Shut in on all sides by the fog, ankle deep in the mud, Corporal Jimmy Blaise and Private Bixton were locked in a savage grip, from which one of them fought desperately to free himself. Bixton had no will to fight—he wanted to run. Once clear of his hated antagonist, he could dash off into the blackness, and defy pursuit. Only one man stood between him and liberty. He had risked too much already to endure defeat and capture. Hemustbreak away.
Jimmy was as fully determined in an opposite direction. Reckless disregard for himself had caused him to act with his usual impetuosity. He had reached the door just in time to see Bixton about to swing off the train. In the next instant he had followed his quarry. Luckily for him, the force of Bixton’s descent had sent him sprawling in the mud, for an instant stunned. Had the train been going at full speed,he must undoubtedly have been killed. Jimmy, on the contrary, had landed on his feet like a cat. Turning instantly, he ran back to where Bixton was just picking himself up.
With a hoarse shout of triumph, Jimmy leaped upon Bixton and slammed him back to earth. Simultaneously with the onslaught, Bixton’s brain began to act. His long, wiry arms flung about Jimmy, he put his full strength into use. Over and over in the mud they rolled, neither able to gain the advantage.
It was a sickening struggle, calculated to wear out both combatants in short order. The collapse of one meant the supremacy of the other. Evenly matched in sheer brute strength, it soon became a test of which could endure longest.
Forced by the growing knowledge that he was beginning to weaken, Jimmy came into a last fierce rush of strength that tore him free of that devastating hold. Before Bixton could rise, Jimmy was upon him like a whirlwind, striking ferociously in the dark. His first blow landed full on the deserter’s chest, eliciting from him a deep groan. It was followed by a rain of blows planted with all the strength that Jimmy had left in him. Nor did his arm cease to descend until it began to dawn upon him that he was having things all his own way. He had won; knocked out Bixton. Perhaps he had killed the man. He hoped not. If he had—— Jimmy slid off his foe’s motionless body, and gropedin his trousers’ pocket for his flashlight. It had no doubt been wrecked, he thought. He found it, fumbled it over in the dark. A white light sprang into being. Turning it directly on Bixton, Jimmy proceeded to make investigation.
He finally raised up with a relieved sigh. Bixton was breathing. Now came the question of what to do next. Bixton would have to be put past the power of doing further fighting that night. Perhaps he was, already. Jimmy intended to take no chances as to that. Bixton must be tied. But with what? Hastily rising, Jimmy went through his pockets, producing two handkerchiefs. Studying for a moment, he bent down and turned Bixton over. With one handkerchief he bound the man’s hands tightly behind his back, with a secureness that was warranted to hold. This finally done, he again paused to consider.
His money belt next went to decorate Bixton. Of soft, pliable leather, he managed with some difficulty to tie it about Bixton’s neck, allowing sufficient laxity for breathing, but that was all. Tearing the other handkerchief diagonally across, he knotted it together, twisted it into a rope, and knotted one end of it around the belt. Now he had a halter by which he purposed to lead Bixton, provided he was able to walk. It would not be a pleasant business, but it was the only way. All he could now do was to await the awakening of his captive.
That awakening took place about ten minutes after Jimmy had concluded his preparations. It began with moans, was succeeded by indistinct mutterings, and ended in a volley of curses, as Bixton endeavored to sit up, only to find that something peculiar had happened to his arms. Promptly getting behind him, Jimmy helped him to his feet, not forgetting to obtain a good grip on the improvised halter.
“Now listen to me, you deserter,” he began sternly, still behind his man. “I’ve got you where I want you. You can’t get away from me. If you try to you’ll only succeed in shutting off your own wind. So don’t start anything. I’ve put your arms out of business, too. You’ve still got a pair of legs, though, and you’re going to use ’em. We’re going to start now for somewhere. You’ll be ahead and I’ll be about two feet behind you, treading on your heels. We’ll follow the railroad track until we get to some place where I can hand you over as a deserter. But before we start you’re going to tell me a few things.”
Bixton’s only reply was a series of violent jerks that soon ceased. Half-strangled by his efforts, and still groggy from his recent punishment, he soon ceased struggling, and stood still.
