They worked their way along the trench until they reached the entrance. No sound came from the interior. They listened for the murmur of conversation, the scraping of feet, the clank of a weapon. They looked down its length for a ray of light. Not a gleam or a sound rewarded them.
As far as they could judge, it was absolutely deserted. But on the other hand it might be bristling with armed men, waiting in a stillness as deathlike as their own the command to fire.
For fully ten minutes their watch continued. Then the corporal gathered them close around him and gave his commands in a whisper.
"We'll raid it," he decided. "There are only a few of us, but we'll have the advantage of surprise. That is, if they're not waiting to surprise us. But we'll have to gamble on that. It's only a connecting trench, and there won't be more than a dozen men or thereabouts in it. If we could bag them and take them back to camp it would be a good night's work. Have your guns ready and be prepared to slip them a few grenades if we have to. I'll lead the way and when the time comes I'll flash my light. Come along now and be right on your toes when I give the word."
Corporal Wilson went first and his scouting party followed close on his heels. It was like going into the jaws of death. It would have taken less nerve to face a charge, for then their blood would have been up and they would have been fired by the sight of their enemy. There would have been nothing of this eerie stillness, this vault-like chill. Yet not one of them hesitated or lagged behind.
Twenty paces had been covered when the corporal stopped, drew out his flashlight and sent out a stream of radiance that illumined every nook and cranny of the trench.
On the instant the boys had their rifles at their shoulders with their fingers on the triggers, ready for a volley.
But their precaution was needless. The trench was empty!
Empty as far as men were concerned. But it was full of other things that made their hair stand up with horror as their meaning swept in upon them!
Planted at intervals in the trench were rows of iron stakes, coming to a sharp point at the top and cunningly camouflaged so that they would not be detected by any one looking over the edge. The Army boys were not slow in seeing the meaning of the trap and the fiendish ingenuity that had conceived it.
"It's a dummy trench!" murmured Corporal Wilson. "The idea is to have their men seem to retreat into it when the fighting takes place on this part of the line. Our boys come on in pursuit, jump over the edge, come down on these sharp stakes and are spitted like larks. Nice way to wage war, that!"
"It's worthy of the Hun," growled Tom.
"And when you've said that you've reached the limit," observed Bart.
"The Turks are pretty good at torture," murmured Frank bitterly, "but they must feel like thirty cents when they compare themselves with their German masters."
"Let's get these things out of the way," said Billy wrathfully, as he grasped one of the spikes.
But the corporal stopped him instantly. "Don't dig them out!" he cried. "There's no knowing but what you may cause an explosion. Or they may have some electric connection that will give warning to the Boches. We've spotted the location of this infernal trap and that's enough. Our officers will see that our men steer clear of it."
"Of course," remarked Bart, "all the value to the Huns of this trap depends upon our boys jumping in from the top of the trench. If they came in from the entrance to the dugout, all the trouble of planting these spikes would be thrown away."
"It would be a trap just the same, only in a different way," replied the corporal. "It's a safe bet that the Germans have machine guns planted where they can sweep the whole length of this part of the trench. They'd wait until our boys were all crowded in here and then the machine guns would start spitting and wipe every last one of them out. There'd be no way to get put except the way they had come in, and no one could get through that storm of bullets. But now let's get out of this while the going's good."
The conversation had been carried on in the faintest whispers, and after the first hurried examination of the dummy trench there had been no light. But they all felt better when they had passed out of the trench without mishap and lay on the ground above. Here they were at least in the open, and if death came to them they would not be slaughtered like rats in a trap.
The corporal consulted his radio watch and found that it wanted but two hours to dawn.
"Not much time left, boys," he murmured. "And unless we get back to our lines before daylight, we'll stand a good chance of losing the number of our mess. But if we don't do anything else, we've done a pretty fair night's work. The finding of this dummy trench will put a crimp in the Heinies' plans. I'd like to have some prisoners to take along just for luck but all we've bagged is that sentry."
"Perhaps we haven't even got him," suggested Frank. "Some of his comrades may have found him by this time."
"Not likely," replied Bart. "He couldn't make a noise, and as we left him outside the wire they wouldn't be likely to stumble over him."
"All the same, we'd better get a hustle on," replied the corporal, and they started on their homeward journey as stealthily as they had come.
They had some difficulty in finding the breach in the wire through which they had entered, but at last they succeeded and wormed their way out. Then they felt around for the sentry and found him in the place they had left him. He had returned to consciousness, for when the corporal risked a ray of his flashlight on the upturned face, they could see that his eyes were open and looking at them intelligently.
The corporal placed the muzzle of his revolver against the man's neck as a gentle reminder of what would happen to him if he should make a sound, and they proceeded to untie his hands. Then they motioned to him that he was to get on his hands and knees and go before them, which, with muffled grunts, and after two or three attempts, he succeeded in doing. He was evidently dazed yet and stiff from the cramped attitude in which he had been lying, but stern necessity was on him and he finally wobbled and staggered on before them.
They had got some little distance away from the wires when Frank suddenly came to a dead stop. His comrades halted instantly.
"What is it?" whispered Wilson, who was nearest to him.
"That blur ahead of us," returned Frank. "It looks a little more solid than the rest of the darkness."
He pointed ahead and a little to the right.
"I don't see anything," remarked Tom.
"Neither do I," affirmed Billy.
"I think I see a little blacker patch than usual," declared Bart. "And it seems to be moving."
The corporal put his ear to the ground.
