"Well, if you're a friend, step forward and let us see what you look like," challenged Ned, turning in the direction from whence the strange voice proceeded. "You needn't be afraid to show your face."
"I'm not the one who is afraid," was the reply.
"We're not afraid, if that's what you mean," retorted the lad.
A chuckle from the newcomer was the only response.
"Are you coming forward?" asked Ned in a rather impatient tone, for his experiences of the last few moments had been enough to cause him to be slightly irritable. "I'd like to see you."
As the lad spoke he peered eagerly toward the blackness surrounding himself and his chums. Owing to the faintness of the flame from their small fire, the darkness lying about them like a dense pall was too great for his eyes to pierce. Try as he might, he could not distinguish even the faintest outline of the stranger.
"If you are afraid of the rats or the Germans you might step over this way and we'll go to a more convenient and pleasant place. This isn't a cheerful spot," was the stranger's suggestion.
This invitation was received in silence by the three boys.
"Of course," the other continued, "if you prefer to remain here and talk it over with the rodents, I have no objections."
"Perhaps we would rather take our own way out of here," Ned stated with little friendliness in his voice.
"Perhaps," was the dry response from the utter darkness. "But," went on the stranger, "you'd have a beautiful time doing it. There's only one way out of this place except by the trap door through which you came. Unless you're regular little derricks you can't move all that rubbish piled on top of the trap door, and you'd not be apt to discover the underground exit if you had the eyes of a hawk and an electric light plant besides. Better come along."
Ned had not relaxed his clasp on the hands of his companions, and now drew them closer to him. In a whisper he asked:
"What do you think, boys? Shall we do as he suggests?"
"Might as well," said Jack. "We can't be in much worse case than we are now, and those rats might get good and ugly when they get wise to our being here. I move we follow him."
"Second the motion, unless you've got a better suggestion," added Harry. "This place is getting on my nerves. Let's go."
"I rather feel as if we ought not to go with this fellow unless he's willing to show himself and let us get an idea who he is," Ned stated in a hesitating way. "Perhaps you boys are right, but I don't feel at all easy about it. Maybe he's trying to get us into a trap."
"That's so," agreed Harry. "At least if we remain where we are we'll be no worse off than we would have been without him."
"You're right there," put in Jack, "but on the other hand we're in a bad fix, and Jimmie's outside and needs us. This fellow's coming may be just the chance for escape that we are wanting. Suppose we follow him as he suggests and all the while remember our motto to 'Be Prepared.' Wouldn't that be the proper course?"
"I guess you're right, Jack," Ned said with a sigh. "Perhaps I'm wrong about it. I don't want to overlook a chance to help Jimmie and get back to America. I'll withdraw my objections."
"All right, then, let's get started. Tell him so."
"Are you there?" Ned called out in a louder tone, addressing himself toward the place from which the stranger's voice had come.
"I am for a minute," answered the other. "But I'm going now. If you care to come with me I'll be glad to take you out of here."
"Where will you take us?" asked Ned, reluctant still to follow.
"That's something I cannot say right now. You'll find out."
"All right," consented the boy, starting forward. "But remember," he cautioned, "we shall not relish anything in the way of tricks."
"Suspicious still, I see," laughed the other. "Well, follow this light, and be careful how you step. There may be irregularities in the floor that you'll have to discover for yourselves. It won't be safe to do any talking for a while. The Germans are watchful."
The three boys were startled to observe a circle of light appear upon the stone floor of the apartment at some little distance from the spot where they were standing. It appeared to emanate from an electric searchlight held in the hands of the stranger.
Ned took a step toward the light. Jack and Harry did likewise. Their surprise increased as they observed that the light moved along the floor at a pace about equal to their own.
Ned thought that he could faintly discern the feet of the person carrying the light, but was unable to learn anything of the character of the person. He was torn between his desire to escape from the apartment and the wish to learn the identity of the stranger.
Only a few steps had been taken by the stranger before the light was extinguished. Instantly the three boys halted.
"S-s-sh!" came a warning hiss. "Be mighty careful now of your conversation and your footsteps. Keep as quiet as possible and follow me closely. We are all in extreme danger!"
In spite of his efforts at self-control, Ned's muscles trembled and he found it difficult to walk steadily. Assuming that his chums were in like plight, the lad summoned all his courage and reached out a reassuring hand to the others. The contact with his friends seemed to restore the equilibrium that had been Ned's most valuable asset in times of stress and danger in his many adventures.
Long afterwards the boy declared that in all his experiences that compassed many strange and hazardous enterprises in the United States, Canada, Mexico, the Philippines, China and other countries he had never felt so keenly the need of aid as he did at that moment.
Not for long, however, were the boys permitted to consider the peril of their position. Almost instantly they heard a faint grating sound directly in front of them. A cold draught of damp, musty air struck their faces, and they understood that a door had been opened into some other apartment. The odor of the incoming air told them plainly that the next apartment was also underground, and they surmised that it had not recently been occupied.