“Thank you.” Jimmy’s voice quivered with irony. “Now I guess we’re ready for our talk. First, where did you get that list of poisons, and that bottle of powdered glass that you putin Schnitzel’s suitcase? I know you stole our letters, and put ’em with the other stuff.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t lie. You do know. Answer me with the truth.” Jimmy jerked the halter.
“Stop that! Do you want to kill me?”
“You won’t die. Don’t worry about that. Now tell me quick, or I’ll repeat my little halter stunt.” Realizing that he had a coward, as well as a villain to deal with, Jimmy pretended a cold-bloodedness which he did not feel. He had no desire to do Bixton personal injury. He was merely set on wringing a confession from him.
“I don’t know anything about a poison list,” quavered Bixton. “I pounded up the glass myself, and put it in that Fritzie’s suitcase for a joke. I took your letters to get even with you. I kept ’em till I got a chance to stick ’em onto Schnitz when they’d raise a fuss.”
“It’s a pretty streaked joke that will put a man in prison on a murder charge. Anyway, you’ve admitted it. You’ll do it again as soon as we get to where you can make a full confession and sign it. After that you can answer to a charge for deserting from the Service. Now, Forward March, and remember I’m right with you. The track’s straight ahead.”
It is difficult for one man, wholly unimpeded, to travel sure-footedly in the darkness. A journey such as Jimmy made that night, in company with Bixton, he regarded ever afterwardas the supreme feat of his military career. The night wore on, and the fog lifted, but still that strangely assorted pair tramped the ties, stepping off twice to let trains go by them, which Jimmy vainly hailed. Toward five o’clock the myriad lights of a large town began to gleam ahead of them. Traveling with such painful slowness, Jimmy had no idea of how far they had walked. Neither did he care. All he wanted was to reach some place where he could rid himself of his detested captive.
It was half-past five when they entered the railroad yards of the town. Dawn just beginning to show in the east, their first encounter was with a railroad policeman who stood transfixed in the middle of a yawn at sight of them.
“Hello, there!” hailed Jimmy. “I need you. This fellow is a deserter. He was on the way to Camp Abbott and jumped the train. I jumped after him and nailed him.”
“It’s a lie,” shrieked Bixton. “He’s the deserter. It’s the other way round. He deserted and I jumped off after him. We had a fight and he nailed me. I——”
“I’m Corporal Blaise from Camp Sterling.” Jimmy pointed to the insignia on his sleeve.“I was sent to help conduct a detachment of men to Camp Abbott. What I want to do is to turn this man over to you, so that I can telegraph my K. O. After that he has a confession to make that I want taken down before proper authorities and signed.”
“You’re a pretty smart Sammy.” The policeman viewed Jimmy with admiration. “Now you just let me handle this. I’ll run this yellow dog in while you go and get cleaned up and do your telegraphing. You’d better take time to eat a bite, too. Afterward you take a hike up to Station House No. 10. It’s about three blocks from here. You can find it. That’s where this un’s going on the jump. Some harness you put on him! Guess you give him a mud bath and took one yourself. You’re a good ’un, blessed if you ain’t.”
“Oh, I’m not so much.” Jimmy grinned, his face flushing under its liberal coating of mud. “Well, I’m going to beat it. So long.”
Heading on a run for the nearby railroad station, Jimmy felt in a pocket and fished up the little wad of notes he had extracted from his money belt before decorating Bixton with it. Entering the station telegraph office, he sent his message.
“Guess that’ll give ’em a surprise at headquarters,” he reflected as he left the telegraph office. “It’s been some night and it’s going to be some day. A fine, peaceful, quiet Sunday at that. I’ll have to stay here, I guess, until I’m told what to do next. But, oh, boy! Wait till I get back to Sterling!”
Meanwhile at Camp Sterling, Saturday and Sunday passed uneventfully for Jimmy’s bunkies. Following Retreat on Monday afternoon Bob was called to the company post-office to sign for and receive a special delivery letter. He rushed back to barracks in a state of jubilant excitement. Calling Iggy and Roger to him, he read it to them just above a whisper. It was from his newspaper friend in Chicago. He had gone out to look up Eldridge on the same day he had received the letter. It had been no trouble to gather information concerning the man. He had gone straight to the given address, and inquired for Eldridge, pretending to be an old acquaintance who had lost track of him. He had been received by the man’s sister and by adroit questioning he had learned much. Eldridge, it seemed, had been a prescription clerk in a drug store until shortly before his enlistment.
