them, and carried back to the car. Almost before they
realized it, the car was off and Porky turned to the General,
saluting.

“Out with it, young man,” said the kindly General, smiling down into
the eager and troubled face.

“We will get ’em back, won’t we, sir?” he asked. “They can’t work
some game on us, so we will lose ’em!”

“We lost a pup that way once,” said Beany dolefully, also coming to
salute.

“Well, you won’t lose your orphans,” the General promised. “I wish I
could see your mother’s face when your little party appears.”

“Why, we will write you what she says if you will let us, sir,”
Porky volunteered.

“She will be crazy over Bill and Peggy,” added Beany, looking fondly
after the car vanishing with their new possessions.

“Beel ant Pekky!” groaned the Frenchman.

“Wee, Mussoo, we have named them already,” said Porky proudly. “We
know they have some other names, kind of names, they were registered
under, but that kid has to have _something_ easy to yell at him when
he makes a home run, and Beany picked on Peggy right off.”

“That about settles it,” laughed the General. “We must be off if we
reach our first sector by nightfall.”




                             CHAPTER V

                       WHISPERS IN THE NIGHT


It was nine o’clock when they reached the first post of observation
in their journey, an outpost on the top of a densely wooded hill
where they were to remain as long as the General wished to stay. It
was a splendid post of observation. A vast battle-torn valley
stretched below them for miles and miles. From their vantage point
they could see it brilliantly lighted at short intervals by the
flares of the enemy. The flares lit the trenches--black, ragged
gashes running along the earth--and beyond, where the awful
desolation of No-Man’s-Land stretched, peopled only with its dead.
Seen with field glasses, the plain drew near and they could see the
torn surface and the tumbled groups here and there. A great battle
had been fought and both sides were resting. Rest was absolutely
necessary. The Allies had advanced three miles, pushing back a foe
that stubbornly contested every step of the way. The Germans had
brought vast numbers of reserves into action but even then the
whirlwind tactics and savage rushes of their oversea foe had driven
them back rod by rod.

Porky and Beany looked on and trembled with excitement. There ahead,
hidden in the darkness, were the Huns. There were the barbarians who
had shown a civilized world how men can slip back into worse than
savagery. Wasted lands, ruined homes, orphaned and mutilated little
children, butchered old people. All the unspeakable horrors of war
trooped through the boys’ minds, a hideous train of ghosts, as they
looked across the valley. Ahead lay the heartless and ruthless
killers, wolves that had come to worry and tear the sheep, but
behind in the darkness, the boys knew with a thrill, every possible
mode of transportation was swiftly bringing up the reserve American
troops, thousands and thousands of them; men in their prime and
beardless boys grim, determined, yet light-hearted, ready to fight
as only Americans can fight. Men from the farms, farms in the east
where fifty well-tilled acres was a fine homestead; farmers from
that great and spacious west where a man called miles of land his
own. Professional men, clerks, divinity students, adventurers, all
welded by this great need into a common likeness. Eager for life,
yet fearlessly ready to die if need be, a mighty army was on its
way, was drawing nearer and nearer to the tired troops below.
Overhead an adventurous plane or two hummed in the darkness.

“And we can’t help!” said Porky mournfully. “Not a thing we can do,
not a thing!”

“Oh, well, we are doing all we can,” said Beany. “I don’t just see
what _more_ we can do. We can’t help our age.”

“No, but if we are not told just _where_ to stay, and _where_ to go,
I mean to take a little stroll around to-night,” said Porky.

The boys went over to the General, who stood looking across the
valley and saluted. He looked, and gravely returned the salute.

“Good-night, boys,” he said.

“Good-night, sir,” said the boys, and then as an afterthought, “May
we walk around a bit, sir?”

The General was busy studying the vast field below him as the
flashes of light revealed it.

“Yes, if you don’t get lost,” he said absently, “and be on hand at
eight to-morrow morning. I may be ready to go on then.”

“Yes, sir,” said both boys cheerfully. What luck! The General
certainly didn’t know what he was getting himself into.

“The whole night to ourselves, and no bounds, and only we mustn’t
get lost!” chuckled Porky.

“Peach pie!” murmured Beany. “Let’s be off! Where will we go first?”

“Down there,” said Porky, waving a hand widely over the valley.

“That’s where I thought. But we can’t get into any scrape on account
of the General. You know he wasn’t thinking about us at all when he
spoke, and, besides, there would be an _awful_ fuss if we got into
any trouble. It would be good-by to our little trip. We would be
sent back quicker than they sent Bill and Peggy.”

“Who wants to get into any scrape?” said Porky. “All I want to do is
to see--to see--well, to see just what I _can_ do.”

“Well, come on,” said Beany mournfully. “I bet we are in for some
fun, because when we look for things we generally find ’em.”

“What hurts me,” said Porky, “is not carrying weapons of any sort.
It’s a good safe rule for the Boy Scouts, but I’d be glad of some
little thing like a sling shot or a putty blower.”

“I don’t need anything,” said Beany, “I’ve got the neatest thing you
ever _did_ see.” Quite suddenly he drew something from his hip
pocket and shoved it under his brother’s nose. Porky sidestepped.

“Ha!” said Beany. “It works!” He showed Porky his weapon. It was a
monkey wrench from the auto tool chest. In his hand it looked like a
revolver.

“Pretty neat,” said Porky. “Is there another one in the box?”

