Through the splintered and tangled crisscross of beams, planks and boards which barred their way to freedom, as some iron grill or lattice work might have kept in some ancient prisoner, the Khaki Boys looked at the man who had shouted to them; the man who had said he would rescue them. And he spoke with a calmness and confidence that was in strange contrast to the scene of terror, noise and confusion which was behind the boys—a danger that was ever coming nearer as the fire, started by the exploding shell, ate its way into the dry timber of the old mill, and menaced the five imprisoned Brothers.
"Who is he?" murmured Bob.
"And where did he come from!" inquired Roger.
"Is he an American or German?" was the question Jimmy asked, and he peered out through a space between two big beams that had fallen and crossed when the mill collapsed.
"He isn't a German—that's sure," declared Franz. "No German would be so decent as to rescue five imprisoned Americans. He'd let us roast to death first."
"Maybe he knows not dat we American be," suggested the Polish lad.
"Well, he wouldn't have to be much of a guesser to tell that we weren't Germans, after he heard us talk," said Jimmy. "We might be of either nationality, as far as our being here is concerned. But no matter what he thinks we are, he seems to be willing to help. What's he looking for, I wonder?"
The strange rescuer appeared to be looking about in front of the mill for some object. His eyes eagerly sought the ground, and he hurried to and fro, seeming to realize the need of haste.
"I'll be there in just a moment, boys!" he called. "I'm looking for something to use in prying apart those beams. They're pretty heavy, and I've got to work all alone. I'll get you out in time!"
"Wonder how he knows we're boys!" asked Bob.
"Oh, that's a general term—he'd call us that if we were forty years old," declared Jimmy. "And no matter how old a man is, if he's in the army, he's a boy. But I wish he'd hurry. It's getting hot here!"
It certainly was! The fire was gaining rapidly, and, every now and then, with a shift in the wind, the hot, choking gases from the flames, together with rolling clouds of smoke, would be blown into the rude chamber where the boys were imprisoned.
When the smoke-clouds blew away the Khaki Boys could look out and see their rescuer, still hunting frantically about for some object to use as a lever. In spite of the danger of their situation they could not help observing the man. He was tall, and well formed, and unmistakably a military character. He appeared to be above the general type of captain or lieutenant.
"If he's any less than a general I'll eat my gas mask!" Roger declared afterward.
Clearly the man was born to command, or he had acquired that right in some manner. There was an indefinable air of authority about him, even though now he was hurrying about almost frantically, looking for some weapon with which to attack the barrier that held the boys prisoners.
"That sure is a queer uniform he has on," remarked Jimmy, as he tried in vain to move some of the beams from his side of the mass of timber that had fallen when the mill was blown up. "It's mostly American, but it has a British air about it."
"And his leather puttees look like some the Germans wear," added Bob. "Maybe he's a war correspondent, and had to pick up bits of uniform from all over."
"He isn't a war correspondent," declared Jimmy.
"What makes you so sure?" Roger wanted to know.
"Because, if he was, he'd have a brassard with a large letter 'C' on it, around his arm," went on Jimmy. "And he wouldn't have a big automatic revolver strapped to his hip, either. The correspondents are classed as non-combatants, and aren't allowed to go armed."
"That's right," chimed in Franz. "But who is he!"
It seemed useless to speculate then, and, indeed, the boys were in little mood for it. The precariousness of their position was alarming. And while I have detailed the conversation among them, you are to understand that it all took place very quickly. In fact from the time they first observed the strange rescuer, until they had talked about his odd uniform, was only about half a minute.
Suddenly the man—officer let us call him—who was scurrying about just beyond the jagged barrier, uttered a cry of satisfaction. He hurried out of the boys' vision for a moment, but lest they have any fear that he had deserted them and left them to their fates, he called:
"I've found what I've been looking for—an axe! I'll soon have you out now!"
He came running back, carrying an axe of curious make. It was a large, keen one, however, and later it developed that it was one the French miller had used to chop his firewood. Throwing off his coat, and revealing beneath it a dark blue shirt, the officer began fiercely to chop at the beams.
And the boys remembered afterward, though at the time they were too excited to mark it, that the officer picked out what might be called the "key" beam. That is one which held all the other pieces of jigged and splintered timber in place, making a prison of that part of the cellar.
With vigorous blows of the keen implement, the unknown chopped away at a great hand-hewn beam. And he swung the axe as though he knew how to use it, and not as a tyro.
"He's been in a lumber camp at one time of his life," decided Jimmy, and the others were inclined to agree with him.
The fire was now gaining so rapidly that the heat of it, penetrating to the prison of the boys, was almost unbearable. The smoke, too, made their eyes smart and burn, and it choked them, causing them to gasp and cough.
"Steady, boys! Steady!" panted the officer, between his vigorous blows. "A few more strokes and I'll have this beam cut. Then I think you can get out."
Again and again he swung the keen axe. Between the blows the boys could hear the sounds of distant firing, and the reverberation told them that heavy guns were being used.
"Hope they don't send any more shells over this way," murmured Bob.
"They seem satisfied, now that they have brought down the old mill on top of us," commented Franz. "Can any of you see the German lines!"
None of them could, it developed. In fact, their vision was obstructed by a small hill directly in front of the grill work of their prison, and, even if this had been removed, the smoke was now swirling around them so thickly that, at times, even the officer chopping them out was obscured.
Once or twice the chopper had to stoop down, in order to breathe the purer and cooler air near the ground, and the boys were put to the same expedient.
And then, suddenly, there came a crashing, splintering sound. There was an exclamation from the officer, and, as he leaped back he cried:
"There she goes, boys! The way is as clear as I can make it! Come on out, and lively, too!"