"Come!" was the command borne to their ears in the faintest of whispers from the person leading the way.
Unhesitatingly the lads advanced. Jack had taken but a couple of steps before he collided with some solid object. The shock of contact brought forth a grunt of surprise. At the same moment Harry went through a similar experience. Ned met no resistance and nearly lost his hold of the others before he recovered his balance.
"Gee!" Jack whispered, "I've hit a wall!"
"Here, too!" put in Harry, lowering his whisper to a mere breath.
"Single file, lock step," directed Ned.
Jack and Harry fell in behind their Scout Master obediently, and the little party began groping its way along. Ned reached out a hand on either side as he went forward. His hands came in contact with walls that appeared to be made of stone. The dampness had gathered in great drops on the surface. A slime had been deposited that made Ned shudder as he felt it. He knew, however, that this was no time to permit an interruption through squeamishness.
There was now no guiding light in advance, and the boys cautiously picked their way along the stones, with Ned feeling every inch of the way before he set his foot down. Directly the lad heard another warning hiss. This time the sound was closer than formerly.
"Put your hand on my shoulder," came the whispered command.
Ned followed this instruction immediately. He judged by the height to which he raised his hand to rest it upon the other's shoulder that the stranger was a person of about his own build. His sense of touch also told him that the other's clothing was of a material similar to the khaki uniform he himself was wearing. A faint odor of gasoline and grease assailed his nostrils, particularly distinguishable because of the damp air in which the party was traveling.
Suddenly the boys were startled by the sound of an explosion that came faintly to their ears. The earth in their vicinity trembled.
"What's that?" asked Ned in a whisper. "What's going on?"
"Hush!" replied the guide. "The Germans are making some improvements in the town. They are blowing down some dangerous walls. Now keep as quiet as you can and follow me. We'll have to hurry!"
Ned made no further attempt at conversation, but obediently gave his entire attention to following the strange person in advance.
Before the little party had traversed the passage to any considerable distance they heard several other explosions similar to the first. One particularly louder than the others was followed by the sound of small pieces of rock tumbling from the roof and walls of the passage. Ned pressed still closer to his guide, while Jack and Harry needed no urging to make them crowd up to Ned in their impatience.
Not far from the point where the boys had noticed the pieces of rock falling the guide turned a corner abruptly. Ned wondered how he was able in the intense blackness to distinguish so accurately the spot for making the turn, but refrained from making any comment.
As he followed the guide around the corner the lad's foot struck against an object lying on the floor. A metallic ring from the object he had kicked caught the lad's attention. Slipping his hand quickly down the other's back in preparation for a movement to pick up the object, Ned was surprised to come in contact with a belt. He was startled to observe that the belt was filled with cartridges.
Without stopping to comment upon the circumstance, Ned stooped quickly with hand outstretched. His fingers came in contact with the object his foot had struck. He instantly recognized it to be an automatic pistol. Restraining his impulse to cry out, the lad shifted the weapon in his hand to a grip that would permit him to use it in case such a move was necessary. He straightened up at once.
Scarcely had the boys taken another dozen steps before they heard the voices of a number of men, all apparently endeavoring to talk at once and using a language that was unintelligible to the lads.
Greater caution, if possible, was now used by all in their negotiating the dark passage. A few steps farther on carried them past the place where the voices had been heard. Ned breathed a sigh of relief as the voices died away in the distance.
Presently the guide halted. He turned to a position where he could face Ned. Still speaking in a whisper, he said:
"We are not out of danger yet, but I'll thank you to let me have that automatic you picked up back there. It's mine!"
"Come on, now, hand it over," continued the other.
"Where did you get it?" whispered Ned. "Can you prove what you say?"
"Of course I can!" replied the other. "I'm a bird man, and that is part of my equipment. You have no right to it!"
A louder detonation than any they had heard yet drowned Ned's reply. The walls in the passage seemed shaking as if about to fall. From the passage in their rear came shrieks and groans. An odor of sulphur came blowing upon their backs. A crashing and grinding noise filled the air. Jack and Harry closed in upon the others.
"Let's get out of here as quick as we can," urged Ned.
"We're at the end of the passage!" declared the guide. "That blast has probably filled the corridor back of us with rubbish. Unless we can dig a way out of it, we're buried alive!"
Jimmie's momentum carried him toward the camp kettle with such violence that he was unable to check his speed. He could only swerve his course enough to avoid actually falling into the open door through which fuel had been fed. Unfortunately, however, the lad lost his footing and, as he fell, thrust a hand against the hot iron.
"Ow, wow!" yelled Jimmie, as he rolled over the ground, dragging with him the already burning Cossack uniform.
"Here, here!" shouted Otto, rousing from his phlegmatic attitude and springing forward in Jimmie's direction. "Leave dot alone!"