“Yes, I saw another,” said Beany. “I don’t see any harm in this. Any
one might carry a monkey wrench,” and replaced it carefully in his
pocket.

“Sure thing,” said Porky, making for the car, followed by his
brother. “Didn’t the Reverend Hannibal Butts get up to preach one
Sunday, and dig for a clean handky to wipe his face with and come up
with a bunch of waste and use it before he saw what he was doing?”

“I remember that,” said Beany. “I thought I’d die! And so did
everybody else. It ’most broke up the meeting.”

“Well, when you flashed that monkey wrench I thought it was a
revolver sure enough. But it was only an innocent little wrench, and
here is the mate to it!” He pocketed the tool, and slipping
cautiously out of sight of the group of officers, they went
scrambling noiselessly down the steep trail into the valley.
Reaching the foot of the hill, they struck cautiously out toward the
entanglements, dropping on their faces whenever a flare went up.
Presently Beany, a little in the rear, pulled his brother’s leg.
Porky stopped, and waited for Beany to wriggle up. He muttered,
“What?” but did not turn his face. He knew too well that a face
turned upwards in the darkness can be seen by an observant watcher
overhead in some prowling plane.

“Men whispering over toward the right,” said Beany of the marvelous
ears.

“No business for any one to be there,” said Porky, listening
intently. “We are well on our side yet.”

“It’s over there on that little hillock,” said Beany positively,
“and I think they are whispering in German.”

“Why, they _can’t_ be, Bean,” said Porky. “We are away inside our
lines, and we wouldn’t have men out there and, besides, they
wouldn’t be whispering German or anything else. When our men are
supposed to keep still, they _keep still_!”

“I can’t help it,” said Beany. “They are whispering in German.”

“All right,” said Porky, reluctantly turning toward the spot
indicated by Beany. “We’ll go over and see what it is, and if there
are any Germans holed up around here, we’ll sick on a few troops.”

They did not stand up again, but slowly and with the greatest
caution approached a small hillock that stood slightly away from the
steeper hills. It was not wooded enough to afford any shelter, nor
was it high enough to be a good spot for a gun. For that or for some
other reason, the enemy had failed to shell it.

On the side toward the Allies a pile of high boulders was tumbled.
The rest was grass grown. Beany, whispering softly in his brother’s
ear, insisted that the voices came from this place.

“Then they are underground,” whispered Porky in his turn.

Slowly, ever so slowly they crept up to the little hill and lay in
the darkness, listening. Certainly through the grass and stones of
the mound came the muffled sound of cautious voices. If they had
been speaking English, it is probable that even Beany’s wizard ears
would not have caught the sound. But the harsh guttural German, even
when whispered, seemed to carry far.

“I don’t see how you heard ’em,” breathed Porky. “It’s hard enough
to believe now. What do you suppose it all means?”

“Search me!” Beany breathed in return.

“What they doing over on our side?” wondered Porky.

“It’s a good place all right,” said Beany against his brother’s ear
as they lay close to the grass.

They were silent for a while, when the unbelievable happened. It was
so amazing, so stunning, that both boys at first could not believe
that they heard aright. They heard a sound like a windlass or crank
turning, a few clods tumbled down on them, and a voice once more
whispered hoarsely three words:

“Gee, it’s hot!”

“_Gee, it’s hot!_” said the German voice and the simple words seemed
to the astounded boys to ring across the valley! On the contrary,
they were spoken in a low whisper.

Another voice replied. “He won’t like it if you speak English, you
know.”

“I can’t help it,” said the first speaker. “We are two to one
anyhow, and I am tired of talking that lingo. I’m a good German all
right, but I wasn’t brought up to _speak_ German and it comes hard.
And this is the hottest place I ever did get in. I don’t like it. Do
you know what will happen about to-morrow? I’ll tell you. We will
find ourselves miles behind the Allies’ lines, and then what do you
propose to do, Peter?”

“Bosh!” said the man called Peter. “You think because a handful of
Americans are here that the tide has turned. Be careful what you
think. I tell you _no_. What can a few hundred of these fellows do
against the perfect, trained millions of the Fatherland?”

“You don’t know them,” said Fritz.

“Yes, I do,” said the man Peter. “Now let me tell you. For years I
was in England; sent there to study those foolish bull-headed people
and to create all the unrest I could. It was _so_ easy. I saw these
Americans there, crazy, loud-mouthed, boasting, always boasting.
They talked fight, they told wild tales about the bad men of their
west, always boasting. So I tried them. I am a big man, Fritz, and
strong; I was not afraid of a little fight, me, myself. I tried
them. I slurred their government, sneered at their president,
laughed at their institutions. What think you? They laughed. They
_laughed_! Quite as if I said the most kindly things. I said, ‘What
I say is true, is it not?’ and they said, ‘Perhaps, but it is so
funny!’ That is what they said, ‘_so funny_!’ They should have slain
me where I stood.”

“They don’t care what you say or what the rest of the world says,”
whispered Fritz. “They are too big. Their country is too big. When
they fight.... Wait until you have seen them fight! They fight with
grunts and gasps and bared teeth. They do not need trenches, they
will go over the top with a shout. You will see, friend Peter. They
are back there in the darkness now. I feel them!”