The Khaki Boys lost no time in obeying. Leaping and scrambling as best they could over the heaps of brick, stone and splintered wood, they emerged through the hole cut for them by the officer. He had chopped through the one beam that held all the others, or most of the others in place, and the crisscross structure had collapsed, allowing the boys to escape.
"Come on! Come on!" cried Jimmy. "Everybody out!"
And they leaped out only just in time, for as Bob, the last to make his way to safety, cleared the jagged barrier, a burst of flames and smoke swept into what had been the boys' prison.
Now they stood on the green grass, in the open, with the burning ruins of the mill at their backs. And confronting them, still holding the axe, and panting from his terrific exertions, was the strange officer.
And as the young soldiers looked at him they wondered, more than ever, who he was.
Almost at once there set in a reaction, as was natural under the circumstances. The Khaki Boys had been keyed up to such a high pitch through the battle, the attack on the hill, the subsequent shelling of it, and their own dangerous position after the collapse of the building, that now their rescue hardly seemed real.
"Say, I'm about all in!" exclaimed Bob, as he sank down on the grass.
"Same here," agreed Jimmy, staggering to a seat.
"Take it easy, boys, take it easy," counseled their rescuer. "And better come a bit farther away from the fire. The whole place is going, and the wind's blowing strongly this way. We're too much in line with it."
He spoke the truth. The boys were enveloped, part of the time, in a haze of smoke and a swirl of burning brands. Tired, and physically and mentally exhausted as they were, they scrambled to their feet—for they had all stretched out on the grass—and made their way to a spot where they could breathe with freedom. The mill ruins were now burning fiercely.
"Any more left in there!" asked the officer, pointing with his axe towards the fiery structure.
"None alive," answered Jimmy, as he thought of their brave comrades in arms who had perished in wiping out the German machine-gun nest. It was, perhaps, a fitting funeral pyre for them.
"Stay here and I'll get you some water," offered the blue-shirted officer. "That will fetch you around quicker than anything else. I can get you a little food, too, I think—emergency rations, if you need them."
"We aren't exactly hungry, sir," said Jimmy, tacking on the "sir" in an almost certain opinion that the man was an officer. "We had some of our own rations, and we were eating when the Huns sent a big shell over that spilled the beans."
"I see. Well, then, rest here until I can get you some water. Fortunately the Boches can't blow up a stream. The water is sure to remain somewhere. It won't take long to get it, I'll be back in a moment."
He hurried off between two little hillocks, away from the burning mill and in the direction of the stream.
"Who in the world is he?" asked Bob.
"It's a puzzle," said Jimmy. "We'll ask when we thank him for saving our lives."
"Here you are, boys," said the officer, as he came up the slope with a canteen which gurgled most musically with water. "Drink this and then we'll discuss what's best to be done."
"Are we safe here?" asked Jimmy. "Safe from the Germans, I mean?They're all about here, you know."
"Yes, I know," said the officer, and there seemed to be more in his remark than the mere words indicated. "But you're safe for the time being. They have destroyed the mill, so it is no longer a menace, they fancy. Their guns are directed elsewhere now."
The sound of distant firing could be plainly heard, but the boys could no longer observe the gray ranks of the Huns on the distant hill. One reason for this was because of the smoke from the burning mill, which swirled about in all directions, and the other reason was that there was a lot of smoke caused by the guns of the Germans, and this, or perhaps a smoke screen which they started, concealed them.
"Feel better?" asked the officer, when the lads had emptied the canteen.
"Much," answered Jimmy. "And now, sir, may we have the pleasure of knowing to whom we owe our escape? We're from the 509th Infantry," he went on. "We were in the battle, and got cut off. Our lieutenant had ordered us to take the mill where some Germans had two machine-guns. We five are all that are left of the sixteen that started. And we wouldn't be alive but for you. So if we could know whom to thank—"
The officer stopped him with an imperious gesture. He looked rather stern, and then, as though conscious that this was not the attitude to take, he smiled.
"I'm glad I was able to serve you," he said. "I happened to be in the neighborhood. I heard your cries after the mill collapsed and began to burn, and I hastened up. I had no time to summon help—in fact, your friends are rather distant from here now. The Germans are all about."
"We know it—to our sorrow," replied Bob. "How we are going to get back to our company is what's worrying me."
"Itisgoing to be a problem," assented the officer.
"Are you coming with us?" asked Jimmy. It was a perfectly natural question. Here was one—by most appearances an American officer—marooned with some American doughboys in the midst of the Germans. Why should he not cast his lot with them, and lead them to the best of his ability to the safest place? He was an officer—there was no question of that—and it was his right to lead. But he seemed disturbed at Jimmy's question. He looked searchingly at the boys, and then toward the distant hills where the Germans were massed, though not then in sight.
"No, I—I can't come with you," the unknown said. "I'm sorry, but you will have to shift for yourselves. I'll give you the best directions I can to enable you to reach your own lines, but you'll have to go alone."
"We'll try," said Bob. "But we wish to thank you, and we don't know—"
"Oh, it was all in the day's work," interrupted the officer, "Any one who came along would have done just as I did to help you."
"Not anyone, sir," asserted Franz, in a low voice. "A German wouldn't have chopped us out."
"Well—er—perhaps not," said the officer. "But it was in my line of duty and I did it. I don't want to be thanked for doing my duty."
"But we insist on thanking you, sir!" exclaimed Jimmy with a smile. "If it hadn't been for you we'd be dead in there now—it was impossible for us to free ourselves!"
"Well, you may call me Captain Frank Dickerson," said the officer slowly. And he appeared to hesitate over the words.
