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.. meta::
   :PG.Id: 45202
   :PG.Title: The Boy Scouts to the Rescue
   :PG.Released: 2014-03-24
   :PG.Rights: Public Domain
   :PG.Producer: Al Haines
   :DC.Creator: George Durston
   :DC.Title: The Boy Scouts to the Rescue
   :DC.Language: en
   :DC.Created: 1921
   :coverpage: images/img-cover.jpg

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THE BOY SCOUTS TO THE RESCUE
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      Cover art

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   .. _`They sent the message quickly, accurately.`:

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      :alt: They sent the message quickly, accurately.

      They sent the message quickly, accurately.

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      THE BOY SCOUTS
      TO THE RESCUE

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      By
      GEORGE DURSTON

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      THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY
      Chicago — AKRON, OHIO — New York

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      Made in U. S. A.

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      Copyright, MCMXXI
      By
      The Saalfield Publishing Co.

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.. _`FROM SHELL CRATER TO FIRST AID`:

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   THE BOY SCOUTS
   TO THE RESCUE

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   CHAPTER I

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   FROM SHELL CRATER TO FIRST AID

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There were three figures lying in the bottom
of the great shell crater that yawned close to the
German line.  It had been made by a French shell,
so a great mound of dirt had been cast up on the
side next the enemy.  One of the bodies in the
close group lay in the stiff, distorted attitude in
which a sudden and horrible death had frozen him.
The second lay quite limp, unseeing, uncaring—the
attitude of a man desperately hurt.  Only the
third, rather small and slender, lay curled up much
as a vigilant cat might, trying to give the impression
of sleep or death, but with every faculty and
nerve like live wires.  His eyes were open, and
with every ounce of force in him he was listening,
plotting and planning.

Under the thick mud the uniforms worn by the
different men were indistinguishable.  The
coating was a thick, slimy, even gray.  The figure
whose alert, piercing eyes studied his surroundings
so carefully shivered steadily.  He was
chilled to the bone.  As it grew darker, he rolled
slowly over on his back, and for a while studied the
edge of the crater as its rough edges showed dark
against the sky.  All seemed well.  Not a head,
not a bayonet, could cut that jagged line without
his knowing it.  The Huns would not make a
sortie now.  Exhausted themselves, they were
depending on the exhaustion of the French for a
short, unspoken truce of a few hours.

The living figure in the crater rolled over and
on hands and knees crept to the body nearest him.
He felt over it carefully.  The face, drained of
blood, was ghastly cold in the steady, fine rain
that beat on it; but there was life in that still body.
If he could only get help!

He laid the head back on its slimy resting place
and crawled carefully to the top of the crater next
the French trenches.  He must get help!  Otherwise
the Lieutenant would die.  The wet ground
gave with him, but he persisted and with a mighty
effort raised his face over the edge.  Then with a
stifled cry he dropped back.  Another face, dim
and strange in the darkness, was there.  It met
him eye to eye, not three inches from his face.

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The cold, drizzling rain fell steadily into the
sodden trench chilling the soldiers who crouched
and huddled against the streaming sides of the
shelter, if shelter it could be called.  The trench
was very close to the enemy.  An almost constant
succession of flares sent up by the Germans lit
the racked and tattered landscape.  In the fitful
light it looked unreal, impossible.

Torn fields, shattered trees, ploughed fields
everywhere, with yawning shell craters on every side.

The expanse of ground between the lines was
made terrible by the shell craters.  Day was
ending, and in the dim, yellow half light the uneven,
edges of the deep and ragged holes threw narrow,
black shadows that seemed to gash the riven fields.
Above, a couple of French airships circled.  The
German planes had disappeared, and the Frenchmen
flew in widening circles above the enemies'
lines.  The roar of the guns had diminished to an
occasional popping, with once in a while a
bellowing roar as some iron giant launched its terrible
missile.  All day the Huns had hammered at the
stubborn line; all day the French, with their
American allies, had hammered in return.  It had
commenced, this big battle, at daybreak; all day had
it raged without lull or pause, now from the
trenches, now frightful conflicts in the open.
Now, as though both sides acknowledged exhaustion
though not defeat, a lull had come.  The men
in the trenches, almost delirious with fatigue,
dropped in the mud and water and slept.  Red
Cross bearers came splashing along with their
burdens.  Men wounded to the death whimpered
pitifully and babbled of home, or bore their agony
in stony silence.  Out somewhere in No-Man's-Land,
the terrible stretch lying between the two
lines, out there in the gathering darkness, a clear,
high tenor voice commenced to sing:

   |  "We're going home, we're going home,
   |  We're going home to-morrow."
   |

Clear and sweet the voice sounded.  Another
flare went up; then a German gun commenced to
drop shells in the direction of the voice.  It was
as though they would gladly waste a dozen shells
on the chance of stilling that sweet singer.  The
voice went on, growing gradually weaker, but lifting
true, sweet notes until there came a little break
and—stillness.  A last venomous shot whined
toward the spot where the singer lay, his young
voice hushed forever.

The darkness deepened, and the flares, increasing
in number, gave the place an unreal, ghastly
light, like some gigantic and unending nightmare.
Something that could not be possible, *must*
not be possible, but which was to go on and on
and on endlessly, relentlessly.

At last it was black night.

A sergeant made his way along the trench,
slipping and sliding through the mud and ooze.  He
gave commands in muffled whispers, and a number
of the exhausted men turned and followed him
when he returned to the outlet of the trench.
Lying so close to the border of No-Man's-Land,
across which it was possible for an occasional
spy to invade their trench, the greatest care was
taken in every possible way to discover and check
such invasion.  When there was no firing to cover
the sound, the men talked in whispers when they
talked at all, which was seldom.  The bitter
business of war had seemed to strip from them all
desire to talk.

They were moving stealthily along when a slight
figure bounded into the trench and slid and
tumbled to the bottom.  He hurried back and forth
the length of the trench, then plunged like a human
ferret into the small, twisted tunnel that led down
and down twenty feet or more underground to the
rest house, a scooped-out chamber of clay where
there was actual safety unless—unless the tunnel
caved!  Looking in on the group of wounded and
exhausted men who occupied the space, he spoke
a name.  No one answered.  The men paid no
attention.  They were wholly wrapped up in their
own misery.  He climbed once more into the
trench, then, glancing round to see if he was
observed, he scrambled lightly up the side and in
another moment was over the top and, flat on
the ground, was wriggling a cautious,
snake-like way across the horrors of No-Man's-Land.

His heart beat heavily; it seemed as though it
could be heard twenty feet away.  He was bent
on a fearful and almost impossible errand; an
errand that might cost him his life.  And life was
sweet to the boy who proceeded to work his way
across the terrible stretch of No-Man's-Land.

He had no reason for going, no plan; simply
something told him the direction to take in his
strange quest.  Every time a flare burst against
the murky sky he dropped flat on his face and,
assuming some strained, distorted position, lay
motionless until the light died out once more.
This happened every two minutes or so.  It took
endless patience to work his way forward.  He
was impelled to hurry, to take the chance of
continuing his course even under the bright light of
the flares.  But he knew that it would be death to
him and possible death to the one he sought.  As
he wormed his way forward he turned slowly to
the right.  Stronger and stronger he felt the
strange certainty that never failed to tell him that
he was right.  He was approaching the person
whom he sought.

The feeling of coming success buoyed him and
gave him courage.  He scarcely dared to breathe.
Slower and slower he crawled, worming his way
along, over and around the horrors in his path.
The moments seemed like hours, the hours like
days.  Finally he came to a huge shell crater.  He
approached its edge and looked over as a flare,
brighter than usual, lit the desolation of
No-Man's-Land.  And as he looked, a face, mud covered,
bruised yet familiar, looked into his.  So close
were the two faces that they nearly touched.  Just
for an instant the face in the deep ditch drew
back; then two voices, whispering in a low tone,
said, "Hello!"

The fellow in the crater sagged wearily against
the steep incline of the side of the pit.  He looked
at the other and sighed a sigh of unutterable relief.

"Gee, I thought you would never come!" he said
in a low tone.

"Keep still!" whispered the other, taking the
boy below him by the collar and scarcely breathing
the words aloud.  "Are you hurt?"

"Not a scratch!"

"Well, take a hand and come along out.  This is
no place for us; and you have some tall explaining
to do to the General!"

"We have to take the Lieutenant with us," said
the boy in the crater.

"What Lieutenant?" demanded the other.