Jimmie rose to his feet nursing his burned hand and casting a glance of extreme disgust toward his new-found friend.
"What business have you got burning up my clothes, I'd like to know!" he indignantly began. "You big sauer kraut eater. You don't seem to know that clothes cost money and that these clothes were presented to me by the Imperial Czar of Russia!"
"Dot makes no difference about dot Russian bizness," answered Otto doggedly; "my orders iss to burn dot uniform, und dot's chust vot I'm going to do. Maybe you would like to watch me."
"Yes, I'll watch you," Jimmie stated aggressively, his face flushing until the freckles were scarcely distinguishable. "You can burn the old uniform as fast as you like, but there is something in it that I want before you start the conflagration."
Otto stretched forth a hand in an effort to wrest the already charred and smoldering garments from The Wolf. He evidently intended to take matters strictly into his own hands and obey orders to the letter, regardless of Jimmie's wishes in the matter.
Jimmie just as resolutely intended to have his own way about the matter, although he had no objection to the ultimate burning of the discarded insignia of the gallant troop he had at one time joined.
Although suffering keenly from the hand that had come in contact with the iron and that would be giving him pain for some time, Jimmie directed his attention to a search of the garments. He thrust his uninjured hand into one pocket after another, frantically groping for some object. Directly he gave a glad shout and withdrew his hand, clutching a small packet from which a loop of heavy cord hung.
Otto had lost some of the zest with which he had been imbued when he first raised an objection to Jimmie's action. His sluggish nature had dominated his movements, and now he moved forward with the ponderous motions of the average German agriculturist, although it was plain to the observers standing about that nothing short of a superior force could deter his progress or swerve him from his course.
"I've got it!" shouted Jimmie gleefully as he grasped the packet and attempted to gather up the scattered garments.
"Yes," put in Otto, in a voice which betokened his rage because his beloved orders had not been obeyed, "you haf got it, und now you will get someting else! I have someting for you right here!"
"You're welcome to the uniform now," was Jimmie's response. "I'm through with the uniform, and I hope with the Russian army."
"Maybe so," stated Otto, growling forth the words in a tone resembling the greeting usually given a tramp by a bulldog, "but you ain't through with the German army, by a long shot!"
"Oh, the German army ain't so much," scorned Jimmie. "I've seen lots of armies that could tie you Dutchmen into knots."
"Yes, they could—not!" derisively put in Otto, with an air that he had evidently picked up during his experience on the north side of Chicago. "You wait; I will show you someting!"
Jimmie's interest in the packet had absorbed his attention to such an extent that he had not noticed the approach of the German, and it was not until Otto's great arms surrounded his form that the boy realized his danger. He had considered Otto merely as a guide, and had not thought it possible for him to act in any other capacity. Now he understood that the German intended to do him bodily harm, if possible. Quickly as the realization of his danger flashed through the boy's active mind, he began to plan a means of escape. He well understood that, struggle as he might, his strength would be far less than that of his antagonist, and he knew that, in order to escape, he must resort to his knowledge of wrestling and boxing.
Although compelled to think and act quickly in the emergency, a recollection of Ned Nestor's training and the drills to which he had subjected his fellow Boy Scouts flashed across Jimmie's vision.
Otto's arms had encircled Jimmie's form and were slowly tightening in a python-like constriction that forced Jimmie's organs upward into his ribs and shut off his heart action. Again Jimmie recalled vividly his experiences in trying to break a "body scissors" on the mat, This time, however, he cast aside the rules of conduct that forbid fouls and determined to free himself at whatever cost.
Otto's surprise at feeling Jimmie's heels gouging up and down his shin was exceeded only by his astonishment at receiving a blow on the chin from Jimmie's red head. Butting in a fight was a part of "the game" that the former newsboy had picked up in his encounters on the Bowery when protecting his corner from other vendors.
Long since discarded, the accomplishment now served Jimmie well, and he used it effectively, not forgetting to keep one foot in action as he industriously pegged away at the foot upon which his heel had first landed. Jimmie believed thoroughly in the old adage that 'continual dropping will wear away a stone.'
Black specks began to float slowly across Jimmie's vision and his breath seemed to have left his body. In place of lungs the boy felt he had only a great raging furnace. His foot began to be heavier and heavier. He was about to give up in despair.
Without warning, Otto released his grasp to fling Jimmie from him as he stepped backward to escape the onslaught of kicks and blows from Jimmie's active head. As he released the boy he aimed a vicious swing that would have done a great deal of damage had it landed.
Luckily for the red-headed Uhlan, his feet became tangled in the remnants of the discarded and partly burned uniform that had been the innocent cause of the battle. Just as Otto aimed the blow at Jimmie's head the boy stumbled and fell backward.
There flashed to the lad's mind the thought that the Russian uniform had been the means of saving him from a most unwelcome hurt.