"Then allow me, in the names of my companions, to thank you from the bottoms of our hearts!" exclaimed Jimmy, rising and saluting. The captain returned the salute. He stood for a minute looking Jimmy straight in the eyes, and the lad said afterward that the officer seemed to be searching out the sergeant's very soul. Then Captain Dickerson said:
"I must leave you now. You will find a little package of food at the end of the mill flume. I'll leave you this canteen so you may carry water with you on your journey toward your own lines. Your way lies there," and he pointed to the south. "Good-bye—and good luck! I hope you may get through, but—"
Then, turning abruptly he strode off between two high grassy hummocks, and was soon lost to sight in the smoke and haze.
For a moment the khaki boys stood, motionless, and then Jimmy, looking around on the circle of his companions, exclaimed:
"Well, if that isn't mysterious!"
"I should say so!" agreed Bob. "Talk about the man in the iron mask—this beats it!"
"Why doesn't he come with us, toward the American lines?" asked Roger. "Why does he want to go over where the Huns are? This gets me. It looks as if he was——"
He did not finish the sentence. But his chums knew what he had started to say. Only it seemed a terrible suspicion to which to give voice, against the man who had saved their lives. Still, with all that, the khaki boys could not help thinking in their hearts that there was something wrong.
"Maybe he's going over there to scout around and see if that's a better way for us to get back to our quarters," suggested Bob.
Jimmy shook his head. Then he remarked slowly:
"Come on! Let's see about food and water and then well hike. All our stuff—guns, rations and everything—has gone up in the fire."
"I haf yet two off dem handle chranades," spoke up Iggy, meaning, thereby the serrated Mills bombs which were used in the trench raids.
"Hold on to them!" advised Jimmy. "We'll need them if the Huns see us, and they're very likely to."
They crawled to the end of the mill flume. The fire was now some distance from this wooden water carrier. There, in a canvas bag which the boys recognized as one of the variety carried by the Americans, they found a goodly stock of provisions.
"They'll last us a day, anyhow," said Jimmy, making an inspection."And by that time we may be back in our lines."
"Or in the Germans'," voiced Bob.
"There's a big battle going on all around us, but we seem to be in the center of a calm area," said Roger. "The question is how to find our way out."
"Well, let's go!" suddenly exclaimed Jimmy. "Well only get lame and stiff staying here, I feel as if I'd been rolled down hill in a spiked barrel."
Not one of the five Brothers but what had several wounds. But, fortunately, they were superficial ones. They were sore and bruised from being knocked down by the concussion, and by being precipitated into the cellar by the collapse of the mill. But they were still able to travel; though, as Jimmy said, if they remained inactive their muscles and joints would stiffen.
"Hike!" cried Bob, and they set off in the direction indicated by Captain Dickerson—that strange man who had seemed so cold and reserved, and who had made so light of what he had done in saving the lives of the Khaki Boys.
"I wonder if we'll ever see him again," mused Franz, as they marched away from the burning mill.
"Somehow I have a feeling that we will," said Jimmy. And afterward he was to recall those words under strange circumstances.
And so they began what was destined to be a most perilous journey to get back to their own lines.
"Now, boys," said Sergeant Jimmy, when they had dipped down into a hollow among the many hills in the big valley, "we've got to have some plan of action, and some system to this. We've got to have a leader, too. Military rule must prevail, even among friends."
"You act as leader!" suggested Bob Dalton.
"That's right!" chimed in all the others.
"We'll make you captain, for the time being," added Roger.
"Thank you for the honor," said Jimmy with a smile. "I'll wait, I guess, until my promotion comes regularly. But if you really want me to take the lead and—"
"Of course we want you!" exclaimed Franz, while Iggy added:
"Besser as we should have him for to leader us dan a Germans."
"Well, I'm glad you think that much of me!" laughed Jimmy. "Now then, if I'm to lead I'll have to give orders. And do you all agree to obey them—at least if they don't seem against your better judgment?"
"We'll obey 'em anyhow," said Roger, and the others nodded assent.
"All right," went on Jimmy. "The first thing to do is to calculate how long our rations will last. There's enough for one day if we each took about all we wanted. Or there's enough for two days, or more, if we stint ourselves."
"Then we'll go on a diet!" declared Bob. "There's no telling how long we may be in getting back to our lines, and while we might be able to find something to eat along the way, it won't do to take chances."
"I thought you'd look at it that way," said Jimmy. "As for water, it rains so infernally often in this country that I imagine we shan't be thirsty. But we'll always carry the canteen full. Now, then, I'll appoint Roger as Secretary of the Interior—that is, I'll make him the cook and give him charge of the rations," and Jimmy handed the canvas bag of food over to his chum.
"There isn't anything to cook," said Roger, as he looked in the bag."It's all emergency ration stuff."
"So much the easier for you," declared Jimmy. "Now that's settled, the next thing to decide is how to get to our lines."
"Keep right on going the way Captain Dickerson told us," suggestedBob.
"That's what I want to consider," Jimmy went on. "Do you all think that is the wisest course to follow?"
"Why in the world not?" asked Franz, in some amazement. "Didn't he tell us to go south, and don't we pretty well know that in that direction would be the most logical place for our troops to be?"
"I grant that," replied Jimmy. "But if our lines are to the south, why did Captain Dickerson, who appears to be an American officer, go to the north! Why didn't he come with us?"
"That's starting the whole question over again," declared Bob. "I say let's take a chance and go south. The captain wouldn't send us wrong after he went to all that trouble to save us alive."
"Perhaps you're right," admitted Jimmy. "Well, though I'm leader I'm willing to abide by the majority rule. Since you all want to go to the south, the south it shall be."
"Don't you think that's the best way?" asked Roger.
"Well, it's as good, perhaps, as any other," was the reply. "I think we're pretty well surrounded by Germans, and it doesn't really make much difference which way we go. So the south is as good as any."