"Lieutenant Bogardus.  The General sent me
after him.  That's why I am here."

"What ails him?" demanded the boy on the ledge.

"All shot up," said the other.  "Darned if I
know how badly.  He is unconscious but was alive
the last time I felt of him."

The boy on top turned cautiously around and
slid, feet first, into the slippery, oozy pit.  He
followed to the side of the unconscious man, and
as the next flare illumined the sky he ran a hand
delicately over the tattered body.  He shook his
head.

"Not much hope, I should say," he whispered.

"It doesn't matter," declared the other; "we
have got to get him back to our lines."

"All right!" said the other.

Together they lifted and pulled the limp body
to the level of the ground, and then as carefully as
they could they lifted it and, stumbling and
swaying and falling, they made their way back.  They
could not wait for caution; the flares went up
unheeded.  A sharpshooter near the enemy's line
discovered the strange, shambling group and
commenced peppering at it as each flare brought them
into view.  The bullets whined over and around
them.  One cut its way through the sleeve of one
boy, but did not touch the skin beneath.  They felt
no fear.  The man whom they were carrying was
thin and rather small, but his limp body weighed
cruelly on their young muscles.  With set teeth
and streaming faces they kept on in their flight.
At last when their breath cut them like knives
and their knees almost refused to support them,
they reached the safety of their own line and,
laying their burden down on the edge of the trench,
they slipped down and in a moment were
surrounded by helpers.  The wounded man was
hustled into the nearest shelter and given first aid,
while a quick little corporal scrambled off and was
back almost at once with stretcher bearers and a
canvas litter.  The two boys accompanied the
wounded man back to the First Aid Station, an
underground, roughly boarded chamber where
desperate looking men worked silently at their task of
keeping life in the tattered forms brought in to
them.

While they labored over the still form just
brought in, the boys dropped wearily down on the
wet ground outside the first aid room, and looked
at each other.

A pale glow from the first aid room below them
shone upward on their white faces.  They were
caked with mud and grime but even through that
mask a marvelous resemblance could be seen.
Feature for feature, line for line, they were alike.
Even their gestures were alike.  As they sat
staring at each other, they looked like some queer,
repeated design; a double boy smirched and hollow-eyed.

They stared steadily at each other, then the boy
on the ledge cleared his throat and spoke, still
in the guardedly low tone that gets to be a habit
with the men in the trenches.

"Well, Porky, old sport," he said, affectionately
patting the other's soggy knee, "you gave me a
nice little old jolt this time for fair!  How in the
name of time did you get out there in that shell
crater?  Gosh, if it wasn't for my hunches I dunno
where you would be when you pull off these
stunts!"

"What's the matter with *my* hunches?" demanded
the boy called Porky.  "I don't see but
what I have about as many as you have.  I was
waitin' for you.  Knew you would hunt me up if
I gave you time."

"Gave me *time*!" exclaimed the boy addressed.
"Gave me *time*!  I hustled out there as soon as I
commenced to feel you wanted me.  Honest, I
don't see how people who are not twins ever get
along.  But I tell you they are laying for you at
headquarters.  The General is mad; just plain
honest-to-goodness mad at you.  I don't see why
you had to pull off this and get us in all
wrong."  He leaned forward and whispered.  "There is
something doing up there—something big; and I
think we are in on it.  I don't know just how, but I
heard enough to let me know that much.  Perhaps
you have queered it by cutting up this caper.
Honest, Porky, what possessed you?"

"Possessed me?" exploded Porky.  "Possessed
me!  Why, all I did was what I was *told* to do!"

"According to the General, you were sent on
an errand that should have taken you half an hour.
Instead you stay all day and I have to come dig
you out of a shell crater about fifty feet from the
German line.  That's a peach of a way to do!"

"Say, hold up a minute!" said Porky.  "Just
you hold on!  Of course I was sent on an errand!
Know what it was?  I was told to go get Lieutenant
Bogardus and fetch him over to the General's
headquarters.  Well, I'm bringing him, ain't I?  I
have got him this far, anyhow.  I am doing the
best I can.  I wish you could have seen me
chasing that loon all over the place.  I'm all in!  I
tell you, Beany, I have had some time!  It makes
me sore, too.  I might have brought in a prisoner
all by myself if I hadn't had to fool with the
Lieutenant.  Go down and see what they are doing,
will you, please?  I'm dog tired, and I've got to
get a move on and report to the General as soon as
I know whether Bogardus can go along up there
with me.  I bet he can't; and I was told to bring
him back with me!"