"I think Sheldon is right," he said, after a moment of intense listening. "At any rate we'll take no chances. Slip into some of these shell holes and lie low. If it should be an enemy patrol and there are too many to tackle we'll let them go by. But if there aren't more than double our number we'll take a crack at them. Keep your weapons ready and let fly when I give the word."
The ground was so pitted with craters from the heavy artillery duel that had been raging all the day before that they had no difficulty in finding shelter. Their prisoner, who judged by the preparations that some of his own comrades were approaching, was inclined to balk a little and delay matters, but a vigorous push of Bart's boot hastened his movements and he was tumbled in unceremoniously. And they blessed the precaution that had still left the gag in his mouth when they had unfastened his hands.
More and more the blur ahead of them detached itself from the surrounding darkness, until even skeptical Tom and Billy knew that what they saw was a body of men bearing down steadily in their direction.
Of course there was a chance that it was an American patrol out on an errand similar to their own, but it was unlikely, if that were so, that they would be going in the direction of the enemy's lines when the night was so far spent.
Nearer and nearer came the party until not more than thirty feet lay between them and the American boys who knelt in the shell holes, with faces stern and set and fingers on the triggers of their rifles awaiting the word of command.
But for some unknown reason the blur became motionless and remained so for several minutes. Then it receded, as though the party had changed its plan.
"What do you suppose is the matter with them?" whispered Tom. "Do you think they've tumbled to our being here?"
"How could they?" returned Frank. "They'd have to have the eyes of cats to see us in these holes."
"I hope the corp will let us go after them," murmured Billy. "I'm all tuned up for a scrap."
Wilson hesitated. If he went after the supposed enemy, they would probably hear him and he would lose the advantage of the surprise. On the other hand, that they now seemed to be going in the direction of the American lines might indicate that, after all, they were a patrol of his own comrades. But while he weighed the chances, the question was solved for him by the fact that the blur again became distinct. And this time it grew larger very rapidly, indicating that the party had at last reached a definite decision. On they came until only a few paces separated them from the Army boys.
Just then a star shell rose from the German lines and sent a flare of light stabbing the darkness and clearly revealing a dozen or more Germans. As they were facing the glare they were momentarily dazzled by it, and the Americans peering beneath their black hoods on a level with the ground could have easily escaped detection had they been so inclined.
But that instantaneous flash had decided the corporal. The odds were more than two to one, but such odds as that was only a challenge to Yankee fighting blood.
"Fire!" he shouted, and five rifles spoke as one. Three of the enemy went down as though stricken by an axe, and another staggered and his rifle clattered to the ground.
But the enemy rallied almost instantly, and at a hoarse command there was a return volley. This proved harmless, however, for the boys knew that it would come and bent beneath the edge of the craters until the iron storm had swept over them.
"Now, boys, at them with your bayonets!" shouted Corporal Wilson, as soon as he had drawn the enemy's fire.
With a leap the American squad was on the level ground and rushing with leveled bayonets at the foe.
The Americans had the advantage of the surprise, and their headlong charge would have won instantly if the forces had been equal. But although two went down at once, the others, after yielding ground somewhat, closed in a death grip with their assailants, and there was a furious combat at close quarters.
There was no more shooting. It was a matter now of clubbed rifles and bayonet thrusts.
Frank found himself engaged in a bayonet duel with a massive German who towered above him in height and probably outweighed him by twenty pounds. He was well trained too in bayonet work and was a most formidable opponent.
But he met his master when he crossed bayonets with Frank. The latter had made himself expert by long training under skilful French instructors, and, besides, was the most finished boxer in the regiment. At thrust and parry, feint and riposte, advance and retreat, he stood first among his comrades.
Against the furious bull-like rushes of his opponent, he opposed a quickness and agility that more than counterbalanced his enemy's weight It was a contest of a bull against a panther, and the panther won.
For perhaps two minutes the fight continued. Then with a lightning thrust Frank's bayonet found its mark, and the German staggered for a moment, fell headlong and lay still.
His fall seemed to take the heart out of the others who were being outfought and pressed back. They wavered, broke and started to flee, but the sharp crack of the corporal's revolver brought one of them to the ground, and the others halted.
Up went their hands and from the lips of each came the cry "Kamerad!" in token of surrender.
The American boys rounded them up and disarmed them. Then the corporal took account of stock.
Bart was there panting and flushed with nothing worse than a scalp wound where a rifle butt had glanced from his head. Wilson himself was unhurt. Billy also had come through unscathed, but Tom was nowhere to be seen.
An awful fear, a fear that they had never felt in the fighting itself, clutched the hearts of his comrades. Good old Tom, bound to them by a thousand ties of friendship and comradeship—had he met his fate in this desolate stretch of No Man's Land?
Frantically they searched among the bodies for one that wore a suit similar to their own. Frank found it first. His hand went to the heart and to his joy found that it was beating.
He lifted Tom's head and rested it on his knee.
"Tom! Tom!" he called, as he chafed his chum's hands and loosened his suit at the throat.
Tom's eyes slowly opened, and, recognizing his friend, a faint smile came to his lips. But he did not speak, and Bart, who was the only other one who could be spared from guarding the prisoners, joined Frank in redoubled efforts to bring Tom back to full consciousness.
"He doesn't seem to have any bones broken," said Frank after a hurried examination.
"And he isn't bleeding," replied Bart. "But he has a lump on his head as big as an egg."
At last Tom's full consciousness returned, and with his chums' assistance he got slowly and painfully to his feet.