"Then lead on!" exclaimed Bob.
"Yes—hike!" added Roger.
And once more they started off.
Their way lay through what had once been a beautiful farming country. In places, still, there were fields under cultivation—that is, they had been cultivated up to within a few weeks. But the tide of battle had swept over the region and the French farmers had either been killed or had left their homesteads. Still, where the fields had not been torn up by shell fire, grains were growing, and there were even orchards here and there.
But, as far as the soldier boys could see, there was no sign of life. Even the birds seemed to have flown away. There were no chickens, no dogs, no cattle nor horses—in fact none of the usual farm scenes. Here and there were farmhouses, some in ruins, others scarcely touched by the devastating wave of war. But in these latter, which were still habitable, there were no men or women, and no laughing children. In fact, throughout France it is probable that there were no laughing children at this stage of the war. Or if they laughed, it was because they were too young to appreciate the menace of the Boche invasion.
"We may not be so badly off for food, even if we eat up all our Secretary of the Interior has," remarked Bob, as they trudged along a deserted road. They had, some time since, left behind them the burning mill. It was out of sight, though they could catch occasional glimpses of the smoke from it.
"What do you mean!" asked Jimmy.
"Well, there may be a lot of good things to eat in some of these farmhouses," suggested the young corporal. "I vote we take a look."
"It can't do any harm," decided Jimmy. "But I doubt if we find anything worth taking."
And he was right—at least in the first few houses the boys entered. The cupboards had been cleaned out, if not by the unfortunate owners, then by the Germans who had devastated the region.
"We'll have to live on what we have," said Jimmy. "And we may not be so badly off for all that Lots of the boys have been without food for three days. If they stood it we can. And we may get to our lines sooner than we expect."
"I don't see why we shouldn't get there by night," observed Roger. "We didn't hike very far when we were fighting, and our boys can't have retreated far enough in the time that has elapsed since the fighting changed, to get entirely beyond our reach. I believe we'll be with our own division by night."
"Well, it doesn't do any harm to hope," said Jimmy. "But we've got to be cautious just the same."
They kept on, ever on the alert for a sight of the Germans, ever hoping for a sight of their own khaki-clad comrades. They appeared to be marching away from the scene of the battle, or battles. The firing became fainter. The country was now quite open, consisting of little hills and valleys. Each time they came to a height which afforded a place for observation, they looked all around. But all they saw, besides an occasional deserted farmhouse, or patch of woods, were rolling clouds of mist or smoke.
There had been considerable rain, and the ground was damp. The sun, shining on this, caused the moisture to condense into fog that swirled about here and there. The day had begun wonderfully clear, but now it looked like rain again.
They halted in a little grove of trees and ate some of their none-too-plentiful rations. Then, after a rest, they started on again. It was late afternoon when, as they were hiking down a lonely road, the rain suddenly began to fall.
"Whew! Now we're in for it!" exclaimed Roger, as he did his best to protect the bag of food. "We might better have stayed back in the woods."
"Let's double-quick it!" suggested Bob. "Maybe there's a house around the bend in the road."
They hastened on, and the surmise of Bob proved correct. There was a lonely little house—more of a cabin, or shack—set in the midst of what had been a garden, but now overgrown with weeds.
"Shelter, at any rate!" cried Jimmy. "Come on, fellows!"
Roger was the first to enter the humble little cottage. But he had no sooner crossed the threshold than he started back.
"What's the matter?" asked Bob, who was directly behind his chum. "AnyGermans here?"
"No, but I fancy the owner is," said Roger. "Look!"
He pointed to the figure of an old man, with white hair, seated at a table in what was evidently the kitchen. The man's head was bowed on his arms which were resting on the table.
"Oh!" exclaimed Jimmy, as he looked in.
"Beg your pardon, sir," said Bob, "but we're Americans. May we stay here out of the rain, and perhaps for the night?"
There was no answer. The figure did not move.
"He doesn't understand anything but French, very likely," said Franz."Can't you take a hand, Blazes?"
"Yes," assented Jimmy. "But it's funny he didn't wake up when Bob spoke, even if he didn't understand. I'll go ahead. But let's get in out of the wet."
They entered the room. The white-haired occupant of it did not stir from his position of bowed-down grief.
"He sleeps very soundly," remarked Jimmy in a low voice.
Stepping forward he touched the old man on the shoulder, and thenJimmy knew what had happened.
"He's dead!" he whispered.
"Dead?" echoed the others.
"Come on—let's go into the other room," suggested Jimmy.
There was another room opening out from the kitchen. Into this theKhaki Boys filed silently.
"Do you suppose the Germans killed him?" asked Roger.
"Very likely. Or he may have died from old age, fright or shock. We'll leave him where he is."
"And stay here?" asked Bob.
"Sure! Why not? We're out of the rain. The poor dead man can not harm us, and we have seen enough of death, in worse forms than this, to be afraid now."
"Oh, it isn't that I'm afraid!" exclaimed Bob. "But if the Germans did that to—him—they may come back and—"
"I fancy not," said Jimmy. "I believe they think they have cleaned out this place. It's the safest spot for us with the old man as a silent sentry. Come, fellows, well spend the night here with the dead to guard us."
It was said reverently—piously—and there was a strange feeling in the hearts of all the boys as they closed the door on the silent, pathetic figure and stood together in the other room, while the rain beat down on the roof, and dashed against the windows.
And so they began their bivouac of the with death as a sentry on guard.
"Well, we've got to be thankful that we had a place to stay all night where we were out of the wet," remarked Jimmy, as he and his chums awoke the next morning in the lonely cottage of the dead Frenchman.