“A few of them, only a few,” said Peter. “This little castle of sod
and stone is getting on your nerves, my friend. Look you! Do you
think the Highest would deceive us? Never, never! There is nothing
to this talk of the Americans coming over here. To be sure, they
have declared war, but what of it? They are no good. They have no
army. All their boasted possessions, all their harbors, all their
wealth, yet they have no army. No army! That shows how inefficient
they are. Never fear, my Fritz. Not a hundred thousand will reach
this soil. I have it from our commanding officer himself.”

“Then here’s hoping for a quick release from this hole,” said Fritz
bitterly.

“To-morrow,” said Peter; “to-morrow our hosts will sweep across this
valley, and we will be with our own again.”

“Oh, I hope for some release. It’s the hardest duty I have ever been
given.”

“But think how we have been able to guide our guns, talking as we
can to the airplanes through the clever arrangement of our three
little trees on top of our delightful little hill.” He laughed. “How
clever it all is! And no one will ever suspect!” He paused again to
chuckle, and Porky quite suddenly shoved a sharp elbow into Beany’s
ribs.

“Well, I’m sick of it,” said Fritz still in his low, hoarse whisper,
and seemed to move away from the side of the hill where he had been
standing.

The boys with the greatest caution wriggled away.

“Now what do you think of _that_?” said Porky when they were in a
position where they could talk in safety. “_What do you think of
that?_”

“Anyhow,” said Beany, “they aren’t spies. I’m sort of fed up on
spies. I can stand for most anything else.”

“No, they are not spies. I can’t make out just what their little
game is. It’s important, though; you can see that. And we have got
to stop it somehow.”

“That ought to be easy enough. Just go back and get the bunch and a
few soldiers, and take ’em.”

“What’s the time, anyhow?” asked Porky. He answered his own question
by fishing his wrist watch out of his pocket. He had put it there
for fear the luminous dial might be seen.

“Only eleven,” he said. “Plenty of time.” He sat staring into the
darkness. There were very few flares now, although the night was
usually kept bright with them.

“Wonder why that is,” Porky said.

“Something to do with our little mud house, don’t you think so?”
said Beany.

“Yes, I do,” answered his brother. “I wish I could make it out. Give
us time, give us time!”

“Well, come on! I want to get some one on the job,” said Beany. “I
feel fidgety.”

“Sit still,” said Porky. “I want to think.”

“What you got in your head now?” said Beany. His voice sounded
anxious.

“We are going to take those men prisoners with our own little
wrenches and just by our two selves.”

“Three of them?” gasped Beany.

“Three of them!” said Porky. “Come on!”




                             CHAPTER VI

                       TAKING THREE PRISONERS


“Come nothing!” said Beany slangily. “You stay right here until we
can talk this thing over, and make some sort of a plan. I don’t
propose to go into something we can’t get out of.”

“Well,” said Porky, “the only plan I have is so crazy that I’m sort
of afraid to tell you about it. But it would certainly be sort of
nifty to take those men ourselves instead of running back to the
bunch for help. It would kind of put a little gilt on things and
would be something to tell Bill and Peggy about when they grow up a
little.”

Beany was impressed. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he said. “Looks
like we haven’t much to tell them about, nothing but the submarine
and the secret passage and that sort of thing.”

“And the spies back home,” added Porky. “No, we ought to wind up
with something else. Beside, if I don’t get hold of a Hun or two
after what we saw and heard back at the Duval farm, I don’t think
I’ll ever live.”

“Well, I’m with you,” agreed Beany. “Now let’s plan. We sure have
got to get a prisoner or two our own selves. What’s next?”

For twenty minutes the boys, heads close together, whispered
rapidly. Then they rose and went noiselessly toward the false
hillock.

The last hundred yards they crept, lying flat and motionless
whenever a flare lit the sky. They were not frequent, however, and
the boys made good progress. When they reached the mound, Porky, who
was the best climber, crept to the top. He used the most infinite
caution, and there was not a sound to betray his slow, sure
progress. Gaining the top, he found what he had expected to find. A
sodded opening, like a double trap door, operated from the inside,
was slightly opened for air. So cleverly was it arranged with small
bushes and grass growing on the trap doors, that it would have been
impossible to detect it. Porky felt cautiously about the edges. Then
he listened. From below came an unmistakable sound--the noise of a
couple of men snoring. The sound was so muffled by the thick steel
walls, the earth and stones and sod outside them, that they were
able to sleep without fear of detection. Porky shook his head
admiringly. He was forced to acknowledge that the ingenuity of the
foe seemed to know no bounds. Again he tried the trap doors. They
were balanced to a hair and moved upward at his touch. He felt in
his pocket, arranged something in either hand, then swung the doors
both upward.

It would be untrue to say that a flash of doubt did not pass over
the reckless boy at that instant. He thought of the General and of
the way in which that great man trusted them to do their part in
keeping out of trouble. He had surmised that there were three men
below. There was room for a dozen. He had taken it for granted that
he and Beany could pull off a stunt that instead might end in their
immediate death or worse. But there he was, perched on the top, the
heavy trap doors swinging wide, and below in the dense darkness the
sound of men snoring. Porky took time to listen. There were snores
from two, that was clear, and still another man talked and muttered
fretfully in his sleep. Porky could hear no others.

He took a long breath, leaned over the opening, and turned a
flashlight below.

As though electrified, three big men sat up and blinked in the glare
of the flashlight.

Two of the men cried, “Kamarad!” and instantly held up their hands.
The third said calmly, “Thank the Lord! I surrender!” and stood up.