He leaned back and shut his eyes while Beany
slid down to the first aid room.  A glance showed
him the condition of the unfortunate Lieutenant,
and he hurried back to his brother.

"He won't go anywhere with you *this* evening,"
he said with the unconcern of those who are used to
terrible scenes and fearful wounds.

"Let's get on, then," said his brother, rising
stiffly and moving off in the darkness.

The other followed, and without further
conversation they wound their way through the ruined
streets of a devastated village where unsightly
heaps of stones and mortar marked the site of
pleasant homes.  Stumbling along over the
shell-ploughed, uneven ground, they walked for perhaps
a mile until they turned into what had been a
magnificent private estate.  Nothing but cracked and
crumbling posts were left of the splendid gateway.
They passed onward through the ruins of a
wonderful old park where they were twice stopped by
vigilant sentries who demanded the countersign
and turned a flashlight on their muddy faces.
Turning and twisting, they followed the path up to
the ruined castle which stood on a little rise of
ground.

At the door, a high carved portal hanging and
swaying on one hinge, they were stopped by
another soldier, who recognized them, saluted, and
stepped aside.  They were not delayed again.
Through what had once been a magnificent
entrance hall they went, turned down one passage
after another, sometimes finding themselves in
unroofed and utterly wrecked portions of the great
building.  At last they were in a narrow, covered
hallway, at the end of which was a door.

The hall was quite dark; they could just see to
make their way along.  As they approached the
door at the end, the form of a man stooping
against the panels slipped aside and seemed to
disappear into space.  There was no turn, no
further passage down which he could have gone.
One moment he was outlined against the white
surface; the next he had vanished.

The boys stopped involuntarily and turned to
each other.

"Did you see that?" said Porky.  "Or am I
getting batty?"

"Where did he go!" said Beany quickly for answer.

They slowly approached the door.  There was
a little L in the passage at the end but no outlet,
no doorway.  The walls, heavily faced with
ancient oak, had no opening.

"What was he doing?" said Porky.

"Listening, I should say," said his brother.

They looked the door over carefully, and
listened with keen ears pressed against it.  Not a
murmur could be heard through its heavy surface.
It was queer.  Behind that door was the council
room and private office of General Pershing.  No
one without proper credentials was ever allowed
to enter the passageway leading to it.  Yet both
boys had seen the stooping figure, and both boys
had seen it apparently vanish into space.

"Come on in," said Porky at last.  "I have got
to make my report."

"You go on," said Beany.  "I don't have to
report anything, and I want to look into this a
little.  It looks mighty queer to me.  Where do
you suppose that guy went?"

"Search me!" said Porky.  "I know where *this*
guy will go if I don't get on something dry and
have a chance for a little sleep.  Go ahead, prowl
around and see what you can find."

He knocked, using a peculiar shuffling rap on the
white panel.  The door was instantly opened by
a soldier and Porky stepped into the presence of
the Commanding General.





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.. _`THE PANEL IN THE WALL`:

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   CHAPTER II


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   THE PANEL IN THE WALL

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A pair of piercing yet kindly eyes were fixed on
Porky as he came to attention and awaited
permission to approach the huge table at which sat
General Pershing and several members of his
staff.  Porky was conscious of something serious
in the air.  The faces that looked up as he
entered were serious, and some of them frowning.
Colonel Bright threw him a glance, then continued
his restless tramp up and down the further end
of the large apartment.  Only General Pershing
seemed wholly at ease.  He beckoned the boy.
Porky came and stood opposite the General, the
width of the table between them.

"Your report," said the General.

Porky breathed more freely.  He was to be
given a chance to explain his tardy arrival, at least,
before being reprimanded.

"I report, sir, that I brought Lieutenant Bogardus
as far as the First Aid Station in trench D,"
he said.  "He is unconscious and could not come
here.  They think he will not die."

"He is unconscious," repeated the General,
while Colonel Bright stopped his steady stride and
stared at the boy.

"Yes, sir," said Beany.

"Did you find him at the wireless station?"
asked the General.