Perhaps one of Jimmie's most lovable qualities was the ability to see and appreciate a joke, no matter what the time or circumstances. This quality so dominated the lad that his comrades often declared he would laugh at his own expense even when he was hungry. Just now he was so impressed with the absurdity of the uniform's being the cause of his trouble and the means of his escape that he laughed aloud.
Unnoticed by either of the contestants, a considerable number of the cooks and "kitchen police" had gathered to witness the difficulty between the two. These bystanders now offered words of encouragement in an effort to prolong the battle. It seemed that the dominating spirit of battle had not been satisfied during the several days of awful history-making struggle between the armies around the stricken city. The bloodlust was strong in their souls.
Jimmie heard their cries, although he could not distinguish the words they used, nor could he have understood them had he done so. He realized that Otto would probably hear and understand, and that for very shame, if for no other reason, the other man would return to the conflict. He therefore drew a deep breath and braced himself for the expected advance. Something warm and wet seemed to be trickling down over Jimmie's face. He put up a hand to wipe it away. The hand came away wet and sticky. To Jimmie's astonishment the hand was red.
A roar of rage assailed his ears, and Jimmie turned just in time to duck under a mighty swing. Angered at the persistence displayed, Jimmie let fly a stinging hook that fell short of its intended mark. Instead of landing on Otto's chin, as he had purposed, Jimmie flung his fist full upon the "Adam's apple" of his antagonist, bringing forth a gurgling squawk that afforded merriment to the bystanders.
He lost no time in following up his advantage. Quickly springing forward, he landed a shower of blows, each one in a telling spot about Otto's head. The lad's ire was fully roused, and he entered into the matter of administering punishment with a zest.
Handicapped by his lighter weight, the boy could not hope successfully to cope with the burly German on anything like an equal footing, and consequently determined to press the advantage to the utmost, hence he wasted no blows, but made every one count.
Eager to administer what he considered ample punishment, yet wary and cautious, the lad gave his entire attention to his effort. He was looking for an opening through which he might slip a "knockout," and gave no heed to the events transpiring about him. Hence he did not notice the approach of a small party of officers until he felt a hand laid heavily upon his shoulder and a voice spoke in his ear.
"So, this is the way my soldiers behave when I am not present!" Jimmie heard the man say. He turned to gaze at the newcomer.
"Captain von Liebknecht!" he gasped in utter amazement.
"The same," replied the officer who had first interviewed Jimmie in the partly ruined house. "It seems to me," he went on in a severe tone, his pale blue eyes narrowing to mere points, "that my recruits might be in better business than trying to spoil my veterans!"
For a moment Jimmie forgot to be respectful. The old spirit of Bowery repartee, so long held in leash and thoroughly muzzled by Ned Nestor's training and Jimmie's own self-control, had broken bonds, and now showed itself upon the surface without restraint.
"You can't spoil a bad egg, Captain!" was the impertinent response. "This fool Dutchman got too gay and I just put him into the clear!"
"Silence!" roared von Liebknecht. "No reply is necessary."
"Well, I made one just the same," was Jimmie's undaunted retort.
"So I observe," remarked the officer, "and for that you shall be punished. It shall be my pleasant duty to see that you get your full share of regular work, and in addition I shall assign you to the delightful position of assisting the police detail."
"But I'm not big enough to be a policeman," objected Jimmie.
A smile spread over the face of the officer as he observed:
"That is your misfortune, not mine. If you had been so fortunate as to be a German, you would have been much bigger and perhaps more respectful. You will please remember in future to be at least civil."
Jimmie began to realize that it would not be to his advantage to continue the conversation, especially in the spirit already shown. He therefore drew himself up to his full height and gravely saluted, using the well-known Boy Scout form, with thumb and little finger touching and the other three fingers extended vertically, palm outward.
The action seemed to please von Liebknecht immensely, although he would not alter his decision in the least. A rapidly spoken order to an aide standing near resulted in Jimmie's being hurried away in the direction of the camp where the Uhlans' horses were quartered.
He thought he saw the wings of an aeroplane resting in an open space. Forms were moving about the plane. Jimmie started.
The lad began moving his arms as if stretching himself or going through a sort of setting-up exercise. Again and again he repeated the movements. A smile lighted the freckled face.
"Good night!" ejaculated Harry, as the guide finished speaking. "You certainly have got us into a tight box now!"
"That's what I say," put in Jack, "you're a fine one!"
"Let me have your searchlight," commanded Ned, retaining his grasp on the other's cartridge belt, "hand it over quickly."
"I'll run the searchlight myself," declared the unknown in a crisp tone. "You've got my gun and I guess that's enough!"
"Yes, and I know how to use it, too," replied Ned.
"There, there, Ned, this isn't any time to start arguing," urged Jack, pacifically, "let's get out of here first of all."