“Not so fast!” said Porky in his deepest tones. He fiddled with the
button on his flashlight. The light wavered. Porky kept his face to
the men and called back over his shoulder:

“Sergeant, something’s wrong with my flash. Send up another!”

“Yes, sir!” answered Beany as gruffly as possible from below. He
waited a moment, then scrambling up passed his flash to his brother.
Porky put his in his pocket, and bent the light on the men below. An
ax stood in one corner with a coil of rope. In another corner was a
rough table loaded with strange instruments that Porky did not
understand.

“Turn out your pockets!” he commanded, and three revolvers were
tossed up, one after the other.

“See that rope?” demanded Porky, pointing his flash directly at the
man who had spoken English. “You tell those other fellows to tie you
up quick, and tell them to make a good job of it!”

“I surrender,” said the man Fritz. “Please don’t tie me up, sir!”

“You hear!” said Porky grimly. He called back over his shoulder.
“Forward ten paces, Sergeant!”

“Yes, sir,” said Beany, and Porky almost giggled as he heard his
brother scuffling violently around trying to sound like a squad. But
he dared not look away from the men below, who were hastily tying up
the man called Fritz. They did a good job, eager to make good with
the unseen and most unexpected captors. If the officer above with
the boyish voice wanted Fritz tied up, tied up he would be so he
could not move. When they finished, the bulky form looked like a
mummy.

“Is that a door in the side?” Porky demanded of Fritz.

“Yes, sir,” said Fritz.

Porky waited a little. The worst was coming now.

“Tell those men to open that door, and step outside, and if they
value their lives, to keep their hands up.”

Fritz spoke rapidly in German. What he said was, “These are
Americans, you fools! The officer says to step outside, and keep
your hands up. You had better do it, if you want to live. They would
rather shoot than eat. I know them! Obey, no matter what they tell
you.”

When he had finished, one of the men, lowering one hand and keeping
the other well up in the air, pressed a long lever and a narrow door
opened, dislodging a little shower of stones and earth as it moved
outward.

“Vorwarts zwei!” cried Porky, making a wild stab at German.

It was understood however. Fear makes men quick, and the two walked
briskly out and stood side by side. One of them had stepped through
a loop of the rope, and it came trailing after him.

“Tie those men’s hands and tie them together, Sergeant,” said Porky.
He watched, cold with a fright he would never have felt for himself,
while Beany, keeping as much out of the light as possible, tied the
men, and sawed off the end of the rope.

“Close the door!” demanded Porky.

Beany did so.

“Don’t leave me here, sir,” cried the man below suddenly. “If the
Germans find that we have allowed this spot to be discovered, they
will shoot me. If the enemy comes I shall be shot. I will come
quietly. I am glad to surrender.”

“That’s all right,” growled Porky. “You are safe for a while. I am
leaving a guard here. We want a few English-speaking prisoners, so
you are quite safe for a while.”

“One of those men outside speaks English also,” cried Fritz.

“All right,” said Porky. “I advise you to keep still. Sergeant,
detail a guard for this place with orders to shoot him at the first
outcry.”

“Yes, sir,” said Beany. He retreated under cover of the darkness,
thoughtfully going around the corner of the mound as a flare
brightened the sky, and he remembered, in the nick of time, that it
wouldn’t do to let the two men, carefully bound as they were, see
him roaring directions at an imaginary squad. He returned in a
minute and saluted, although his form was only a darker shadow in
the darkness of the night.

Above, Porky closed the trap doors, and as he did so, cut the ropes
by which they were opened and closed. Not even with his teeth could
the trussed up prisoner below open them.

Beany had already shut the door in the side and wedged it with a
broken piece of gun-carriage.

“Come with me, Sergeant,” said Porky, for the benefit of the
English-speaking prisoner. “Vorwarts!”

It was a strange group that gave the password a half hour later and
advanced to the General’s tent. The tent, hidden from observation by
blankets and thick masses of boughs, was brightly lighted. General
Pershing seemed to scorn sleep. Surrounded by his staff and a group
of officers from the lines below, he sat puzzling over the reports
they had made. Information was steadily leaking across. Every move
they made was reported correctly. Only that very night as soon as it
was definitely decided that no attack would be made, the flares from
the enemy’s lines almost ceased and their guns were silenced, as
though they were glad to be assured of a few hours of peace. The
positions of the American guns, no matter how cleverly camouflaged,
were speedily discovered and gun fire trained on them.

The thing had assumed a very serious look. Losses were piling up.
The General listened in worried and puzzled silence.

It was at this moment that the flap of the tent was suddenly opened,
and two Germans, their hands tightly bound, stumbled blinkingly into
the light. Behind them stood the two boys. There was a moment of
surprised silence broken by the older prisoner, as he accustomed his
eyes to the light. He glanced about the group, then his eyes rested
curiously on his captors.

A look of fury and amazement crossed his face.

“Kinder, kleine kinder!” he muttered scornfully.

The other man was silent.

General Pershing gave a sigh.

“Those twins again!” he said. The boys saluted. “Where shall we
leave these, sir?” said Porky respectfully. “We left another back
there.” He waved into space. _Back there_ might have been anywhere
on the continent, as far as his direction showed. “It’s sort of a
queer place, sir, and we would like some one to see it, because we
can’t tell what it’s all for, and we don’t know that we could make
the other fellow tell. He speaks English.”