"Yes, and we're going to have a good day to travel, too," said Bob."There's the sun up good and proper, as Tommy Atkins would say."
"No telling how long it'll stay up," came from Roger. "Yesterday started in fine, but look what happened before night."
"Look what happened!" echoed Jimmy. "I don't believe since we joined the service any more things have happened in any one day. We ought to be thankful we're alive."
"Sure we are," said Iggy. "But I thinks me dat he is going to rain!"
"Who's he?" asked Franz.
"Him!" and Iggy pointed to the sun. "Der wedder I mean. Him will rain before night I feel, for of my foot there is such a pains. Always when it rain going to be is, of my foots there is a pain."
"You mean your corn hurts!" asked Bob, with a laugh. He had been rather gloomy the day before, but now he seemed to have recovered his usual good spirits. "Imagine having a corn in these days of battle!" he went on.
"He is not what you say—imagitive!" declared the Polish lad earnestly. "He is real, dat pain in mine foots! But I can away from here march quick. It gives me bad dreams," and he looked toward the kitchen where the silent occupant had acted as sentry for them.
There had been no disturbance during the night, and if any parties of Germans had passed the lonely farmhouse this was unknown to the boys. Occasionally they heard the sound of distant firing, but now, as the sun rose higher in the heavens, the noises became louder, and, seemingly, nearer.
"Must be a big battle going on not far from here," remarked Bob.
"I don't believe there's been any let-up in the big battle," came fromJimmy.
"The only trouble is that we're being left out!" exclaimed Franz. "I want to get back in the fighting again."
"Same here!" murmured Roger. "Let's eat and then well hike. We ought to get back to our lines to-day, sure."
"If we have luck," remarked Jimmy. "Well, let's go!"
It was not much of a breakfast that the Khaki Boys had, but it was better than nothing. They managed to make a fire in the stove and boiled some coffee they found in a cupboard.
"Best meal I've had in a week!" exclaimed Bob with a grateful sigh, as he finished his cup of hot liquid. "Now I'm ready to meet Kaiser Bill himself!"
They packed up what food remained, filled their canteen from a little stream not far from the cottage, and then, bidding a silent farewell to the dead Frenchman, they started off once more.
The country through which the five Brothers traveled seemed as deserted as that over which they had journeyed the previous day after their rescue from the old mill. But the evidences of war were more frequent in destroyed orchards, ruined farmhouses and, here and there, immense holes in the ground where great shells had struck and exploded.
"What's your trouble, Jimmy!" asked Bob, clapping his chum on the shoulder, as they trudged down a road. "You look as though you hadn't heard from your girl in Buffalo in a month of Sundays."
"Neither I have," said Jimmy. "But I wasn't exactly thinking of Margaret then, though I have given her a lot of thought at different times. I'm just wondering—"
"'Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag, and smile, smile, smile!'" sang Bob.
"Good advice," commented Jimmy. "My troubles aren't any more serious than those of anyone else in this war. But I was just wondering if that officer told us the truth"
"What officer?" asked Roger.
"The one who called himself Captain Dickerson, and who saved our lives at the red mill?" answered Jimmy. "I can't get over his not coming with us to show us the way to the American lines. I believe he ought to have done it!" and Jimmy spoke very determinedly.
"He certainly would have if he had had any consideration for Iggy's pet corn!" laughed Bob. "We don't seem to be having any luck ourselves. It wouldn't have hurt him to have taken command of this squad of rookies and led us back to civilization."
"Civilization! I hope you don't call the trenches with their big rats and cooties and—er—other things—civilization!" cried Jimmy. "If it is—give me barbarism."
"Well, I didn't just mean that," went on Bob. "But I wish CaptainDickerson had come back with us."
"Maybe he had orders to proceed elsewhere," suggested Franz.
"If he had he was on a dangerous mission," said Jimmy simply. "He went straight toward the German lines. I can't understand it at all. He certainly was a strange man."
"But he did us the greatest service one man can do for another," remarked Roger. "He saved our lives, fellows! Don't forget that!"
"No," agreed Jimmy in a low voice. "Whatever happens we must never forget that."
They trudged on in silence a little longer, and then Franz broke out with:
"And speaking of wondering, Jimmy, what do you suppose has become ofSergeant Maxwell?"
"And your money, Blazes," added Bob.
"Our money," corrected his chum. "Haven't I told you that the five thousand francs is the joint property of the five Brothers."
"All right—have it your own way—anything if or a quiet life!" saidBob, quickly. "I was just wondering, that's all."
"I have been wondering, too," admitted Jimmy. "The disappearance ofMaxwell and the cash is almost as much of a mystery as is CaptainFrank Dickerson."
Twice that day, as they tramped along, seeking in vain for the American lines, they saw small parties of German soldiers. And on both occasions the Khaki Boys were fortunate enough to sight the enemy first, so they could conceal themselves in patches of woods.
They were now in a country where there were larger tracts of forest, and after coming out of one of these thickets Bob remarked.
"Fellows, do you know what I think?"
"Do you, really?" chafed Roger.
"Do I really what?" asked Bob, a bit disconcerted.
"Think!" exclaimed his chum. "I thought you'd given that up."
"This war is enough to make a chap give it up," Bob agreed. "But seriously, fellows, I think we're lost—that we've been going around in a circle, and we aren't any nearer our lines than when we were at the red mill. Not so near, in fact, for there we knew that some of the doughboys were not more than a mile away. But here—"
"Bob, I shouldn't be surprised but what you are right!" exclaimed Jimmy. "It does seem funny that, with all our traveling, we haven't come to the American lines. They can't be so far away as all this. I guess we must have traveled in a circle. Pity we haven't a compass."