Obtaining the name of the druggist from the sister, he had later that day visited the store and learned that Eldridge had been discharged by his employer for reasons which the druggist declined to state. He characterized Eldridge as a sneak and unreliable. The writer of the letter ended by saying that he hoped the data would be of use to Bob in helping to clear Schnitzel.
“I’ve found out now the thing I wanted to know most. It’s a safe bet that Eldridge furnished the poison list. A prescription clerk would of course understand a lot about poisons and their effects. He’d be pretty sure to know typing, too. Most medicine labels are typed.”
“What shall you do about it?” asked Roger. “Put it up to Eldridge he’ll just deny it.”
“I shan’t stop at him. I’m going to the K. O. after mess to-night. What I’ve discovered isn’t much but it may help some.He’llsend for Eldridge and maybe get out of him what I couldn’t. I’m going out now to get a paper before every last one of ’em is gobbled up.”
So saying, Bob tucked his letter into his pocket, grabbed his hat and hurried off to the canteen. Stopping to glance at the newspaper he had just purchased, he vented a wild whoop, waved it over his head and raced for barracks.
“Oh, Glory! Blazes has done it!” he caroled, regardless of the noise he was making.“Just listen to this: ‘Corporal Blaise Leaps Off a Moving Train after Deserter.’Whatdo you think of that? Oh, you Blazes!” Bob pranced about, flapping the paper.
“What’s the latest?” called a man from across the squad room. “Has Bill committed suicide?”
“Not yet. Come over and bring your friends. This is too good to keep.”
Two minutes afterward, surrounded by curious soldiers, Bob read to them the story of Bixton’s attempt to desert, and of the star part Jimmy had played in his capture. What elicited a fresh volley of astonished ejaculations from the listeners, however, was: “Bixton has also confessed to the placing of a bottle of powdered glass in the suitcase of Private Franz Schnitzel, the Camp Sterling alleged poisoner, who is now awaiting trial for the murder of two of his comrades. Schnitzel was on kitchen detail when the tragedy occurred. The bottle of powdered glass and a list of poisons found in his suitcase linked him so suspiciously with the poisoning as to cause his arrest. Bixton confessed to having done this to be revenged on Schnitzel for past wrongs at the hands of the latter. He denied, however, all knowledge of the list of poisons.”
Call to mess cut the rest of the reading short.
Leaving his precious paper and mess kit with Roger, Bob set sail for headquarters the moment he had finished eating. There he was obliged to wait some time as Major Stearns,being only human, was at dinner, a fact which Bob had not stopped to consider. Eventually he was ushered into the presence of the K. O. and proceeded to regale the major with a story that continually brought the K. O.’s favorite “Humph!” to his lips. When he had finished he went back to barracks well pleased, leaving the letter from his Chicago friend in the major’s possession.
Surprise, however, had not run the gamut for that night. Shortly before Tattoo a guard detail marched into Company E squad room and arrested Eldridge. The latter was undoubtedly more surprised than anyone else. In reading the account of his bunkie’s downfall he had been signally relieved to find that he had not been implicated in the suitcase tangle. He was confident that Bixton would never betray him and thus believed himself quite safe.
What greatly interested the three Khaki Boys was how soon Schnitzel would be freed. They were fairly sure that Eldridge would not stand out long against the grilling he was due to receive. Add his confession to Bixton’s and it left no more evidence against Schnitzel than there had been against the rest of the kitchen detail held at the time of the poisoning and afterward exonerated of all suspicion. It was, as Bob joyfully declared, “a safe bet” that “Schnitz” would soon be back in barracks with “a smiling face and a clean record.”
Vindicated at the eleventh hour by the confessions of Bixton and Eldridge, Franz Schnitzel returned to barracks completely exonerated of the crime of poisoning his comrades. Bixton and Eldridge both underwent speedy trial by a court martial. Bixton was charged with desertion and conspiracy, and sentenced to several years in a Federal prison, while Eldridge escaped with a year. As an accomplice of Bixton in the matter of the suitcase affair, he was deemed equally guilty of conspiracy.