"Guess they haven't got my number yet, but they came mighty near it," he said, trying to grin. "I'd just run one of the Huns through the arm when I saw another out of the tail of my eye swinging for my head with his rifle. I tried to dodge, but he must have been too quick for me, for that's the last I remember."
"Thank heaven it was no worse!" ejaculated Frank fervently.
"It would have been a mighty bad thing for us if you had cashed in, old boy," said Bart with feeling. "How did the scrap turn out?" asked Tom.
"Though I suppose there's no use in asking, or you wouldn't be here taking care of me."
"We trimmed them good and proper," said Frank, from whom a ton's weight had been lifted by finding that his friend had escaped serious injury.
"A lovely scrap," added Bart. "I wouldn't have missed it for a farm. We've wiped out five and rounded out the rest. Let's go over and see how many there are."
"Eight," announced the corporal, as he counted the prisoners who stood in a group sullen and morose. "There must have been a baker's dozen in the party."
"I don't know how superstitious they may be," chuckled Billy, "but I'll bet that from now on they'll agree that thirteen is an unlucky number!"
"Well," remarked Corporal Wilson, who was relieved beyond measure to find that his own little force was practically intact, "eight is a pretty good bag for one night's work, not to speak of five more who won't do any more strafing for the Kaiser."
"Nine," corrected Bart. "Don't forget our speechless friend in the shell hole."
"No doubt he'd be perfectly willing to be forgotten," grinned Billy. "But we'd better take him along just for luck. That'll be nearly two prisoners apiece for each of the bunch. Pretty fair work if you ask me."
There was no further time for talking, for it would soon be dawn and they were eager to get back to their own lines. They had been under a terrible strain through all the long hours of the night and were beginning to feel the reaction. And they were not at all averse to showing their comrades in the regiment how well they had fared and how stoutly they had held up the colors of the old Thirty-seventh.
"Who goes there?" came the sharp challenge of the sentry, as they drew near the American trench, and they knew that a score of rifles was trained upon them to back up the sentry's demand if the answer were halting or suspicious.
"Friends," replied the corporal.
"Advance and give the countersign," was the next requirement.
Corporal Wilson complied, and he and his squad were joyfully welcomed.
"I said 'friends'" added the corporal with a grin, as the party made their way through the opening in the wire defences, "but perhaps that doesn't go for all this crowd. Some of them didn't want to come, but we told them they'd better, and here they are."
"A bunch of huskies," remarked the sentry, as he surveyed the prisoners critically. "You don't mean to say that just you five rounded up that gang?"
The four privates merely grinned.
"Looks like it, doesn't it?" answered the corporal with keen relish of the sentry's surprise. "Counting those we brought down, there are just fourteen that will turn up missing when the Boches call the roll this morning."
"That's going some," said the sentry admiringly. "I only wish I'd been along with you. Some fellows have all the luck."
The prisoners were turned over to the officer in charge, and the corporal made his way to headquarters to make his report of the night's work.
Bart and Tom went under the hands of the surgeons to have their wounds and bruises treated, and were assured that with a little rest they would be as well as ever in a day or two. Then the boys, "dog-tired," as Bart expressed it, but happy and exultant that they had done their work well and were back safe once more, tumbled into their bunks to enjoy the rest they had so richly earned.
"Never was so tired in my life," murmured Frank, drowsily, as he fell rather than climbed into his bunk.
"Same here," chimed in Billy.
"Rip Van Winkle won't have anything on me," drawled Tom. "What's twenty years of sleep? I'm going to take forty."
As for Bart, he started to say something but dropped off to sleep while saying it.
None of the quartette woke until late in the afternoon. Then they found that their exploit had made a stir in the regiment. Their fight against twice their number was the most interesting feature to their comrades of the rank and file. But still more important in the view of their officers was the discovery of the dummy trench, which might have been turned into a shambles for the American troops if they had rushed into the trap so cunningly and so fiendishly set for them.
"It was fine work, Corporal," the captain said warmly, when Wilson finished his report. "You deserve credit for having brought your squad back without the loss of a man."
"They mostly brought themselves back, sir," replied Wilson with a smile. "It's a pleasure to command such a nervy crowd as that. You don't need to use the spur. I'm mostly busy putting on the brakes. It would have done your heart good if you could have seen the way they waded into the Huns. That fellow Sheldon particularly is a crackerjack when it comes to a scrap. He's as strong as an ox and as quick as a cat."
"I've had my eye on him," replied the officer. "He'll go far before the war is over. You can go now, Corporal. I'll have your work mentioned in the order of the day."
He was as good as his word, for when the regiment was drawn up for inspection the order of the day commended each man of the squad by name for their gallant exploit that, as the order ran, "reflected credit on the regiment."
"How's your head feeling now, old man?" Frank asked of Tom, as they rejoined each other at mess.
"Pretty groggy," responded Tom. "But I'm not kicking. I'm lucky to be alive at all. That fellow made an awful swipe at me, and if it had hit me fair it would have been all over."
"A miss is as good as a mile," put in Bart. "I had a pretty close shave myself. Seemed as though twenty star shells were going off at once."
"Yesterday was your lucky day," remarked Billy. "You had two narrow escapes."
"Let's hope it won't be three times and out," responded Bart lightly." By the way, I wonder what they did with that corporal who tried to do me up?"
"Most likely he's shot by this time," observed Tom. "If he isn't, he ought to be."
"He isn't shot yet at any rate," remarked Fred Andon, who sat near by. "I guess the fighting was so hot all day yesterday that they didn't have time to attend to him. Likely enough he's down in the prisoners' pen waiting for the court-martial."