"Second the amendment," laughed Ned, controlling himself with a slight effort, "I've got this fellow dead to rights, and if he will only help us with his searchlight, we will try to get outside quickly."
"Well, he's going to help us," volunteered Harry. "I'll see to that. Just notice this big rock I am holding."
"Don't get excited, hoys," urged the stranger. "I'm doing everything I can to get all of us out of this mess. Our troubles all came about simply because of the fact that we were not 'Prepared.'"
"Then you believe in being prepared?" asked Jack.
"That's my motto—'Be Prepared'!" answered the stranger.
"That's our motto, also," put in Harry eagerly. "I wonder where you got that motto. You don't talk like the United States."
"Huh! I should say not!" declared the other. "But I came from a place that is every bit as good as the United States," he added.
"There's only one place that I know of," stated Ned emphatically, "that answers that description. What part of Canada are you from?"
"Vancouver," was the ready response. "Do you know the place?"
"Well, we ought to. We put in some time in British Columbia chasing a man who robbed the United States government."
"Good," declared the stranger. "My name is Gilmore—David Gilmore. I belong to the Moose Patrol of Vancouver."
"Dave, for short, I suppose," put in Jack in a more friendly tone.
"To my friends—yes," answered David with a short laugh.
"Now, boys," began Ned, "if it's agreeable, I suggest—"
A shriek of agony cut short the suggestion Ned was about to make. By common consent the boys drew closer together as the awful sound echoed through the narrow confines of the low tunnel in which they were imprisoned. All thoughts of introductions were driven instantly from their minds, to be replaced by their desire to render aid.
"The searchlight, Dave," said Ned quickly, falling naturally into the use of the shortened appellation. "Let's make haste."
A circle of flame from the searchlight in David's hand was his reply to this request. It fell upon the damp, slimy walls of the tunnel, illuminating a small space in their immediate neighborhood. The boy swung the searchlight to a position where it would give them a view of the area through which they had just come.
An appalling sight met their eyes. The explosion had wrecked the roof and sides of the narrow space. Heaps of broken rock and other debris choked the passage. Beneath one of the lumps projected the feet of a man. Beyond that the boys could dimly see the forms of one or two others. It seemed that several men had been unfortunately caught.
"Where did that fellow come from?" queried Ned anxiously, pointing toward the feet of the luckless individual who was screaming in agony.
"I don't know," Jack stated briefly, "but we'll help him out."
"All right, boys; let's get busy," urged Harry.
No further suggestions were needed to enlist the aid of all four boys. As they moved forward, their progress somewhat hindered by fallen rocks, the cries grew fainter and presently ceased.
As they reached the spot where the man lay imprisoned, David thrust the searchlight to a favorable position, where it would show them the face of the stranger. He knelt but a moment. Rising again to his feet, the lad turned to his new-found companions.
"I guess we're too late, boys," he said in a hushed voice.
"That's too bad," said Ned sympathetically. "I'm sorry."
"What shall we do?" questioned Jack. "Can't we help him at all?"
David shook his head sadly. He again swung the searchlight around the place, examining the walls carefully as he did so.
"I'm sure that it's no use, boys," he said. "If the fellow had not been beyond help he would not have stopped crying out. In such a time as this, heartless though it may seem, we'll have to look out for ourselves without spending energy on those beyond help."
"You're right, I guess," agreed Ned sadly. "I heartily wish that we were all back in America again, beyond the influence of this awful war. I sincerely hope that it will be confined to Europe."
"I echo your sentiment," said David. "And now," he added briskly, "let us give our attention to getting out of this place. I wonder if we can move some of these looser stones and get through into the room beyond. We may be able to get out to the street that way."
"What do you know about the layout of this place?" asked Jack.
"We are now under one of the big buildings—I should say under the ruins of one of the big buildings of Peremysl. It got struck by shells during the early part of the engagement and was neglected after that. The men we heard were refugees from the Russian army who thought they would be able to appear after the German occupation and do some damage to the invaders. They were well equipped with supplies of various sorts, including ammunition, and intended to get out to-night."
"I wonder if they have all gone?" asked Jack.
"I suppose the most of them are dead," answered David. "And we may join them unless we get out. Our chances look slim."
"I don't know about that," objected Ned. "I notice that the smell of powder is not so pronounced as it was a while ago. The air in here seems much better than it did before the explosion, and I believe that somewhere a passage has been opened which permits the air to flow in. It seems to me I can smell sweet air."
"I believe you're right, Ned," declared Harry sniffing.
"Let's get at these stones, then," suggested Jack, suiting the action to the word, and beginning to lift away lighter pieces of rock from the heap that confronted the lads.
All the boys took hold eagerly and began the task of removing the barrier that prevented their exit. They took turns holding the searchlight upon the work. Presently Jack announced that he could see light through the crevices between the stones. This announcement was hailed joyfully by the others.