During the first week or two after his return to his company, Schnitzel showed a depth of gratitude toward the four Brothers that only one who had been so long in the shadow could exhibit to those who had led him back into the sunshine. As time went on, however, he relapsed into his old taciturn ways. He took to prowling about by himself seeming almost toresent the Khaki Boys’ kindly invitations to accompany them on their little adventures about camp or to Tremont or Glenwood.
In fact Schnitzel showed a decided predilection for the society of a Cuban, named Fernando, who lived in Company E’s adjoining barrack. Fernando was a man who had almost as little to say as had Schnitzel. Though not a citizen of the United States he had enlisted shortly before the four Khaki Boys had come to Camp Sterling. At the time of the poisoning he had been on kitchen detail also and, soon after Schnitzel’s release, the German-American had struck up a friendship with him.
“I no like him, that Koobain,” Ignace frequently protested to his bunkies. “Never I see why Schnitzel go by him all time. He no good.”
Growing distrust of Fernando prompted Iggy to poke about in the discreet wake of Schnitzel and the Cuban. His frequent absences from barracks in the evening occasioned a good deal of curious comment on the part of his bunkies.
One night as they discussed this Iggy was hiking along through a fine rain after his quarry. He had followed Schnitzel out of barracks and seen him meet Fernando. This evening the two had elected to walk far despite the bad weather. Coming at last to an outlying barrack in an early stage of the process of erection, the two paused before it and began to talk. Seeing them stop, Iggy stopped also ata safe distance. He dared go no nearer to them. Deeply disappointed, he was about to turn back when a brilliant idea assailed him.
Keeping well in the shelter of a neighboring barrack which was almost completed, he made a wide circle and approached the skeleton of the other barrack from the back. It would be easy enough for him to climb into it and make his way to the partially open front, provided he could do it without being heard. Once there he could crouch low within a few feet of the two men and perhaps overhear what they said. He had already heard at different times enough of their talk to worry him. Now he proposed to hear still more—if only they did not go away before he got to them. The first words he heard, spoken in German, nearly toppled him over.
“You are willing to do this for the Fatherland?” It was the supposed Cuban who spoke.
“Yes. I long to be of use to Germany. Nothing else can wipe out the trouble that these cursed Americans have made me. I wish now that I had been the one to poison those dogs. Then I would have gloried in it.”
“You have been spared for a greater work. What you will do to-morrow night will well recompense you. Now remember. Meet me here at six to-morrow evening. I will give you the camera. Be sure and set it in the rubbish can with the tripod socket downward. The shutter release is on the side. You will have fastened one end of this piece of fishing line to the trigger of the shutter release. Fishing line does not stretch. Loop the other end round one of the bolts on the inside of the cover that hold its handle on. I have examined those covers and there is a bolt end coming through which makes this possible. Tie it with as little slack as possible and fit the cover on the can. The first man who lifts it will do the trick.”
“What will happen when that release is pulled?” asked Schnitzel.
The other man chuckled grimly.
“A snap shot will be taken somewhat different from the usual sort. That release controls an electrical contact intimately connected with a certain kind of fulminate and behind that again is—the stuff that means the finish of Company E barracks. The explosion will be so destructive that no trace will be left of either the camera or the can. Very soon afterward Company E’s other barrack will follow yours. This is a trick which can be successfully worked twice. Now heed what I tell you, as this is our only chance to talk. To-morrow night I will meet you here only for a moment to give you the camera. You must then hurry back and do your work, while the men are at mess. We can only trust that no one will disturb the can too soon. We must destroy as many of our enemies as we can before they are sent out against us. Youare not afraid to do your part for the Fatherland?”
“Deutschland über alles,” was Schnitzel’s low, fervent answer.
“Gut!Now we must return. Go you first and I will follow slowly. I shall not see you again until I meet you here at six to-morrow evening.”