Rapidly the General gave the necessary orders. The two men were led
off a short distance and placed under close guard. An escort, with a
couple of captains and an expert electrician, was named for the
boys, and without a question from the General, who knew how to bide
his time, the little party filed out of the tent and went back down
the trail.

When they were out of hearing, the General laughed and spoke.

“I often wonder,” he said, “how those two boys pass the time in
their own home. I don’t mind trying to run an army, but running
those twins is a bigger task than I like to tackle. I am glad they
don’t know just how glad I will be to hear the story they will tell
us when they get the job finished. Three prisoners, and they want an
escort of officers and an electrician! Well, they are on the trail
of something, I’ll be bound! I would like to question those
prisoners but I won’t spoil the boys’ innocent pleasure in what they
are doing. But I _must_ say that I want one of you to keep an eye on
them every second now until we return to headquarters. They are to
be shipped home from there with a special passport, and I will be
able to sleep better.”

“They came with General Bright, did they not?” asked a Captain.

“Yes, and when he was called to Paris, I foolishly offered to let
them stay at headquarters. I thought they would play around and kill
time until Bright came back. That’s what I get for overlooking their
records. Things are bound to happen wherever they go.”

“All boys are like that more or less, but this is a lively pair,”
said the Captain. “They seem to want to know everything. They are
studying all my books on the French and English guns now, and I
heard one of them say the other day that he had some good ideas on
airplanes.”

“I hope he takes them home then,” said the General. “They are good
youngsters, and I’ll be glad to get a receipt from their parents for
them. They are perfectly obedient, and strict as any old regular
about discipline, but no matter _what_ good care we try to take of
them, they are always getting into tight places.”

“Their coming over here seems a strange thing,” said one of the
officers. “Sort of irregular.”

“There _is_ a reason,” said the General. “They don’t know it
themselves. They were sent across because it seemed a good thing to
have a boy’s point of view for the boys over there of things over
here. When I say they were sent, I do not mean that their expenses
were paid. The Potters are amply able to spend money, but it was a
good and patriotic thing for them to risk the lives of a fine pair
like Porky and Beany. I don’t even know their real names. Not that
it matters. They would make themselves felt if they were called
Percy and Willie. They are that sort.”

Talk drifted to other things and time passed until a stir and
footsteps outside made it evident that the expedition had returned.
The door flap opened and the party filed in, the remaining prisoner
in their midst.

The General glanced at him, then bent a steady, steely look on the
man’s face.

“You!” he said. “A German prisoner, you--”

The man’s face lighted.

He stood erect and made an effort to salute with his bound hands.

“Yes, sir,” he said in a low tone. “If I’m to be shot, sir, won’t
you let me tell you how it all happened?”

The General glanced at his wrist watch.

“It is three o’clock,” he said. He nodded toward the sergeant. “Take
this man in charge. To-morrow at seven o’clock bring him to my tent
and I will talk with him.”

He turned away and did not glance again at the prisoner as he was
led away.

“He knew you,” said a Captain.

“He worked for me four years on my apple ranch in Oregon. The
foreman wrote me that he and seven others had left suddenly soon
after the beginning of the war. I think we will get some very
interesting information out of that young man. In the meantime,” he
turned to the two boys standing as stiffly at attention as their
fagged out bodies would permit, “in the meantime, boys, can you tell
your little story in half an hour? It is very late, and we have a
hard day before us to-morrow.”

“It won’t take that long,” said Porky. “We just went down a little
ways, inside our own lines, General, so you wouldn’t worry, and
Beany, he hears things just like a cat, and there was a little hill,
with these men inside, and I climbed on top and talked to them
through the trap door, and Beany made believe he was a squad.”

“And Porky had two of ’em tie up that Fritz fellow,” interrupted
Beany, “and made ’em come out the door, and we just made ’em think
the squad was guarding the hill, and we brought ’em up here, and
they came too easy. And we didn’t try to carry arms, General, we
just had a couple of monkey wrenches, and say, Porky, I’ve lost
mine! That chauffeur will murder me!”

“A few details missing, however,” said the General. “However, that
will do for to-night. In the morning, if you like, you may be
present when I see the prisoner. Good-night!”




                            CHAPTER VII

                        THE PRISONER’S STORY


Some three minutes later (so the boys thought), some one shook them
awake. It was morning.

“Six o’clock!” said their tormentor, prodding them viciously. It was
the driver of their car. “Say, did youse have my monkey wrench?” he
demanded of both boys.

“Sure!” said Porky quickly. “Here it is!” He handed out his wrench,
while Beany tried to pretend to sleep again. The chauffeur looked it
over.

“Naw, that ain’t me wrench,” he declared. “Same size and shape but
it ain’t me wrench!”

“Why not?” asked Porky. “One of us took your wrench last night, and
if this is the same size and shape, _why_ isn’t it the same wrench?”

“Because it ain’t,” said the man. “That ain’t got the same feel as
my wrench. You can’t wish off any strange wrench on this guy! I
gotta have me own wrench! If General Pershing is goin’ to let youse
kids go stealin’ wrenches, I’ll--I’ll--well, you’ll _see_ what I’ll
do, discipline ner no discipline!” He glared at the boys and at the
unoffending wrench.

Beany sadly allowed himself to wake up.