"Let's go down and see after we've finished our chow," suggested Billy. "That is if you fellows ever get through eating. Look at Tom stowing it away. He'd eat his way through the whole quartermaster's department if he was let."
"And he's the fellow that they wouldn't let enlist because of his teeth," gibed Bart. "They didn't know Tom."
"I'm not the only one that got a raw deal," replied Tom, with whom it was always a sore point that he had been refused when he wanted to enlist, but had been accepted in the draft. "There's a drafted man here who was telling me the other day that he walked ninety miles to enlist. And do you know what the enlistment board did to him?"
"What?" was the query.
"Turned him down because he had flat feet," responded Tom. "Told him he wouldn't be able to stand a five-mile hike."
There was a roar of laughter.
"I heard another good one," chimed in Billy. "A fellow wanted to enlist, and the examining board wanted to reject him because he had a cast in his eye. 'Oh, that's all right,' he drawled, 'I allus shets that eye anyway when I shoot.' That made them laugh and he got by."
In high spirits they finished their meal, and as they were off duty for the next hour or two, made their way down to that quarter of the field where the prisoners' camp was placed.
Behind the barrier at the point nearest them they saw one bulky captive, who was munching contentedly the food that had been given him, and who had none of the woe-begone expression that a man in his position is commonly expected to show.
"See him shovel it in," laughed Billy.
"He doesn't seem to have a care in the world," remarked Bart.
"Probably glad to be behind our machine guns instead of in front of them," conjectured Tom.
"Hello, Heinie!" said Frank good-naturedly.
"Hello yourself," came the answer.
"Do you speak English?" asked Frank in surprise.
"A little," replied the German, and proceeded to prove it by answering, although in rather a halting manner, the questions they put to him.
No, he at any rate had not wanted the war. He was a skilled mechanic in one of the munition factories. There had been a strike on account of bad conditions and he had been one of the leaders. The Government had seized him and bundled him off to the front. He was glad to be captured. After the war the Kaiser would see that men were born to be something else than cannon fodder.
"Well," remarked Frank as they moved along, "there's one fellow at least that doesn't cry: 'Hoch the Kaiser.'"
"Seems good to see it so full," remarked Bart with great satisfaction, as he saw the large number of Germans who had been captured in the fierce fighting of the day before.
"If only the Kaiser and the Crown Prince were in that bunch," sighedTom.
"That's a pleasure still to come," replied Frank. "But where's the fellow that tried to stab Bart? I don't see him anywhere. Seems as though the party isn't complete without him."
They made inquiry of one of the guards.
"Oh, that one," replied the guard. "They've roped him out from the rest of these mavericks and given him a hut all by himself. I guess he's thinking of making his will. I hear they're going to have him out before a drumhead in the morning."
"Which hut is it?" asked Frank, as his eye took in a little group of shacks at the further end of the field.
"That end one down by the big tree." The guard pointed it out with the point of his bayonet.
They went down in that direction, and as they neared the hut saw that it was guarded by a single sentry.
"Who's that fellow on guard?" asked Tom. "My head's so dizzy yet thatI'm seeing things double."
"Looks rather familiar for a fact," said Bart. "Wait till he turns his head this way."
The next instant the sentry turned, and there was a whistle of surprise from Billy. "By the great horn spoon!" he ejaculated. "It's Nick Rabig!"
"Set a Hun to watch a Hun," remarked Tom bitingly.
"Oh, come, Tom," remonstrated Frank, "that's going a little too far. I've no reason to like the fellow, and we know he had to be dragged into the army, but that doesn't say he's a Hun."
"All except the uniform," persisted Tom. "He'd rather be fighting for the Kaiser this minute than for Uncle Sam."
"Shouldn't wonder if Tom's more than half right," assented Billy. "You know the way he" used to talk in Camport."
"You notice that we've never seen him volunteering for any of the raiding parties," said Billy.
"But that may only mean that Rabig has a yellow streak in him. It doesn't say that he's a traitor," returned Frank.
"Well, maybe he isn't," conceded Tom. "But all the same it seems rather queer that he should have been picked out to guard this Heinie. They could talk together in German through that closed door and nobody be wise to what they were saying."
"I don't suppose the officers know Rabig as well as the rest of us do," said Billy. "But say, fellows, look at that bit of white under the door of the hut. What do you suppose it is?"
"Oh, just a scrap of paper," laughed Bart. "Just like the Belgian treaty."
"Something the wind's blown up against the door, I guess," conjecturedTom.
"Wind nothing!" exclaimed Frank, whose vision was keener than that of any of the others. "It's under the door and it's getting bigger and bigger all the time. I tell you what it is, fellows," he went on excitedly, "it's a note that's being pushed out by the fellow inside."
"Let's get behind these trees and see what's going on," suggested Bart, indicating a clump of trees near which they happened to be standing.
In a moment they were screened from observation. Then they watched with the keenest interest what would follow.
That Rabig had caught sight of the paper was evident, for he stopped his pacing and turned his eyes on the door. Then he looked stealthily about him. The nearest sentry was some distance away, and the boys were well hidden by the trees.
Then Rabig made a complete circuit of the little hut, as though to make sure that no one was lurking about. Having apparently satisfied himself on that point, he returned and resumed his pacing until he was directly in front of the door.
Here he paused and drew out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead. But as he went to put it back, it dropped from his hand so that it lay close by and almost upon the protruding piece of paper.