Trembling with horror at what he had heard, Ignace waited breathlessly for the plotters to depart. After five minutes he straightened up cautiously. All was silent. Growing bolder he stood erect and peered out of one of the open spaces in the frame-work of the barrack. No one was in sight. Making a hasty exit he set off for headquarters on the mad run.
Arrived at headquarters he had his own troubles with a supercilious orderly, who demanded to know the nature of his business.
“I will no tell,” was the Pole’s dogged refusal. “You no say him Pulinski want see, you ver’ sorry.”
This threat was effective in gaining for him the desired interview. His tale told, Ignace became alarmed at the major’s lack of agitation.
“You no believe, sir, what I do?” he ended desperately.
“I believe you, Pulinski.” The K. O.’s tone was extremely kind. “Now I’m going to ask you to go back to barracks and say nothing to anyone about this. You’ve done your part anddone it well. Leave the rest to me, and remember the Army will protect its own.”
“So will I, sir. For Schnitzel have I the hurt here.” Iggy laid a hand on his heart. “Never have I think he spy. Once fren’s. Now him enemy my country, my enemy, too. I am the solder.”
Saluting, Iggy departed wholly unconscious of the nobility of his little speech.
The next day broke in a torrent of rain that gradually slackened to a fine mist that continued to fall all day, bringing on an early dusk. Painfully on the alert, Ignace had watched vainly all day for the “som’thin’.” He had had no trouble in avoiding Schnitzel. The latter had not come near the four Brothers. When at ten minutes to six Ignace saw him go down the squad-room stairs, he was in a fever of dread. The time had come and the “so cross major” had done nothing. He had not believed, then, after all. Ignace decided that he would have to take the initiative. He would say he was not hungry. He would not go to mess. He would stay in barracks and watch the rubbish can. If Schnitzel attempted to go near it, he would fight him away from it.
Meanwhile Schnitzel was forging along through the mist toward the rendezvous. As he neared the spot, he could see no one. Drawing close to the barrack he waited, eyes and ears trained to catch first sight and sound ofFernando. It was only a moment or two until he heard the swashing contact of running feet with mud. Next a rain-drenched figure made port beside him, flashing a white ray of light upon him.
“It is you,” spoke a relieved voice in German. “Here is the camera. Take it quickly. I must return. Fail you not. Strike well for the Fatherland!”
“Hold it just a second,” replied Schnitzel. “I brought a paper for it to guard against the rain.”
“Gut,” approved the voice. “Bitte, schnell!”
“All’s well!” Schnitzel exclaimed loudly in English.
“Shh! Are you mad that you——”
The question was never answered. Forth from the skeleton of the barrack leaped a succession of dark forms. They closed in on the pair with incredible quickness.
“Traitor!” came a savage cry uttered in German. “Die then, with your kind!”
“Not yet,” panted Schnitzel as the supposed colleagues fought desperately for the possession of the camera case, to which Schnitzel clung like grim death. “Got it,” he bellowed. “Hold him tight! He’s Freidrich, not Fernando! He’s a German spy! He poisoned the boys! He tried to blow up the barracks! I swore to run him down! I’ve done it. Let him die like a dog! Shooting’s too good for him!”
“We’re here because we’re here!” announced Bob, beaming fatuously on four young men gathered about a round table in a Tremont restaurant.
A week had elapsed since Franz Schnitzel had sprung the dramatic dénouement that had rid the world of one more fiend. Johann Freidrich, alias Juan Fernando, had been shot at sunrise of the morning before. Bob whimsically declaring that the event needed celebrating, he had straightway invited his Brothers and Schnitzel to a celebration in Tremont.
“We’re not going to beherelong. I mean at Camp Sterling,” smiled Roger. “I expect any minute to get the order to pack.”
“We should worry,” rejoined Bob. “We’ve stirring times ahead of us. We’ve had a few right in camp, too.”
“Gee whiz, Schnitz, you must feel great!” glowed Jimmy. “Think of all you’ve done already for your country. I thought I was some when I nabbed Bixton. Beside you—well—I’m not so much. What a shame there aren’t any medals handed out in the Army. You ought to get enough to cover up your chest. You’re due for a rise in ranks, though. Bet you my hat on that. Now you’ve got to tell us how you did it all. You’ve never peeped. We’ve been laying for you. Got you down here on purpose to-night. Now spill.”