“I had your old wrench,” he said, “and I guess I lost it. I will buy
you a new one if I can’t find it.”

“You find it!” said the man. “I don’t want no new one! I know the
feel of me own tools, and no others need apply!”

He went off grumbling, and the boys, now wide awake, watched him.

“I told you how it would be,” groaned Beany. “He’ll never let up on
me. Wonder where I could have dropped it. In No-Man’s-Land probably,
where it would be as easy to find as a needle in a haystack, and
where we can’t go anyhow, now it’s light. Look there! Oh praise be,
I believe _he_ has found it himself!”

It was so. The man suddenly pounced on an object lying on the
ground, took it up, examined it with a tenderer care than would
usually be bestowed on a tool, and with a scornful look turned and
waved it at the watching boys. “Got it!” he called.

“Good!” said Beany affably.

“No thanks to you!” called the chauffeur. He stalked away.

“I would never let myself get so wrapped up in a little thing like
that,” said Beany. He threw himself back on his bed.

“Don’t do that,” said Porky. “We are going to the General’s tent at
seven, you know, to hear what the Fritz person is going to say for
himself. I bet he tells the truth anyhow. If the General fixes his
gimlet eye on him once, he will tell the truth, the whole truth, and
nothing but the truth.”

“I would in his place,” said Beany. “It wouldn’t seem just healthy
to lie to the General.” He commenced the simple process of dressing
as practiced by soldiers in the field. It consisted of very brief
bathing in a couple of teacups of water in a collapsible, and
usually collapsing washpan, made of canvas waterproofed, and after
that the simple drawing on of breeches, canvas puttees and shirt. A
soldier sleeps in his underwear, but sleeping in his outer garments
is very strictly forbidden, no matter how cold the weather may be.

The boys reached the General’s tent at ten minutes to seven, and
although they knew that the great man had been up for a couple of
hours, they sat quietly outside until their watches told off the
very tick of the expected hour. Then, just as they saw the guard
bringing up the prisoner, they tapped on the tent flap, and at a
word of summons entered.

The General, looking as though he had never stirred since the night
before, sat in his accustomed place at the head of the table, over
which a number of papers were strewn. He bade the boys good morning
and nodded them to seats. In another moment the prisoner entered.

For a few moments the General took no notice of the man, keeping his
eyes on his papers, while the fellow shifted uneasily from one foot
to the other.

Then General Pershing looked up.

“Prisoner,” he said, “it is not customary to accord a prisoner of
war the sort of interview I am about to give you, but the
circumstances alter this case. I want the truth, and the whole
truth.”

Porky and Beany nudged each other slyly.

“I want some of the information that it is in your power to give me,
and I want it straight. You know you are in my power. There is
always a firing squad for men like you. But I want you to unravel
this puzzle. I want you to commence when you left the ranch--yes,
even before that.”

The prisoner spoke eagerly. “I _will_ tell you the truth, sir. I am
glad to be here, no matter what you do to me. And I swear to tell
you the truth.” He held up his right hand, and the boys saw it
tremble. They commenced to believe him. It was evident that the
General did, for he nodded and the man plunged into his story.

It held the boys breathless.

“There were eight of us working for you, General, before America
went into this war. Eight men of German ancestry or birth. Most of
them were naturalized, but one night a man came to my house and
commanded me to meet him in a certain place. He was a German officer
and of course I was curious to know what he wanted. When I arrived
at the meeting place I found the others there. The officer, showing
credentials of his rank that we could not doubt, told us that we
were wanted as interpreters. Just that, General. He explained that
Germany was obliged to use all the men within her borders as
fighting men, and as they were most anxious to have no
misunderstanding with America, they were picking a German born, or
German bred man here and there as they could without rousing
suspicion. They were taking them from the farms rather than from the
cities. He said that several hundred would be needed. He assured us
that education was not necessary. It sounded very plausible,
General, and the salary we were promised was magnificent. We all
bit, General, and he took us away that very night in a couple of
automobiles.”

“The foreman told me,” said the General, “that you went away in the
middle of the busy season without giving warning.”

“Yes, we did, General. I am sorry, and I was sorry then, but the
pay--it was a _great_ temptation. We have been punished since. We
went down through Mexico and took ship. There were five hundred men
on board who were all going over to be ‘interpreters.’ And we never
guessed, poor fools, that ship after ship was bearing each a like
load. We never suspicioned the outcome. When we reached German soil,
we were scattered, two going one place, two another, and instead of
having any _interpreting_ to do, we were outfitted as soldiers and
attached to different regiments. Men kept coming day after day. I
dare not say how many thousands of Germans have been taken out of
the United States in this way. We were virtually prisoners. Of
course to the most of us it did not matter much. After all Germany
was our fatherland before America adopted us. As long as we were
fighting the French and English and the Russians, we did not care.

“But then, when we were already very tired, came the news that
President Wilson had declared war.

“General, it is not yet believed in Germany. All of them, the
highest officers, even the Emperor, on occasion, all have addressed
the troops and have explained that war was declared solely for
political purposes and that no troops were to be sent over sea.”

“They know now, do they not?” asked the General.

“Very few of them, General. They think that the English have adopted
the American uniform as a blind.”

“What did you think, Fritz?” asked the General.