He was stooping to pick it up, when he caught sight of a sergeant coming in his direction. Instantly he straightened up, and as he did so the butt of his rifle knocked against the door.
The paper disappeared as though it had been drawn swiftly back from the inside, just as the sergeant came up.
"Gee!" gasped Tom.
"Prisoner all right, Rabig?" inquired the sergeant.
"Yes, sir," replied Rabig. "He seems to be keeping pretty quiet. I looked in a little while ago and he was lying asleep on the bench."
"Keep a close watch on him," counseled the sergeant. "What he tried to do to Raymond yesterday shows that he's a desperate character. But I guess that by this time to-morrow he won't need any one to watch him."
The sergeant passed on and the boys looked at each other with speculation in their eyes.
"What do you think of it?" asked Frank thoughtfully.
"Think?" snorted Tom. "I think that Rabig is a bad egg. What else is there for any one to think?"
"It certainly looks suspicious," said Bart with a little wrinkle of anxiety creasing his brow.
"One thing is sure," declared Billy. "It was a note that was being pushed outside that door. The fellow inside was trying to get into communication with Rabig."
"True," assented Frank. "But that in itself doesn't prove anything. You or I might be on sentry duty and a prisoner might try to do the same thing to us."
"Yes," agreed Billy. "But we wouldn't act the way Rabig did. We'd have picked up the note and given it to the sergeant of the guard."
"And we wouldn't have sneaked around the hut to see if any one was near by," said Tom. "Why did he drop his handkerchief, except to have an excuse for picking it up and copping the note at the same time?"
"And his rifle butt didn't hit the door by accident," put in Billy. "That was a tip to the prisoner that some one was coming. Did you see how quickly the note disappeared?"
"I hate to think that there's a single man in the regiment who's a disgrace to his uniform," remarked Frank, "but it certainly looks bad. That fellow Rabig will bear watching."
"I told you he was a Hun," declared Tom. "His body's in France, but his heart's in Germany."
The Army boys thought over the situation in some perplexity.
"What do you suppose we ought to do?" asked Bart.
"We ought to go hotfoot to the captain and tell him what we've seen," declared Tom with emphasis.
"I hardly like to do that," objected Billy. "At least not at this stage of the game. After all, we haven't any positive proof against Nick. His handkerchief might have dropped accidentally. And the knocking of the butt of his gun against the door could have happened without his meaning anything by it. He could explain his going around the hut by saying he wanted to be especially vigilant in guarding the prisoner."
"Yes," agreed Frank, "we haven't proof enough against Rabig to hang a yellow dog. And I wouldn't want to get him in bad with his officers on mere suspicion."
"That note might be proof if we could only get hold of it," suggestedTom.
"Swell chance!" returned Bart. "You can bet that note is chewed up and swallowed by this time. The first thing the Hun thought of, when he was tipped off that some one was coming, was to get rid of the evidence that might queer his chance of escape."
"I'll tell you what we'll do," said Frank. "We'll just go down and see Rabig and ask him casually about the prisoner. That may make him think that we're on to something, and if he's planning to do anything crooked it may scare him off. It won't do any harm anyway, and we'll take a chance."
They left the clump of trees and strolled down carelessly in the direction of the hut.
Rabig saw them coming, and the surly look that was habitual with him became more pronounced than usual. There was no love lost between him and any of them. He had been thoroughly unpopular in Camport because of his bullying nature even before the outbreak of the war, and his evident leaning toward Germany had deepened this feeling.
Since he had been drafted, he had of course kept his pro-German views to himself, for he valued his skin and had no desire to face a firing squad. But his work had been done grudgingly, and his disposition to shirk had more than once gained him short terms in the guardhouse.
Of all the group approaching him he most heartily disliked Frank. In the first place, Frank had never permitted him to bully him when they were with Moore & Thomas, and the two had been more than once on the brink of a fight. And since the boxing bout in the camp, when he had tried foul tactics and Frank had thrashed him thoroughly, his venom toward his conqueror had been more bitter than ever.
The boys stopped when they reached the front of the hut.
"Hello, Rabig!" they greeted him.
"Hello!" responded Rabig, still keeping up his pacing.
"Right on the job, I see," remarked Bart, pleasantly enough.
"Your eyesight's mighty good," replied Nick sullenly.
"Yes," Bart came back at him, "I can see a bit of white paper from quite a distance."
Rabig gave a sudden start.
"What do you mean by that?" he demanded.
"Nothing special," replied Bart carelessly. "What should I mean?"
"By the way," put in Tom, "you'd better tuck your handkerchief in a little more tightly or you'll lose it. It looks as though it were almost ready to drop out."
"What if it does?" snarled Rabig. "I could pick it up again, couldn'tI?"
"Of course you could," said Tom, "but you might pick up something else with it. Dust, or a bit of paper, or something like that."
"Say, what's the matter with you guys anyway?" demanded Rabig, glowering at them.
"That looks like quite a solid door," remarked Frank, inspecting it critically.
"Oh, I don't know," responded Billy. "It's got dents in it. Here's one that looks as though it were made by a rifle butt."
Rabig looked at them angrily, and yet furtively, evidently seeking to find out how much their remarks meant.
"You fellows had better get along," he snapped. "You're interfering with discipline by talking to a sentry on guard."
Rabig's newborn reverence for discipline amused the boys so that they had hard work to repress a laugh.
"You're right," responded Frank. "We'll mosey along."
"Ta-ta, Rabig," said Bart. "Keep your eye peeled for any Hun trick. That fellow nearly got me yesterday with his knife, and he might try to play the same game on you."