"No, sir," said Porky.

"Where then?" snapped the officer with seeming
impatience.

"In a shell crater, sir, just outside the German
lines," said the boy.

The General started to his feet, then settled
back in his chair.

"Make your report," he said quietly.  "Make
it unofficially, in your own way.  I can follow it
better."

"Yes, sir," said Porky, saluting again.  He was
so tired that he swayed, and involuntarily he
caught at the edge of the table.  The keen eyes
watching him noticed.

"A chair!" he demanded, and some one shoved
a seat toward Porky, who gratefully sank into it.
He passed a weary, shaking hand across his brow.

"It is a pity to make you tell your story now,"
said the General kindly.  "I am sorry.  When
you have finished you shall have a rest for a few
days.  But time means everything just now."

"I don't mind, sir," said Porky.  Some one offered
him a cup of hot tea and he drank it greedily.
It revived him.

"I'm awfully obliged, General, sir," he said
gratefully.  "I guess I can tell the story clearer
if I tell it sort of plain and fast.

"I went away from here, and went straight to
the wireless station where you told me.  I found
the men all working over the instrument.  One of
the pins had come loose and had fallen out.  They
couldn't find it anywhere, and they were having a
great fuss.

"The planes were trying to communicate with
them, and signaling them to answer.  One plane
came so low we could see that they were crazy to
say something.  We didn't find out what they
wanted, at least I didn't, because I started on after
Lieutenant Bogardus.  He had left the station
just before I got there.  I kept after him all
afternoon.  It seemed like every place he went, I got
there just after he had gone on.  He had that
bunch of papers you gave him, General, and was
leaving them all around at the different sectors
and with the different officers you had had them
addressed to.  He certainly was a busy chap.  I
never *could* catch up with him.  I guess I walked
a million miles.  It was fierce, too.  Wherever I
went, I found trouble.  Just one of those days,
you know, General."

"I know," said the General, smiling strangely.

"Well, sir, just before dark I was up in that
opening between the trenches, just beyond the next
village, you know, where the church used to stand.
Somebody had told me that Lieutenant Bogardus
had been seen walking that way, and it struck me
that perhaps he had a few hours' leave, and was
just roaming around for a rest.  But I knew I had
to collar him, so I went on looking, and pretty soon
I saw somebody way ahead sort of going along
among the tree trunks, as though he didn't care
much to see anybody.  He had on our uniform,
and I had a hunch it was Lieutenant Bogardus.
So I followed.

"He went on to a rise of ground, and before I
could get close enough to see who it was, he
whipped out a little bit of a pistol that made a
funny little pop when it went off, and he shot it
off; all the shots it held, I guess.  He made a sort
of code of it like a telegraph.  Right off there was
a couple of little pops in the same sort of voice,
from over by the Germans.  I thought it came
from a tree over there.  Anyhow, the man I was
following looked around, didn't see anybody, and
started right across in the open.  Well, sir, that
was pretty queer, it seemed to me!  *Some* one in
our uniform walking around out there and it made
me forget all about Lieutenant Bogardus, and I
commenced to follow.  Only I got down and
crawled.  It was getting darker, but I could see
perfectly plain.  Then I guess somebody saw us,
or a plane reported, or something.  Anyhow, all
at once both sides commenced to shoot.  Well I
thought I was a gone goose, sir.  They hit
everything but me, I should say.  Then the Germans
commenced to throw smoke bombs, and I nearly
lost my man.  But I hurried and most caught up
to him, when I saw a German captain come sneaking
along, and I guessed I would wait before I
spoke to Lieutenant Bogardus, if it *was* him.  Of
course I was sure I was on the wrong trail by this
time, but I thought as long as I was there I had
better see what was doing, and look for
Lieutenant Bogardus when I got back.  I knew
something pretty important was up, because those
men wouldn't risk moseying around right in
daylight almost.  Gee, I didn't feel as big as
anything!