“I saw them fight, and I knew,” said Fritz simply. “I know them; I
know how they fight. I told the others so. And when they came across
the plain I wanted to hurrah. I suppose I will be shot as a German
prisoner, but I could not help it. All my mistake was in the
beginning. I would have deserted if I could have done so. Why,
General, if those fellows over there behind the German lines knew
the truth, a third of them would walk right over here. They are lied
to again and again.”

“How is the army faring as regards food?” asked the General.

“There is not enough to feed a third of the men. All Germany is
dying slowly of substitutes. Substitutes for bread, for meat, for
tea, for sugar, for coffee, for milk. At first the army was fed
well, at the expense of the civilians. Now all suffer together, and
no man in the world works well or fights well on an empty and aching
stomach.” He groaned.

“What were you doing out there in that hillock?” asked the General.

“We were well behind the German lines a few days ago,” said Fritz,
“but whether they retired purposely or not, I cannot say. Since
then, however, we have been kept there to communicate with the
airplanes. It was possible to signal them by means of electric
flashes down on the floor of our hiding place, through the open trap
doors on top. Peter was in command. He took and sent the messages,
and repeatedly he crept out in the night. I was never allowed to do
anything, but if the Allies took the plain, and those ridges beyond
it, Peter said we would all go out in American uniforms and learn
what we could. We were expected to discover things too cleverly
hidden from the airplanes.”

“This is interesting at least, Fritz,” said the General. “It would
be still more interesting to know just how true it is that the
German army in general does not know that we are seriously in the
war. There are two millions of us here now, Fritz, and more coming.”

“Two millions!” echoed the astounded prisoner. “Two millions! When
they learn that, the war is over. But how will they ever learn it?
Your airplanes scattered leaflets along the front several times. Not
where I was stationed, but I heard the order that any man who saw
another stoop to pick up one of those leaflets, any man who was
caught reading one was to be shot dead by the nearest soldier, who
would receive the cross for doing it. I tell you, sir, they are
doing _every_thing they can to keep the army from learning that you
are in the fight.”

“I wonder how true all this is,” mused the General.

Porky and Beany watched him narrowly. They were sure he had some
plan, but it was clear that he wanted the prisoner to speak first.

“It is _all_ true,” said Fritz. “General, won’t you let me earn my
life, set me free for two hours--only that? And I will prove it to
you.”

“You will disappear just as you did from the ranch, I suppose,”
grated the General in a harsh voice. “Why should I give you any
chance?”

“I don’t deserve it,” said the prisoner, “except that if my plan
fails, I will certainly be shot by the Germans.”

“What do you propose?” asked the General.

“Two, perhaps three hours of freedom!” begged Fritz. “And if I can
reach the German lines alive, I will return with twenty prisoners to
prove to you that every man who is told that the Americans are here
and are promised that they will not be shot, will follow me across.”

“They are having a skirmish now,” said the General, listening, “and
a thunder storm is coming beside.” He was lost in thought. “Fritz,
make good!” he said. “I release you. You are but one man, no loss to
us, but you have told me a story of what amounts to kidnapping. I
would like to know if this is true. Just one thing. Prove it to me
by bringing twenty men back; but while you are there _set the word
free that the Americans have arrived_. Two millions, remember,
perhaps three.” He smiled. “And do not attempt to go or come until
nightfall. I will remain here until midnight to-night. You are under
guard until dark. You may go.” He rapped sharply on the table, the
guards entered and removed the prisoner.

The General began to smoke.

“What do you think, boys? Will he come back?”

“Yes, sir,” said both boys together.

“Why?” asked the General.

“Why, he was telling the truth!” said Porky.

“They don’t look like that other times,” said Beany. “He was
straight, all right.”

“He will have to prove it,” said the General grimly. “Men who leave
a job without warning, no matter what the needs of the situation, do
not fill me with confidence.”

“I guess he is sorry now, anyway,” said tender-hearted Beany.

“We will hope so,” said the General. “Porky, you may typewrite these
letters for me, and you, Beany, may check up these lists. If you can
do this properly, it will release a man for other duty.”

For two hours the two boys were too busy to know what went on in the
tent. When the task was done the General dismissed them with strict
orders that they were not to go more than thirty feet in any
direction from his tent.

When the Germans had occupied that side of the valley, they had also
used the hill as a temporary headquarters. Porky and Beany, like a
pair of very restless and inquisitive hounds, went over the ground
inch by inch. They could not help feeling that something good must
be waiting for them within their screen of trees. The fighting miles
away went on all day, and the time dragged for the boys until about
three in the afternoon.

And then Porky found it--a tiny piece of wire sticking out of the
ground under a root of the big tree under which they were sitting,
feeling like a couple of prisoners themselves. They had never been
on such close bounds before, and they didn’t like it.

Porky started to pull the wire, when Beany fell on him with a yell.

“A bomb!” he cried, flinging Porky on his back.

“My word! You have scared me to death anyhow,” said Porky.

Together they dug around the wire and followed it down and down
until they almost gave up. At last, however, they had their reward,
a square black tin box which they carried carefully to the General’s
tent.

Even then the greatest care was taken in opening it, for fear of an
infernal machine of some sort. It opened easily, however, and
without harm and disclosed a mass of papers. So many that the German
officer who had been in charge of them, fearing capture, had
evidently buried them, thinking that with the turn of battle he
could easily reclaim them from the earth.

Among the papers were several cypher keys, and one of them was found
to fit the papers found by Beany in the oak table in the dungeon at
the chateau back at headquarters.