“I intended to tell you fellows.” Schnitzel’s melancholy dark eyes wandered over the group. Ever since that eventful evening in the rain he had been the observed of all observers. As a result he had promptly retired into his shell, declining to be lionized. Even to the four Khaki Boys he had granted only the barest details of his exploit.
“Somehow I couldn’t bear to talk about it. It was all so sickening. But I don’t mind telling you fellows now. There isn’t much to tell. I never suspected Freidrich until after I got out of the guard-house. One day he came to me and started saying how sorry he’d been for me. He began asking me about myself and my people. What they thought about the war and if they had any relatives in it in Germany. He said many of the Germans were fine people who’d been misunderstood. He gave me a kind of a queer look and, I don’t know why, but it somehow made me distrust him. So I said Ididn’t know how my folks felt about it because I hadn’t seen them for several years. That wasn’t true, but anyway it wasn’t any of his business. I told him I didn’t know if any of our relatives in Germany were in the war. That was true enough. I didn’t say what I thought about the Germans themselves.
“That was all he said that time. He kept coming around after me and sympathizing with me. I thought at first he was trying to get me to queer myself. Thought maybe headquarters had put him on my trail to see if I was really all O. K. So I was pretty careful. I found out he could speak German, too. I thought that was rather queer and said so. He explained that he’d learned it from a German overseer on his father’s plantation in Cuba. I didn’t believe it. He spoke it like a German. He had more of the way of a German than a Cuban.
“All of a sudden I made up my mind not to go on in the dark. I went to the K. O. and asked him flat if Fernando had been set to watch me. He nearly had a fit until I told him a few things that I suspected. Then he gave me leave to spring a bluff on the fellow that I was down on the Army, just to see what he’d do.
“So next day I went to him and gave him a great line of talk about how sick I was of Camp Sterling and what a mistake the U. S. had made in declaring war on the Fatherland. That made him prick up his ears. But he was no fool. Ihad to string him along good and hard before he bit at the hook. One day he asked me why I’d enlisted. I just smiled and threw him a funny look. He stared hard at me and muttered: ‘Hoch der Kaiser,’ and I said: ‘You bet.’
“Then I had him going. After that it was easy. He soon got so he’d talk for hours about how bad the Germans had been treated. He’d almost always end by saying, ‘It is for you and me to avenge the great wrongs done the Fatherland.’ But he’d never said what we ought to do until about a week before the bomb business. Then he asked me to go for a walk. We went away out past the trenches. After a while he stopped me and asked if I was willing to do my bit for the Kaiser. I said I was and he put me through an oath of allegiance to Kaiser Bill and then told me what the ‘great work’ was to be. He was careful not to let me know how he got the bombs. He had two or three of them, you know.
“I put it up strong to him then about the poison. Gave him a lot of guff about our being Brothers in the cause, and all that. He didn’t say in so many words that he did it, but he let me understand it just the same. You know the rest. Thank God, I got that bomb away from him. I’m glad I could do something to help the United States and I’m glad, too, on my own account. I’d never have rested easy as long as that poison affair wasn’t cleared up. I feel nowas though I couldn’t go over quick enough to help even the score for Simpson and Brady.”
“That’s the way we all feel,” declared Jimmy.
“I would to-morrow go,” declared Ignace.
“Well, I’m ready to hike along the little old Glory Road,” smiled Roger.
“Here, too,” echoed Bob.
“Take the Glory Road to France;Hike along to join the fray.With the Sammies take a chance,’Neath the Stars and Stripes to-day,”
“Take the Glory Road to France;Hike along to join the fray.With the Sammies take a chance,’Neath the Stars and Stripes to-day,”
“Take the Glory Road to France;Hike along to join the fray.With the Sammies take a chance,’Neath the Stars and Stripes to-day,”
“Take the Glory Road to France;
Hike along to join the fray.
With the Sammies take a chance,
’Neath the Stars and Stripes to-day,”
hummed Jimmy.
“That’s us,” approved Bob. “Lead us to it!”
“Going Over” held no dread for the Khaki Boys. They were indeed ready to take their chance beneath the Stars and Stripes in the trenches of far-off France.