"Can't you steer by the sun?" asked Franz. "We started south, and if we keep the rising sun on our left and the setting sun on our right, we're bound to go south."
"The trouble was yesterday that we didn't see the sun after we started hiking," declared Jimmy. "It's all right now—we're surely going south. But how long we can keep it up there's no telling."
"Well, then, as long as we know we're going in the right direction now, let's double quick and cover as much ground as we can straight away, before we get turned around again," suggested Roger.
His plan was voted a good one, and the tired young soldiers hurried on. But to their chagrin it soon became cloudy, and then a mist settled down obscuring every gleam of sunshine, and they had to depend on their sense of direction, which, truth to tell, was not very accurate.
When night came, it found the boys on a lonely stretch of land, partly bogs, with, here and there, patches of woods. The prospect was most gloomy, for their food was getting scarce, and they were tired and. sore. Their wounds, slight as they were, bothered them, and though none complained, each one would have been glad to be able to slip into some dugout, no matter how rough, and there rest.
"What shall we do!" asked Jimmy, as it became almost too dark to proceed along an uncertain path. "Shall we hole in or keep on?"
"It's going to be cold, holing in this night," replied Roger, with a shiver. "Look at that fog!" he went on, as the mists rolled up from a swamp. "It goes right through you!"
"Well, then let's keep on walking," said Jimmy, trying to speak cheerily.
They walked on in silence. Bob did not get off any of his queer, improvised rhymes, and as for Iggy he turned up the collar of his coat, hunched his shoulders; and seemed like some old man tramping along.
"Hark!" suddenly called Jimmy, and the words came in a tense whisper. It was as if he had said "Halt!" for his chums came to a stop on the instant.
"What is it?" asked Bob.
"Don't you hear some one walking toward us?" went on Jimmy, his voice still low and tense.
They all listened. The fog swirled around them in cold, white clouds. And then, through the darkness, they all heard, and distinctly, this time, the measured beat of marching feet.
"Soldiers all right!" commented Roger in a whisper.
"Yes, but what kind?" was Jimmy's question. "Are they our boys, some of the Allies or—Germans?"
"What shall we do?" asked Franz, and, in the misty darkness he turned toward Jimmy, as seemed natural.
"Keep still," was the advice given. "And crouch down. If they are Boches well let 'em pass—if they'll be so obliging as to go on. If they're some of our boys—"
"Oh, boy! If they only are!" sighed Bob.
The tramping feet came nearer.
"They're headed right this way!" declared Franz, who was crouching down next to Jimmy.
"Yes. But keep still! Don't even whisper. Sounds carry very far on a misty night—almost as they do over water."
The thud of heavily shod feet sounded plainly now, and then, suddenly, so suddenly that it made the hearts of the Khaki Boys thump fiercely, there came a voice out of the darkness saying:
"I don't believe we'd better go any farther, boys. We've come quite a way from our lines, and we haven't seen a sign of even a Hun sentry. We can go back and report the coast clear!"
And the voice was that of an American! Hearing it Jimmy and his chums leaped to their feet.
"Americans there"! sung out Bob.
Instantly came the sharp challenge:
"Who's there!"
"Some of the 509th Infantry," answered Jimmy, giving the names of his companions and himself.
"Advance, Sergeant Blaise! The others stay where they are. And remember our rifles have you covered, so don't try any funny work."
It was a grim warning, but the five Brothers appreciated its need. Jimmy stepped forward, and the light from a pocket electric torch flashed in his face.
"Don't know you, but you look all right," said a tall, young lieutenant who was in charge of the party, the tramping feet of which had so alarmed our heroes. "What are you doing here?"
"It's a long story, but I'll cut it short," said Jimmy, and he did. The lieutenant listened with interest, and then, satisfied that the truth was being told, he remarked.
"You'd better come back with us. We'll take care of you for to-night, and to-morrow you can send word to your command. I don't know this Captain Dickerson you speak of."
"Are we near the American lines?" asked Bob.
"Within half a mile," was the answer.
They were led back, and soon were comfortably housed in a dugout, partaking of hot rations, and telling their story to wondering comrades. They had come upon a sector of the line held by a division made up of New York and New Jersey troops, and, though our heroes knew none of them personally, they fraternized all right.
The next day the commanding officer, having heard their story, sent them back to their own company, which had moved considerably farther toward the front since the battle of the mill, as the boys called it.
They learned that the big body of German troops which they had seen from their hiding place had not yet come into an engagement to any great extent with the Allies.
"A big battle is pending though," said their captain, when our heroes were back in their own command, where they were made royally welcome. "There have been skirmishes and some long-distance artillery work. But the big fight is yet to come. You'll have a chance to rest up and get in trim for it."
Jimmy and his chums were glad of this. They were allowed leaves of absence, and went back of the lines to a pleasant little village, where rest and good food soon made them "fit" again. All efforts to learn something more of Captain Dickerson, and the whereabouts of Sergeant Maxwell, were, however, without avail.
One evening, after the five Brothers had reported back to their billet for duty, and while they were in the dugout, detailing over again some of their experiences at the mill, the sergeant-major entered.
"Get set, boys!" he exclaimed. "The orders are coming in. We go over the top again in the morning, and it's going to be some fight!"
And when the zero hour was signaled again the five Brothers were in battle once more.
Equipped with gas masks, their packs filled with first-aid outfits, carrying emergency rations, with the "tin hats" on their heads and with rifles firmly grasped, over the top went the Khaki Boys, and thousands like them, in another attempt to subdue the Boche enemy.
Behind the boys roared out the big guns that were laying down a protecting barrage—a veritable curtain of fire behind which they might advance and without which they would have been swept back into their trenches broken and bruised and killed. The artillery duel had been under way some little time now, and it had evidently taken the Germans by surprise, for they were longer than usual in replying.