"Hurrah!" announced Harry gleefully, as he pushed a piece of rock forward, opening a space wide enough to penult him to thrust an arm through. "One more chunk out of here and we can get through."
In another moment the four boys stood erect in a space that had formerly been a cellar. They drew deep draughts of air into their lungs and looked up beyond ruined walls to see the sky overhead.
"That looks good to me," stated Ned, pointing upward.
"Here too!" put in David. "Now I can get a good look at you fellows and will be able to recognize you readily the next time I see you. My," he added, "you are Boy Scouts, too."
"Why, of course," said Ned in astonishment. "What did you think we were? I hope you didn't take us for soldiers."
"Well, not exactly," said David, smiling, "but I really didn't have time to form a definite opinion before I heard that you were captured. Would you like to get back to your plane?" he asked.
"Would we?" asked Jack in a tone expressive of his intense longing for the Eagle. "You are just right, we would!"
"Perhaps we can manage to make it if the Germans have not taken it away," suggested David. "I can't say for sure, but we can try."
"Let's be on our way, then," urged Harry, eager to start.
"Suppose we look about and look for something to eat," suggested Ned. "I'm beginning to appreciate Jimmie's feelings."
"I hope you're not hungry already?" laughed Jack, "Why," he added, "you had something to eat no longer ago than—"
"Yes, no longer ago than the last time we ate," interrupted Harry. "You may not believe it, but I'm getting so hungry I could eat anything."
"All right; call the waiter, then, and we'll all eat."
"Perhaps I can find something," volunteered David. "I know where the Russians kept most of their stores. They had a place over here at one side of this big space filled with things to eat and shoot and so on. They had a lot of stuff in there."
"Where do you suppose they have all gone?" asked Ned, glancing about.
"I rather imagine they have gotten away as fast as they could after the Germans began blowing down the tottering walls. Those fellows we saw back there in the tunnel were possibly trying to get away by that route," replied David. "I intended bringing you here when we left the cellar where the rats were. I thought the way was clear."
"How did you happen to be there?" asked Ned.
"I got tired of being a prisoner," answered David. "Naturally, when the chance offered, I just slipped into the passage and started. I counted my steps to the end and found I must go the other way. When I had reached the cellar where you were I was exploring it when I heard the noise overhead. I just stayed in the dark until you made a light."
"Then you thought you'd help us out?" asked Harry.
"Yes," was the reply. "I felt that you needed a guide, and I had to do one good turn a day, you know. I thought that would be one."
"Sure, we know," Harry stated in a low voice. "I guess that was pretty nearly three good turns, wasn't it, Ned?"
"We'll count it as three, anyhow," responded Ned heartily.
"Now, you're hungry," interrupted David, rather loath to hear his own praises. "Come over this way and we'll see what we can find."
As David had predicted, the boys found a smaller room opening off the large one in which they were gathered. There was a miscellaneous collection of articles comprising food, ammunition, arms and many other things. They at once attacked the food supply.
Harry gleefully announced the discovery of a can of beef from Chicago, while Jack went into ecstacies over a can of beans.
Without the loss of a moment the boys fell to and soon satisfied their hunger. Directly Jack began searching amongst the goods.
"Where did they store their water?" he asked David.
"I don't know that," replied the boy. "What is in that barrel?"
"Nothing but gasoline, judging by the smell," replied Jack.
"Hurrah!" shouted Ned, springing to his feet. "Just the thing!"
"Not to drink!" objected Jack scornfully. "Not for me, anyway!"
"No, but fine for the Eagle if we can get it there and find the plane still in working order. Let's hope they haven't taken it away."
"Let's go see," suggested David. "We can take along some of this gasoline in some of these empty tins and cans."
"You're a brick!" announced Jack. "I'm beginning to like you!"
Scrambling over the wreckage and ruins of the building, the four boys, each bearing a vessel with gasoline, gained the street. They turned a corner and passed along apparently unnoticed. In a short time they stood in the vacant space where the Eagle had landed.
Before them the planes loomed large. Ned almost shouted for joy.
"There are soldiers on that hill over there!" announced Jack.
"One of them has gone crazy or something," said Harry, pointing.
"That's Boy Scout semaphore signals!" declared David.
"Answer him, Ned," suggested Jack. "Maybe he means us."
"He's spelling 'Wolf' in American," stated Ned. "Here comes more."
"Right arm above head, left horizontal—that's 'J,'" said David. "Right diagonally down, left across chest—that's 'I;' right diagonally down, left horizontal—that's 'M;' he repeats it; he repeats 'I;' right down in front, left up diagonally—that's 'E.'"
"That spells 'Jimmie!'" cried Harry in excitement.
For a time Jimmie forgot the drudgery to which he had been sentenced as a result of his fight with Otto for possession of the tiny packet concealed in the Cossack uniform. Forgotten were the multiplicity of duties incident to his service as a member of the "kitchen police"—the work to which all offenders in the army were subjected, and which corresponded to the tasks of a garbage collector.