When the welcome summons came and what happened to them after leaving Camp Sterling for a longer hike along the Glory Road is told in the second volume of this series entitled, “The Khaki Boys on the Way, or Doing Their Bit on Sea and Land.”
THE END
THE KHAKI BOYS SERIES
By CAPT. GORDON BATES
12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in full color.
Price per volume, 50 cents, postpaid.
All who love the experiences and adventures of our American boys, fighting for the freedom of democracy in the world, will be delighted with these vivid and true-to-life stories of the camp and field in the great war.
THE KHAKI BOYS AT CAMP STERLINGor Training for the Big Fight in France
Two zealous young patriots volunteer and begin their military training. On the train going to camp they meet two rookies with whom they become chums. Together they get into a baffling camp mystery that develops into an extraordinary spy-plot. They defeat the enemies of their country and incidentally help one another to promotion both in friendship and service.
THE KHAKI BOYS ON THE WAYor Doing Their Bit on Sea and Land
Our soldier boys having completed their training at Camp Sterling are transferred to a Southern cantonment from which they are finally sent aboard a troop-ship for France. On the trip their ship is sunk by a U-boat and their adventures are realistic descriptions of the tragedies of the sea.
THE KHAKI BOYS AT THE FRONTor Shoulder to Shoulder in the Trenches
The Khaki Boys reach France, and, after some intensive training in sound of the battle front, are sent into the trenches. In the raids across No-Man’s land, they have numerous tragic adventures that show what great work is being performed by our soldiers. It shows what makes heroes.
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CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York
THE KHAKI GIRLS SERIES
By EDNA BROOKS
12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in full colors.
Price per volume, 50 cents, postpaid.
When Uncle Sam sent forth the ringing call, “I need you!” it was not alone his strong young sons who responded. All over the United States capable American girls stood ready to offer their services to their country. How two young girls donned the khaki and made good in the Motor Corps, an organization for women developed by the Great War, forms a series of stories of signal novelty and vivid interest and action.
THE KHAKI GIRLS OF THE MOTOR CORPSor Finding Their Place in the Big War
Joan Mason, an enthusiastic motor girl, and Valerie Warde, a society debutante, meet at an automobile show. Next day they go together to the Motor Corps headquarters and in due time are accepted and become members of the Corps, in the service of the United States. The two girl drivers find motoring for Uncle Sam a most exciting business. Incidentally they are instrumental in rendering valuable service to the United States government by discovering and running down a secret organization of its enemies.
THE KHAKI GIRLS BEHIND THE LINESor Driving with the Ambulance Corps
As a result of their splendid work in the Motor Corps, the Khaki Girls receive the honor of an opportunity to drive with the Ambulance Corps in France. After a most eventful and hazardous crossing of the Atlantic, they arrive in France and are assigned to a station behind the lines. Constantly within range of enemy shrapnel, out in all kinds of weather, tearing over shell-torn roads and dodging Boche patrols, all go to make up the day’s work, and bring them many exciting adventures.
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CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York
THE CURLYTOPS SERIES
By HOWARD R. GARIS
Author of the famous “Bedtime Animal Stories”
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Price per volume, 50 cents, net
Splendid stories for the little girls and boys, told by one who is a past master in the art of entertaining young people.
THE CURLYTOPS AT CHERRY FARMor Vacation Days in the Country
A tale of happy vacation days on a farm. The Curlytops have many exciting adventures.
THE CURLYTOPS ON STAR ISLANDor Camping out with Grandpa
The Curlytops were delighted when grandpa took them to camp on Star Island. There they had great fun and also helped to solve a real mystery.
THE CURLYTOPS SNOWED INor Grand Fun with Skates and Sleds
Winter was a jolly time for the Curlytops, with their skates and sleds, but when later they were snowed in they found many new ways to enjoy themselves.
THE CURLYTOPS AT UNCLE FRANK’S RANCHor Little Folks on Pony Back
Out West on their uncle’s ranch they have a wonderful time among the cowboys and on pony back.
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CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York
THE BASEBALL JOE SERIES
By LESTER CHADWICK
12mo. Illustrated. Price per volume, 75 cents, postpaid.