"Don't you worry," growled Rabig. "I can take care of myself."
The chums passed on, laughing and talking about indifferent things, until they were out of ear shot.
"We've got him guessing," remarked Billy with a grin.
"We managed to put a flea in his ear," agreed Tom.
"Did you see how red he got?" questioned Bart.
"He sure is wondering how much we know," summed up Frank. "Whether it will make him go straight or not is another question. What we fellows ought to do is to take turns keeping tab on him, so that he can't act crooked even if he wants to." "It's a pity there should be any men in the American army whom we have to watch," said Tom bitterly.
"Yes, but that's to be expected," returned Frank. "There's never been an army in the history of the world that hasn't been infected with traitors more or less."
"Look at Benedict Arnold," remarked Billy.
"To my mind, it's surprising that there aren't more," said Frank. "That's what the Kaiser was counting on. He thought that the German element in America was so strong that we wouldn't dare to go to war with him. Do you remember what he told Gerard? That 'there were five hundred thousand Germans in America who would revolt'?"
"Yes," grinned Billy, "and I remember how Gerard came back at him with the 'five hundred thousand lamp-posts on which we'd hang them if they did.'"
They were out on the main road by this time, and they stepped to one side and saluted, as an officer in French uniform, accompanied by an orderly, came galloping along.
The officer's eye swept the group as he returned the salute, and when it rested on Frank he drew up his horse so suddenly that the beast sat back on its haunches.
The officer threw himself from the horse's back, cast the reins to his orderly, and came impetuously toward the astonished Army boys with his hand extended to Frank.
"Monsieur Sheldon!" he exclaimed, his face beaming. "Mon braveAmericain. Le sauveur de ma vie."
"Colonel Pavet!" cried Frank with equal pleasure, as he took the extended hand.
"Yes," replied the newcomer, "Colonel Pavet, alive and well, thanks to you. Ah, I shall never forget the night when I lay wounded on the battlefield and you climbed out of the trench and made your way through a storm of bullets and shells to my side and carried me back to safety. It was the deed of a hero, a modern d'Artagnan! How glad I am to see you again!"
"And I to see you" responded Frank warmly. "You were so dreadfully wounded that I feared you might not recover."
They were talking in French, which Frank spoke like a native, thanks to his French mother, and the other boys saluted and passed on, leaving the two together.
"If we had not met, I would have searched you out," went on the colonel, "for I have some news for you. News that both you and your mother will be glad to hear."
"My mother," repeated Frank, his eyes kindling and his heart responding, as it never failed to do at the mention of that dear mother of his, who in her lonely home across the sea was waiting and praying for him.
"Yes," replied Colonel Pavet, "your mother, Madame Sheldon,—it seems strange for me to name her thus, for I never think of her except as Lucie De Latour, as I knew her in her girlhood—has a very excellent prospect of coming into the property that was willed to her."
"I'm very glad to hear that!" exclaimed Frank. "And I know that my mother will be pleased too. I have told her in my letters about my meeting with you, and I gave her the remembrances that you were kind enough to send her. She was delighted to know that I had met one of her old neighbors in Auvergne, and she asked me to thank you most heartily for your kindness in promising to look after her interests."
The colonel smiled genially.
"She is too good," he responded. "The obligation is all on my side. My humble services would have been at her disposal in any event simply for the sake of old friendship. But how much more ought they to be wholly hers, now that her son has saved my life."
"I am afraid you put too much value on what I did, Colonel," said Frank deprecatingly.
"It was something that not one in ten thousand would have done," replied the colonel warmly. "When I found myself helpless and wounded on that field of death I thought my life was over, and I had commended my soul to God."
"I'm glad that you have lived to strike another blow for France," saidFrank.
"Ah, for France!" repeated the colonel fervently, as he lifted his cap reverently.
"As I started to say," he resumed after a moment, "your mother's prospects for coming into her own are excellent. After my wound I was sent home, and for some time it was doubtful whether I would live or die. But God was good and I recovered. While I was gradually mending I had ample time to look into that matter of the contested will. And, fortunately, just at that time my brother André, who is one of the leading lawyers of Paris, came to the chateau to see and cheer me up while I was convalescing. I laid the whole matter before him, and he went into it thoroughly. He has gone over all the proceedings in the case, and he tells me that there is no doubt that your mother has the law as well as right—unfortunately they are not always the same thing— on her side. He says that the testimony of those who are contesting the will smacks strongly of perjury. It is too bad that your mother cannot be here, for then André thinks the whole thing could be straightened out at once."
"It is too bad," agreed Frank; "but in the present state of things, and the danger on the Atlantic from submarines, I would not want her to take the risk. But what you say delights me, as I am sure it will her, and I can't thank you enough for all the trouble you have taken."
"Not trouble, but pleasure," corrected the colonel. "And you can be assured that the matter will not be allowed to lag now that André has taken it up. When he starts a case he can be depended on to carry it through to a finish. I will keep in close touch with him and will let you know from time to time how the matter is progressing. But now tell me about yourself."
"There's not much to tell," replied Frank. "I'm well and have been lucky enough so far not to have stopped a bullet."
The colonel's eyes twinkled.
"Not much to tell," he repeated. "No, not if Monsieur Sheldon does the telling. But there are others who speak more freely. Your captain, for instance."
Frank flushed uncomfortably and Colonel Pavet laughed outright.