Apparently the lad was devoting himself wholly to the strenuous labor of calisthenics. There seemed to be no idea in his mind of making any certain motion a given number of times for the purpose of developing different muscles. Instead he merely placed his arms in various positions and held them there a moment before assuming a different attitude. Seldom did he repeat any motion.
We know, of course, that he had seen the boys as they emerged from the underground cavern that nearly proved their tomb. He had taken a chance on their being his comrades and had made signals to attract their attention. When he received an answering wave of the arm from Ned he delightedly began sending a message by means of the well-known semaphore code. Although the lad possessed no flags or other means of carrying out fully the code as prescribed, he did the best he could with only his arms for signals. We know that Ned and his chums were able correctly to interpret the message Jimmie was sending.
"Great frozen hot boxes!" mused the boy half aloud. "They are down there among the ruins. I wonder how they got free of the searching party. Things have been coming pretty fast for me lately, and I declare I clean forgot the others. Wonder what they'll do."
He had not long to wait. Directly he saw Ned and the others consulting beside the aeroplane. The next moment Ned had stepped clear of the machine and began waving his arms after the same fashion adopted by Jimmie when he spelled out his own name.
"There he goes!" declared Jimmie to himself. "There he is making the letter 'C.' There comes 'A,' and next is 'N.' That is 'Can.' Now here comes 'U;' 'Can You.' Here is 'G,' 'E,' 'T.' 'Can You Get—.' Now he says 'A,' 'W,' 'A,' 'Y.' That's 'Away.' Can I get away? Not very handy with all these Germans about. Guess I'll have to tell him something myself. Here goes."
Accordingly Jimmie began a reply in the same code. He briefly informed Ned that he understood the regiment was to go west, probably to Verdun, where Jimmie had heard that heavy fighting was taking place. He also stated that he was unable to escape in daylight, but that he would try to do so after nightfall.
In response to this wig-wagging Ned began to give directions for their co-operation in an attempt at escape by Jimmie, when suddenly he discerned a soldier creeping up behind his red-headed friend.
Instantly he gave the well-known danger signal and tried to tell Jimmie that someone was near. For some strange reason the lad failed to comprehend the information given, and not until it was too late did he realize that it was himself who was in danger.
Intently watching Ned and trying to interpret the signals being made by the older boy, Jimmie did not observe the footsteps of the approaching soldier. Suddenly he felt an arm thrown about his neck. He was drawn irresistably backward by the strong arm that shut off his wind nearly to the choking point.
With all the energy in his lithe young body the lad tried to kick and strike at his unseen antagonist, but his efforts were unavailing.
For what seemed to the lad countless years the vise-like grasp was maintained upon his windpipe. He began to understand that his struggles were useless, and spent his entire energy in an effort to stiffen the cords of his neck, hoping to assist his breathing by so doing. Presently, as he ceased his struggles, the soldier who had so skillfully captured him set the lad upon his feet.
"So," began the soldier, "think you that we understand not the fact that you are but a spy and that information you are giving to your friends in the city? Yes. It is indeed so."
Jimmie's only reply was a wrinkling of his freckled nose in a grimace of extreme disgust and contempt. Even had he been so minded, the condition of his wrenched neck and strained muscles prevented sprightly conversation. He winked rapidly to clear his tear-filled eyes, and indulged in another wrinkling of the nose.
"So," continued the other, paying no heed to Jimmie's motions of contempt. "And this is why we have not had better success in our campaign. We must fight not only the enemy in their trenches, but we must also contend with traitors in our own camps!"
"Who's a traitor?" demanded Jimmie in a belligerent tone.
"Your name I know not," answered the soldier, "but the red hair and the active nose, with its habit of turning up toward the sky, would be identification enough without a name. I need no name."
"Well, you haven't any name so far as I know," was the lad's impertinent response. "And I don't want to get acquainted with you."
"The subject we will not change," was the cool rejoinder of the German. "We just now are discussing your giving information to the other Russian spies down there in the city. You will not need a name after to-morrow, or possibly after this evening, if Herr Captain von Liebknecht is as zealous in the service of the Kaiser as he has been. If I were giving orders, you would be shot now."
"Well," began Jimmie, pursuing the subject, "I'm not shot yet and you're not shot, but in the language of the little old United States you certainly act like a fellow just about half-shot."
"Half-shot?" inquired the German in a puzzled manner. "How can a man be half-shot? He would then be only kerwundete."
"You and I are getting on famously, Old Man," Jimmie observed, half laughing. "From all appearances you'd like to stand me up against a wall at sunrise and I'd like to see you in Halifax."
"Halifax?" queried the soldier. "You speak of strange places."
"Well, all right," Jimmie replied. "I guess we'd better be going now, so I'll get my bucket from the place where I dumped its contents into the ditch and we will go back to camp. I hold no resentment against you for your harsh treatment of me, especially since you weigh just about three times as much as I do."