"Smash 'em up! Smash 'em up!" yelled the lieutenant in charge of that particular part of the advance in which Jimmy Blaise and his chums were included. "Smash 'em up, boys!"
"Wow! We're with you!" howled Franz. "Smash 'em up!"
Forward they surged, the gallant American lads, who a short time before were peaceful clerks, factory and farm hands and happy college lads, and some boys who instinctively shrank from the mere thought of killing. But now their spirits were on fire with the sacred wine of liberty, and they were daring as they had never dared before. Their daring was imbued with right, and other than this nothing will stand.
The gray mists of morning swirled this way and that, blown not so much by nature's wind as by the bursts from the flaming mouths of great guns. And through this mist rushed the Americans, some to horrible death or agony, and some to escape scatheless—to inflict just punishment on a mass of men who had lost all sense of right and wrong—men who had reverted to beasts.
"Are we all here?" yelled Jimmy, above the horrid din of battle, as he tried to see if Bob, Roger and the others were near him.
"I guess we're here—yet," snapped back Franz, grimly. "No telling how long we shall be, though!"
"Come on now—sharp's the word!" yelled the commanding officer. "Separate there, you!" he cried to Jimmy and the other four, for they were too close together. "Spread out! You're too good a target for a machine-gun as you stand!"
They knew the advice was good, and they took it. But they did not separate too far, for they wanted to be together as they went into this fight. It might be the last for all or any one of them.
The din was terrific. It seemed as if all the guns of the world were letting go together, and as Jimmy rushed forward, firing at a foe he could not see, he reflected that this same terrific havoc and riot of sound was taking place for miles along the front held by the Americans, and also along the sectors where the gallant French and British were disputing with the Huns the right to rule the world.
"Forward! Forward! No lagging!" cried the young lieutenant, leading his men. It was getting lighter now, as the sun arose, but the orb itself could not be seen because of the smoke and mist.
But he need not have concerned himself about the laggards. There were none in the 509th Infantry. Too often had they had their mettle proved.
A shell rushed screechingly over Jimmy's head seemingly within a few feet of him, and instinctively he ducked. Then he almost laughed at himself, for he realized that if he heard the noise he was safe.
"We're getting closer," mused Jimmy as he leaped forward, firing as he went, now crouching down, and again standing partly upright, as he hurried on. He and his chums were passing through an orchard, now, on their way to come to grips with the Germans. That is, it had been an orchard, but all that was left of it now were a few broken stumps of trees. The firing of heavy guns, and the bursting of big shells had wiped out the work of nature.
There came an explosion on Jimmy's left—an explosion from a small German shell that blew up a section of the orchard, tossing the blackened and gnarled stumps high in the air. And with the stumps were mingled poor, twisted human bodies.
For one terrible moment Jimmy feared for Franz and Iggy, whom he had last noted almost at the very spot where the shell exploded. His heart turned faint within him. But it was no time to falter. One must not halt nor turn back even though one's own brother were torn to pieces. Forward was the word in that grim and terrible fighting. Forward to your own death, perhaps, to the death of those you held most dear! Forward to insure life and happiness for those who would come after! Such was the sacred duty!
And then, to his great relief, Jimmy heard a voice he knew well exclaim:
"Ach! Him was one big whizz-bang, yes!"
"You said it, Iggy!" shouted Franz, and Jimmy saw his two comrades emerge from the smoke and dust cloud, and rush forward. They had just escaped death by the shell, which sent into eternity six beloved bunkies of the 509th.
"Well, they're alive yet!" grimly mused Jimmy, as he fired and crouched down. A look to the right showed him Roger and Bob doing the same thing. So far the five Brothers had suffered no harm.
But the battle was only beginning. The German big guns had not yet opened in force to reply to the challenge of the American heavy artillery. So far the barrage had, in a great measure, protected our lads. Now they were to move forward again. The guns at the rear were elevated, to send the bursting shrapnel further into the German ranks—to prevent them from rushing at the advancing American troops.
And now was a critical time, for even in spite of the barrage some parties of Huns, in bomb-proofs, might suddenly arise and confront the Americans. There was a chance for close fighting.
But it did not come. That part of No Man's Land over which Jimmy and his chums were advancing, leaping from shell crater to mud hole, and from one slimy pool to another, seemed to have been cleared of Huns.
Once again came the explosion of a comparatively large shell, and again, hurled aloft in a shower of stones and dirt, went the bodies of a half score of Americans. The Germans were taking frightful toll.
"This way! This way!" suddenly ordered the lieutenant. "Into the woods!"
Jimmy saw a large grove of trees on his left. He turned toward them, and he noted that Franz and Iggy were ahead of him, while Bob and Roger came in the rear.
And, just as they reached the somewhat sheltering woods, there sounded from the air above them several explosions, and with them was an undercurrent of humming and droning as if from a million swarms of bees.
"The Boche aëroplanes! They're right over us—a whole flock of 'em!" cried Roger. "And they're dropping bombs on us!"
What Roger had said was only too true. The advance of the American army had been halted, at least temporarily, by a sudden attack from a large number of German aëroplanes. The Fokkers had arisen from far enough back of the place where the American shells were falling to escape them. And then they had sailed directly over the advancing Americans, the center formation of the Huns' ships of the air being almost directly over where our five heroes were now stationed in the woods.
"Bombs! I should say so!" cried Jimmy, as one landed on the other edge of the woods, and blew a great hole in the ground. "This is getting too close for comfort!"
The German machines, having flown from the direction of their own lines across the American front, dropping bombs that did great execution, were now coming back again, to repeat the performance, it was very evident.