"Bravery and modesty usually go together," he went on. "How about that machine gun episode yesterday, when an American soldier cut down its crew, turned it on the enemy trench and compelled the men in it to surrender? How about the raiding party where five men accounted for fourteen of the Huns? You see,mon ami, that I have a good memory for details. Ah, you are blushing. I wonder if you, too, could recall these things if you tried."
"There were a lot of us in on them," parried Frank, "and one did as much as another."
"Well," rejoined the colonel, "I'm proud that a French woman is your mother. You have a glorious heritage in the traditions of two gallant countries. And I rejoice to see the way you Americans are throwing yourselves into the fighting. We were sorely pressed by the Hun hordes and were fighting with our backs against the wall."
"And such fighting!" returned Frank enthusiastically. "The world has never seen anything finer. The spirit of France is unconquerable."
"Yes," replied the colonel proudly. "As one of our great orators has said: 'If the men are all killed the women will rise up; if the women are killed the children will rise; if the children are killed the very dead will rise and fight—fight for France."
"But I must go on," he continued, motioning to his orderly to bring up his horse. "I have a long journey yet before I reach the headquarters of my division. I am more delighted than I can tell that I met you as I did. May we meet again soon."
"In Berlin, if not sooner," interjected Frank with a smile.
"Ah, that is it," said the colonel delightedly. "In Berlin! That is theway to speak. It may be a long time, but sooner or later the Stars andStripes and the Tricolor will wave togetherUnter den Linden. MayHeaven speed the day!"
The French officer wrung Frank's hand warmly, sprang into the saddle, and with Frank's "bon voyage" ringing in his ears, galloped rapidly away.
Twilight was coming on as Frank set out to rejoin his comrades, who were waiting for him at a little distance down the road. His heart was light, for he had news to write his mother that he knew would bring her pleasure.
"Some swell," chaffed Tom, as Frank came up to his friends. "Talking to a colonel as though he were a pal. I wonder that you condescend to talk to us common privates."
"It is a comedown," grinned Frank; "but I'll try to tolerate you for a while longer. But say, fellows, that colonel is a brick! Not a bit of side about him. And he's doing a lot for us in the matter of my mother's property that I've told you about."
"That's bully!" exclaimed Bart heartily.
"I'll forgive him," conceded Tom magnanimously, "even if he does talk in a lingo that I can't understand."
"Why, I thought you were a finished French scholar by this time," chaffed Bart.
"Do you remember the day Tom tried to ask for soup and got his tongue twisted around 'bouillon'?" gibed Billy, with a broad grin.
"Well, I got the soup anyway, didn't I?" defended Tom.
"Sure you got it," agreed Billy. "I could hear you getting it."
Tom made a pass at him that Billy ducked.
"Talking about soup makes me hungry," remarked Bart. "If you fellows stand talking here much longer we'll be late at chow."
"I'd like to have one more look at that hut Rabig's guarding," saidFrank a little uneasily.
"We might stroll down this way again after supper if you like," suggested Billy, "but just at present a little knife and fork exercise seems the most pressing business I have to attend to."
Just then their talk was interrupted by a single shot, followed by a volley of them, and looking back in the direction from which they had come, they saw men running in the direction of the hut that Rabig had been guarding.
They turned and ran at full speed and were soon in the midst of an excited group gathered about the hut.
"What's up?" asked Frank of one of the soldiers.
"Prisoner escaped," replied the other briefly.
"What prisoner?"
"The fellow that Rabig was guarding. Some way or other he got out, managed to strike Rabig down and skipped. Poor Rabig's pretty badly messed up."
The boys looked at each other.
"PoorRabig," repeated Tom, and there was a world of meaning in his tone.
The sergeant of the guard came running up quickly, followed by two other officers of higher rank, and a hurried inquiry took place on the spot.
Rabig had been lifted to his feet from where he had been lying, and stood supported by two comrades. Blood was running down his face from a wound in his head. He seemed weak and dazed, although a surgeon who had been hastily summoned pronounced the wound not dangerous. He seemed to have been dealt a glancing blow, and, as in the case of all scalp wounds, the blood had flowed freely.
"Bring a seat for him," commanded the lieutenant in charge, and the order was promptly obeyed.
"Now, Rabig," proceeded the officer, not unkindly, "tell me about this.How did you come to lose your prisoner?"
Rabig looked about him in a helpless sort of way.
"I don't know," he mumbled. "My head is swimming so that I can't remember."
"Try to think," said the officer patiently. Rabig seemed to make an effort, but did not succeed and fell back in a swoon that put an end for the present to the questioning.
"Who saw anything of this?" queried the lieutenant, looking about him."Does any one know in what direction the prisoner went?"
"If you please, sir," said one of the sentries who had been guarding an adjacent hut, "I saw a man jump on a horse and go through the woods there, but it was getting dark and I didn't know but what it might be one of our own men. But I ran up here and found Rabig lying on the ground, and the door of the hut was open. I sent a shot after the man on horseback and so did some of the other men, but we couldn't take aim and I don't know whether we hit him or not."
"Look alive there," commanded the officer. "Sergeant, take a squad of men and beat up these woods. The fellow may be hiding there. Take him dead or alive."
"Yes, sir," replied the sergeant, saluting.
The soldiers standing by were hastily sent into the woods and others were summoned to join them. The prisoner had got a good start, but by this time the field telephones were busy all along the line and his chance of ultimate escape was by no means bright. But he was a powerful and desperate man, and if he had any weapons at all he would probably make his capture a costly one.
"He'll reason that he's a dead man if we get him and he might as well die fighting," remarked Frank, as with his comrades he picked his way through the woods.