Even the General was delighted, as a little study disclosed the most
important plans of the coming campaign and a scheme for the expected
drive, which now could be met point for point.

It was dusk before the General and his staff finished with an
examination of the papers, fitting the new keys to the papers
already in their possession.

Porky allowed himself to crow. “Guess we are sort of little old
Handy-to-have-around!” he chortled. “Guess we get to go all the way
with _this_ distinguished mob!”

“Looks so,” said Beany, “but you never can tell.”

_And they couldn’t._




                            CHAPTER VIII

                         ORDERS ARE ORDERS


Night fell dark and stormy. As soon as it was dusk Fritz begged to
be released and, receiving the General’s permission, slipped away.

“I doubt if he comes back,” said the General, “but it will spread
the news at least. No, it is too much to expect that a man will
persuade a couple of men, to say nothing of twenty, to give
themselves into the hands of an enemy they have been taught to
believe is ruthless, but if he does, we will know that the
conditions in the German army are worse than we dream.”

Time dragged away. The boys, still believing in Fritz, sat at the
head of the only trail, watching. They almost wore their watches out
looking at them, and trying them to see if they were wound. Time
seemed to stand still and yet, somehow, ten o’clock came, and eleven
and a quarter past. At half past the drivers prepared the cars for
their silent night journey to the next sector. The tents were down,
all but the screen of blankets behind which, with a closely shaded
light, the General sat.

Ten minutes and the boys looked once more at the illuminated dials,
and sighed.

“I’d have bet on that duck, if I was a betting man,” said Porky
sadly. “I bet he _meant_ to come.”

“Hark!” said Beany, listening.

Porky listened too. He could always hear what Beany heard, if Beany
called his attention to it. A soft tramp of feet could be heard. The
boys leaped to their feet. Tramp, tramp, scuffle, scuffle, up the
hill in the darkness!

“They are coming!” gasped Beany.

They were.

A flash of lightning preceding the storm that had hung off all day
split the sky, and in its momentary glare the boys saw a small squad
of American soldiers come out into the little clearing. The boys
stood aside as they passed. Another squad brought up the rear, and
between them--yes, between them marched, or rather staggered, a
dismal company of twenty haggard skeletons headed by Fritz!

He had kept his word. The men were evidently frightened badly and
Fritz kept talking to them as they advanced. The General came out of
his shelter and surveyed them by the light of his flash.

“Here they are, sir,” said Fritz. “Ask them what you like.”

The General spoke to the weary men and they replied rapidly in
harsh, hoarse voices. Porky and Beany stood in an agony of
curiosity, wishing that they had studied German instead of Latin in
high school.

Finally the General took time to explain to the officers who did not
understand.

He gave orders to have the prisoners fed, and soon the strange
little company wound off down the hill again on its way to the
prison camp. Fritz, as a sort of trusty, was given special
privileges.

“It is quite true, gentlemen,” said the General. “The conditions in
the enemy’s army are most serious. They are only half fed, poorly
clothed and letters occasionally smuggled from home report a
frightful state of affairs--famine, disease and intense suffering
among the families of the soldiers. This alone you know will break
the morale of their troops.

“And Fritz said he could have brought five hundred men as well as
this twenty, but they are taught that we torture them and always
shoot our prisoners sooner or later. That is why they fight so
desperately.

“They think death awaits them in any case, and that death on the
battlefield is far preferable to that which we will mete out to them
if taken prisoners.

“Fritz assured me that he had set the ball rolling, however, the
news of our millions of men in the field. This has been a surprising
experience but we are already late. We must be off!”

Rapidly the party took their seats in the automobiles. The first was
about to start when a motor was heard in the darkness. It was
approaching, apparently from headquarters.

“Word for the General!” was the whispered word, and sure enough, the
driver of the swift, low car had a letter for the General. He read
it and called the boys.

“News for you, young men,” he said regretfully. “General Bright has
been recalled to the States, and you are to return with him. This
cuts your stay several weeks and, I regret to say, makes it
impossible for you to continue with us. You are to return in this
car.”

The boys, desperately disappointed, hopped out, found their field
kits, and advanced to say good-by to the General.

He shook hands heartily and patted each on the shoulder.

“I shall miss you, boys,” he said. “You have certainly done your
bit! Some day, when we are all back in America, I shall expect you
to come and see how _real_ apples grow on a ranch in Oregon.”

The boys thanked him. They could not say much. It was a great
disappointment.

They settled back in the car which was to take them back to General
Bright. They heard the other cars glide quietly and swiftly away in
the distance. They too shot out at high speed.

Soberly they stared into the darkness. Their thoughts flew forward
to the tiresome trip to the port of embarkation, the long ocean
voyage with its deadly inaction. They had been living in confusion,
danger, and uncertainty. They commenced to see before them their
home, their father and mother, the familiar fellows.

“We have to get Bill and Peggy,” said Beany.

“Yep!” said Porky briefly.

They could just _see_ their mother, with oceans of love for them and
plenty for the two orphans beside.

For the first time a great wave of homesickness swept over the boys.
That they were to have a pleasant, safe trip would not have
interested them if they could have been told of it. They were
homesick. Silently they rolled on and on in the dark. Presently
Beany slipped an arm around the hunched up shoulders of his twin.

“Wish we were home _now_!” he said huskily.

“Gosh!” said Porky.

                               FINIS



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