"Why didn't we bring up some anti-aircraft guns?" demanded Bob, as though some officer, immediately over him, had neglected this precaution.
"Guess no one expected the Huns would try this trick," said Roger."It's a daring move, all right."
"And it's a dangerous one for us, too!" added Jimmy, grimly. "These woods are a pretty good protection against shrapnel and machine-gun fire, but they're absolutely useless when it comes to screening us from aëroplane bombs. Of course we can hide from the sight of the flying Huns, but they must know this wood is full of Americans, and a bomb dropped anywhere among the trees will get some of us. It's fierce!"
"You said it!" cried Franz. "Wow! That was a bad one!"
A bomb—one of the winged affairs that wrought such deadly havoc in Paris and London—had fallen not one hundred feet from where the five Brothers were crouching in the underbrush. The concussion jarred them, and the force of the explosion uprooted several large trees that injured a number of the command, while the bomb itself killed three in dreadful fashion.
"Why don't our flying lads get after 'em?" demanded Franz. "Surely we have some planes over here now—in fact, I know we have; though not nearly enough. Where are they?"
Well might he ask that, for the Germans were circling around, now over the woods and again over the open country, dropping their bombs, which exploded, doing terrible damage, killing and wounding many.
Suddenly Bob, who was gazing skyward in despair, clutched Jimmy's arm and cried:
"Look! Look! There they are! There come our boys! American machines!See the Indian head! Now we'll see Mr. Hun on the run! Oh, boy!"
Jimmy gazed for a moment in the direction indicated by his excited churn. Then he exclaimed:
"You're right! The American aviators are here at last, and I'll wager it wasn't their fault that they didn't get here sooner! Now for a fight in the air!"
And up just beneath the clouds, sometimes out of sight in the mist, the American flying men attacked the enemy. Now there was no time for the Huns to loose their bombs. They must look to their own safety. No longer did they have all the odds on their side.
"Look! Look! See our man engage those two!" shouted Roger.
They all saw what he meant. One intrepid American airman had headed for two Fokkers which were flying directly toward him, close together.
But in another instant one of the German planes was seen to swerve to one side, and then it darted downward, and in a manner to indicate that its pilot had been killed or wounded, for the machine was out of control. Like a dead leaf it descended, crashing into a shapeless mass in a field some distance from the woods.
"Now he's after the other!" cried Bob. "Oh, they're going to collide!"
But he spoke without knowledge of the skill to be shown by the American pilot and his accompanying gunner. For, just as it appeared as though the two hostile craft would come together in a mid-air crash, the American machine seemed to slide up and over its opponent. And then, just as the first German had done, the enemy craft crumpled up, and down it went in dizzying whirls.
"Two at once! That's going some!" yelled Jimmy, capering about. They were comparatively out of danger now, sheltered as they were in the woods from the artillery and rifle and machine-gun fire of the Germans. And no more airship bombs were being dropped.
"Some stunt, that!" declared Bob. "Wonder who they were—thoseAmericans?"
"I hope they live through it so we can find out," voiced Franz. The battle in the air was now going on fiercely. There were ten American machines attacking more than double that number of Germans, and, as was always the case, the Huns were brave when they had the numerical advantage. They fought bitterly, and with skill—that could not be denied. And before the battle had been going on very long two American machines had been shot down. Whether the men in them had been killed, or not, remained to be seen.
"It's sort of going against us," said Jimmy, with a dry, choking sob.
"This is fierce!" cried Roger. "Why don't we send up some more machines?"
"Haven't got 'em, maybe," remarked Franz. "Oh, look at that! They collided head on!"
This actually happened. One of the larger American machines, the ammunition probably having given out, was being attacked by a German Fokker. Knowing that it was either kill or be killed, the pilot of the craft with the Indian head painted on the underside of the wings took a desperate chance.
Straightening out his craft, he headed it directly toward that of his enemy. The latter tried to steer out of the way when it was seen what the game would be, but he was unable to do so.
They came together with what must have been a fearful crash, though of course not the faintest echo of it could be heard down in the woods. And then, locked together in a death embrace, the two machines hurtled over and over to earth, bursting into flames as they fell. They smashed down in a swamp, and all four airmen were killed—the two brave Americans and their perhaps no less intrepid German fighters.
"It's going to be a tight squeeze!" murmured Roger, as he and the others gazed aloft. "There's three of our machines done for and here come some more Germans. Oh, this is fierce!"
"More German machines? Where!" cried Jimmy.
"There!" and Roger pointed to the sky behind the German planes. "Ten more of 'em!" he cried. "Now we're done for, sure!"
"Those aren't Hun planes! They're French!" yelled Bob. "See, they're French! They've circled up behind the Germans! Now we have 'em between two fires!"
And this was just what happened. The French, seeing that the battle of the air was going against their American allies, had hastily sent up a squadron of speedy craft. These arose very high, flew over and above the Germans, out of sight, and then, coming down, attacked them in the rear.
This was too much for Fritz. He had no taste for a battle against even less odds than this. The Fokkers turned to flee, but it was too late for all but two of them. These managed to elude the American and French cloud-fighters and disappeared in the mist in the direction of the German lines. It was presumed they reached there safely.
One after another the German machines were sent down, though at a price, for three Frenchmen were killed and another American went to his death. But he had paved the way with two Hun craft to his credit.
"Now it's over—all but the shouting!" cried Roger, and he was capering about in an improvised dance of joy when Bob cried:
"Look! Look! Here comes a German machine down, and it's going to land right about here! Oh, boy! This is bringing 'em down for keeps!"
His chums looked to where he pointed. A German craft was coming down, but in such fashion that showed it was in volplane control, at least. Swiftly it came down, headed for a field not far from the woods, in the edge of which were the five Brothers.