"Righto," agreed Tom. "And even if he didn't have a weapon when he escaped, there are lots of them lying around and he won't have any trouble in picking one up."
"I wonder if he'll stick to the horse," mused Bart.
"I hardly think so," replied Billy. "He knows from the shots that were sent after him that we know he used a horse in escaping and will be looking for a man on horseback. So he'll try to deceive us by going on foot."
"He'll probably hang about in the woods until it's pitch dark and then try to get through the lines," said Frank. "He may be behind any tree or bush, and we want to be mighty careful to examine each one as we go past it."
"Maybe he'll climb a tree," suggested Tom, looking up to the branches of one he happened to be under at the moment.
"Not a chance at this time of the year," objected Billy. "There aren't any leaves to hide him, and even in the darkness we could probably see his outline against the sky. Then, too, if he were seen he could be potted too easily. No, he's not up a tree."
"Queer that he should have got away so soon after we'd been down to the hut," remarked Frank.
"Queer!" snorted Tom. "It isn't queer at all to my way of thinking. The whole thing was cut and dried."
"Then you think that Rabig was in cahoots with him?" asked Bart dubiously.
"I'm sure of it," responded Tom. "Use your common sense, fellows. We see half a dozen suspicious things that look as if Rabig and the prisoner had some understanding. A little while after the prisoner escapes. What's the answer?"
"The answer might be several things," replied Frank, who hated to believe evil of even his worst enemy. "A lot of things are due to coincidence. It may be perfectly true that Rabig was in sympathy with the German, but that doesn't say that he'd go so far as to let him actually escape. He was taking big chances with his own skin in doing it."
"Besides, there's no doubt that Rabig was wounded," remarked Bart. "That fellow seems to have given him an awful knock. He was bleeding like fury."
"Oh, it was easy enough to arrange that," answered Tom, unconvinced. "It would have been too raw to have Rabig let the fellow go and still be safe and sound. How could he explain it? He'd be brought up for court-martial. But a scalp wound could be easily made where it would produce the most blood and do the least harm."
"But what object would Rabig have in taking such chances?" asked Billy."The fellow had been searched and couldn't have had any money with him."
"No, but he could have promised plenty," argued Tom. "Perhaps he's told Rabig that the grateful Kaiser would make him rich. How do we know that Rabig wouldn't fall for that? He's got an ivory dome anyway. If there were more than two ideas in his head at one time they'd be arrested for unlawful assemblage."
The boys laughed and Tom went on:
"Besides, how do we know but what Rabig is planning to desert and wants to pave the way for a warm welcome on the other side? It would be easy enough to slip across while the lines are so near each other."
"But Rabig seemed to be pretty badly hurt," said Billy. "You saw him faint."
"Which only proves that he is a good actor," retorted Tom dryly. "Don't think me hardhearted, fellows, because I'm not. I'm always ready to give everybody his due. But I feel sure down in my heart that this thing was all fixed up beforehand, and some day you'll find that I'm right."
For more than two hours they kept up the search without result, and the fact that they had not had their supper was forced upon them with growing insistency.
"Isn't there any time limit to this?" grumbled Bart. "I'll be hunting for acorns instead of a prisoner before long."
"I've got a vacuum where my stomach ought to be," moaned Billy. "Gee, wouldn't I like to be streaking it for the mess room."
"Cork up, you fellows," commanded Frank. "Listen! I thought I heard something just then."
The talking ceased instantly, and all stood as rigid as statues.
"It's a horse coming this way," whispered Frank, after a moment of strained attention. "Quick, fellows, get behind these bushes and have your rifles ready!"
They crouched low and peered up a little glade that ran through the forest.
But the noise ceased as suddenly as it had begun and they began to think that their comrade had been mistaken.
"Guess Frank's been stringing us," chaffed Billy.
"He's the only one who seems to have heard anything," said Tom.
"Don't you worry about my hearing," said Frank. "I tell you I heard a horse's hoofs. Perhaps the rider suspects something and is trying to get a line on us, just as we're trying to get one on him."
"It may have been a horse all right," said Billy, "but that doesn't say he had any rider. He may be rambling around all by his lonesome, and perhaps he's stopped to graze somewhere."
"There he goes again!" exclaimed Frank, and this time every one of them heard what was undeniably the thud of a horse's hoofs.
But there was a hesitation, an uncertainty about the animal's movements that seemed unusual. It moved as though it had no purpose in view no guiding hand on the reins. At times the canter seemed to subside into a walk. There was something about this unseen steed, at large in the dim forest, that gave the boys a most uncomfortable feeling.
Then suddenly a more resolute note in the sound and an increase in its volume told the listening boys that the horse was coming straight toward them.
The clatter of hoofs drew nearer, and they clutched their guns more tightly.
Soon they were able to distinguish in the gloom the outline of a horse and rider. The man's figure loomed up huge and threatening, and they felt sure that it was the big German corporal for whom they were searching.
The boys waited until the horse was almost upon them and then rushed out into the road.
"Halt!" cried Frank. He seized the horse's rein while the others leveled their rifles at the rider.
The horse reared in fright, but the rider made no answer nor did he attempt to draw a weapon.
"Get down!" commanded Frank. "We've got you covered. Surrender."
Still the rider remained silent.
Frank having quieted the horse went alongside and put his hand on the man's arm.
"Come——" he began, then stopped suddenly.
There was a moment of utter silence, and Frank for the first time in his life could feel the hair rising on his head. Then he controlled himself.
"Put up your rifles boys," he commanded. "The man is dead!"