"The bucket will do well enough where it is," came the answer in a low tone, cold as ice. "Just now you will appear before the Captain. Do you not know you are under arrest?"
"Under arrest?" puzzled Jimmie. "Who's pinching me?"
"Ach! Ach!" protested the soldier, raising his hands in a gesture of despair. "What a strange person! What a strange language!"
"You're quite right there," Jimmie said, "and if I had my way we'd be stranger still. Yes," he added, "I think we'd be still strangers. That would just about suit me to perfection."
"Come on, now," the German ordered, with a trace of impatience tinging his phlegmatic manner. "Long enough we have waited."
"I'm willing," said Jimmie, turning upon his heel. "We might as well get the trouble off our minds. If I'm to be shot for keeps I hope they'll do it soon and do a good job while they're at it."
Although the boy's manner was light and buoyant enough to deceive even the experienced and hardened Uhlan who had constituted himself captor, his heart was heavy, for he well understood the danger of his position. He could hope for little nursing from the peculiar German minds with which he had to cope. Appearances certainly were against him, and he knew that the evidence would be taken only at face value.
Resolved, however, to make the most of a bad bargain, the boy resolutely forced a smile to his freckled face and bore himself erect and with apparent fearlessness as the two neared camp.
No time was lost by the soldier who had Jimmie in charge. He went directly to the spot where Captain von Liebknecht's tent was pitched. A sentry paced up and down the narrow limits of his beat, carrying his rifle in the prescribed position. In accordance with regulations, he was equipped with his full outfit, including a vicious looking sword bayonet and bandoliers of cartridges that gave forth a silent message which to Jimmie's troubled mind spelled a most gloomy and forbidding prospect for the immediate future.
A challenge from the sentry halted the pair until the necessary questions and answers could be exchanged. Upon being convinced that Jimmie's conductor had an urgent message for the Captain, the sentry ordered them to remain where they were while he hailed the guard stationed inside the tent. To this individual the sentry explained the reason for the visit and the request for an interview.
Jimmie was not left long in doubt. Almost instantly, it seemed, the guard returned and, after exchanging a few words in a low tone with the sentry, beckoned for the soldier and the lad to follow.
He led the way into the tent, raising the flap for Jimmie and his captor to pass. More than ever the lad felt his appellation of The Wolf was well deserved. It seemed to him that circumstances were conspiring to make him seem to the Germans a predatory animal, and while he would have been willing and was even anxious to dispel this notion from their minds, he well understood that nothing he could do or say would be of effect in this direction. Feeling keenly the need of most careful handling of the situation, Jimmie glanced quickly and furtively about the tent. He was somewhat surprised to observe there a number of officers of the regiment apparently in conference.
A number of papers, amongst them maps, was spread upon the little table in the center of the tent. Captain von Liebknecht had patently been directing certain movements of troops, using the maps to further explain his instructions. Jimmie's entrance had interrupted the Captain's action of tracing with his finger the line of railroad leading from Peremysl, or Przemysl, as it must henceforth be known.
As the Captain raised his eyes to observe who his visitors might be, Jimmie let his glance fall to the map, where he saw the finger pointing at the town designated as Cracow.
In a flash the boy realized that von Liebknecht had been giving instructions for the transportation of troops by rail, and that Cracow would be the next stopping point, where he guessed that the horses would be detrained for water and rest if possible.
Mentally making a note of this fact, Jimmie raised his glance fearlessly to meet the cold blue eyes of the German officer. In that glance Jimmie comprehended the fact that he could expect little mercy from a man whose whole ambition in life seemed to be unquestioning and unwavering devotion to his Emperor. He read also in the blue eyes craft and skill in diplomacy and a keen intelligence withal.
"Captain," began the soldier who had brought Jimmie to the tent, "this Cossack has been giving information to his Russian friends."
Jimmie detected without any difficulty the implied sneer in the term "Cossack," but forebore making any reply on the instant.
"So?" observed von Liebknecht. "Again? Must we always be troubled at critical times with this wonderful recruit?"
As none of the group seemed able to reply, silence was the only response. The Captain let his glance wander about from one to another of his aides. His eyes rested for a moment upon the countenance of a member of the group apparently older than the others.
An almost imperceptible shake of the head answered the questioning glance. For some reason The Wolf felt a sense of relief.
"What have you to say for yourself, young man?" asked the Captain.
"I guess I said enough before I enlisted," answered Jimmie.
"Yet you have now some secret information," demanded the other.
"No, sir," protested the lad in wide-eyed amazement.
"No?" queried von Liebknecht in his accustomed level tones. "Then what is it you have in that little packet you took from the Cossack uniform at so great a cost as a burned hand?" he added.
Involuntarily Jimmie's hand clutched at his breast.