BASEBALL JOE OF THE SILVER STARSor The Rivals of Riverside
Joe is an everyday country boy who loves to play baseball and particularly to pitch.
BASEBALL JOE ON THE SCHOOL NINEor Pitching for the Blue Banner
Joe’s great ambition was to go to boarding school and play on the school team.
BASEBALL JOE AT YALEor Pitching for the College Championship
Joe goes to Yale University. In his second year he becomes a varsity pitcher and pitches in several big games.
BASEBALL JOE IN THE CENTRAL LEAGUEor Making Good as a Professional Pitcher
In this volume the scene of action is shifted from Yale college to a baseball league of our central states.
BASEBALL JOE IN THE BIG LEAGUEor A Young Pitcher’s Hardest Struggles
From the Central League Joe is drafted into the St. Louis Nationals. A corking baseball story all fans will enjoy.
BASEBALL JOE ON THE GIANTSor Making Good as a Twirler in the Metropolis
How Joe was traded to the Giants and became their mainstay in the box makes an interesting baseball story.
BASEBALL JOE IN THE WORLD SERIESor Pitching for the Championship
The rivalry was of course of the keenest, and what Joe did to win the series is told in a manner to thrill the most jaded reader.
BASEBALL JOE AROUND THE WORLD (New)or Pitching on a Grand Tour
The Giants and the All-Americans tour the world, playing in many foreign countries.
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CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York
THE HARRY HARDING SERIES
By ALFRED RAYMOND
12mo. Cloth. Handsomely Illustrated. Beautiful jackets printed in colors. 75 Cents Per Volume, Postpaid.
The trials and triumphs of Harry Harding and Teddy Burke, two wide-awake boys who make a humble beginning on the messenger force of a great department store, with the firm resolve to become successful business men, form a series of narratives calculated to please the alert, progressive boys of today.
HARRY HARDING—Messenger “45”
When Harry Harding bravely decided to leave school in order to help his mother in the fight against poverty, he took his first long step towards successful manhood. How Harry chanced to meet mischievous, red-haired Teddy Burke who preferred work to school, how Teddy and Harry became messengers in Martin Brothers’ Department store and what happened to them there, is a story that never flags in interest.
HARRY HARDING’S YEAR OF PROMISE
After a blissful two weeks’ vacation, spent together, Harry Harding and Teddy Burke again take up their work in Martin Brothers’ store. Their “year of promise” brings them many new experiences, pleasant and unpleasant, but more determined than ever to reach the goal they have set for themselves, they pass courageously and hopefully over the rough places, meeting with many surprises and exciting incidents which advance them far on the road to success.
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CUPPLES & LEON CO. Publishers New York
The Saddle Boys Series
By CAPTAIN JAMES CARSON
12mo. Illustrated. Price per volume, 50 cents, postpaid.
All lads who love life in the open air and a good steed, will want to peruse these books. Captain Carson knows his subject thoroughly, and his stories are as pleasing as they are healthful and instructive.
The Saddle Boys of the Rockiesor Lost on Thunder Mountain
Telling how the lads started out to solve the mystery of a great noise in the mountains—how they got lost—and of the things they discovered.
The Saddle Boys in the GrandCanyonor The Hermit of the Cave
A weird and wonderful story of the Grand Canyon of the Colorado, told in a most absorbing manner. The Saddle Boys are to the front in a manner to please all young readers.
The Saddle Boys on the Plainsor After a Treasure of Gold
In this story the scene is shifted to the great plains of the southwest and then to the Mexican border. There is a stirring struggle for gold, told as only Captain Carson can tell it.
The Saddle boys at Circle Ranchor In at the Grand Round-up
Here we have lively times at the ranch, and likewise the particulars of a grand round-up of cattle and encounters with wild animals and also cattle thieves. A story that breathes the very air of the plains.
The Saddle boys on Mexican Trailsor In the Hands of the Enemy
The scene is shifted in this volume to Mexico. The boys go on an important errand, and are caught between the lines of the Mexican soldiers. They are captured and for a while things look black for them; but all ends happily.
CUPPLES & LEON CO., Publishers, NEW YORK