"And in a minute I felt smaller than ever
because a shell the size of a church came along from
our lines, and *bing*!  I was all dirt, and cut up
with little stones, and when I could look around,
there ahead was a big shell crater.  I ran over
and looked in.  There was a bayonet lying there
right on the edge, and I grabbed it.  I don't know
why, except you know how you feel about having
a stick or something to hold and I was pretty glad
I did afterwards.  The man I had followed was
lying there in the shell crater, on his back.  I
could see he was hurt pretty bad.  A flare went
up, and I saw it was Bogardus.  He looked
pretty bad.  But what got my alleys, General,
was that the German was beside him, and he
was going through his pockets just like lightning.
The German had a broken leg himself, but I didn't
know that.  Well, I let out a yell that was some
yell, and I jumped down, bayonet and all, right
on the German's neck.  I was so mad I didn't
think what I did.  And I guess I sort of twisted
his neck or something, because he crumpled right
up, and I thought I had killed him.  So I tried to
straighten Bogardus out, and I put the papers that
the Germ had back in his pocket, and what to do
next I didn't know.

"And all at once I felt something behind me,
and it was the other man.  He had come to, and
was trying to get his revolver out of his pocket.
Gee, he looked at me ugly!  I said as polite as
I could, 'You cut that out!' but he got it loose, and
shot at me, and he just *did* miss me and that was
all.  And then he tried again, and I had to do
something quick, so I just took that bayonet—just
took that bayonet—"

"All right," said the General.  "All in the
day's work, my boy.  Go on!"

Porky swallowed hard a couple of times.

"Well, sir, there I was with Bogardus, and your
orders to have him report to you; and he was not
in any condition to report to *anybody*.  So I had
to wait until my brother could come and help me."

"How did he know where you were?" demanded
the General in astonishment.

"He always knows," said Porky.  "We are
twins, and we always know when the other is in
trouble of any sort.  So I knew he would find me,
and I just sat tight, and I did get a little
worried, but I knew he would come, and he did."

Porky chuckled.

"And when he looked at me over the edge of that
crater, I most threw a fit.  I was looking for him
so hard that it scared me when I saw him.  Anyhow,
there he was, and it was dark pretty soon, and
we brought Bogardus back."

"You carried him?" asked the General.

"Yes, sir.  He is pretty thin," said Porky simply.

"What became of the German?" asked the General.

"Back there in the shell crater," said Porky,
frowning.

"I wonder if he had any valuable papers on
him," mused the General.

"I don't know, sir," said Porky, beginning to
fish in his pockets.  "I thought of that, so I just
went through him and took everything he had."  He
commenced to lay things out on the table in
little piles.  The men watched him with interest.

The collection was well worth while.  Several
official letters, some maps, a number of orders, and
some codes.  There was also a packet of blank
paper that Porky put carefully aside.  The
General leaned over and picked it up.

"Nothing here," he said, tossing it down.

Porky picked it up.

"I don't know, sir," he said.  "We had something
like this at home awhile ago.  We came near
missing out on it, too.  If you will excuse me!"

He leaned over and held the first page near the
heat of the candle.  On the instant the sheet was
covered with fine writing.

The General gave a muttered exclamation and
leaned back in his chair.  "What next?" he
demanded.

"That's about all," said Porky.  "Bogardus is
in hospital by now, I suppose, and I'm sorry it took
me so long.  I certainly did seem to miss him all
around.  I'm real sorry, sir.  Next time you give
me anything to do, I will try to do better."

"That would be impossible," said the General.
"Just a moment, my boy, while I make a note or
two, and then you can be relieved from all duty for
forty-eight hours.  You have earned a rest.  We
will have to go through these papers and plans
carefully before we can decide anything for your
future reference.  Just sit there while I write."

He turned to his desk and, pulling a sheet of
paper toward him, commenced covering it with his
strong, distinctive handwriting.  Porky, in the
big chair opposite, watched him for a little, then
he rested his head on his hand and commenced to
think of all the events of the long, gruelling,
wearisome day.

And presently he did not think at all; just
listened to the steady scratch, scratch, scratch of the
General's pen and the steady tramp, tramp, tramp
of the Colonel as he softly paced up and down the
length of the somber room.  And presently
that sound died away.  Porky was asleep.

Beany, left to himself in the hall, went cautiously
and with noiseless touch over every portion of the
oak paneling.  He could not find a joint or crack
that looked like a secret door or hidden entrance.
Then he examined the floor.  It too appeared
solid.  But Beany had one of his hunches.  It
*looked* solid but he felt that it *wasn't* solid.
The man he had seen was not a ghost.  He
was certainly too solid to disappear into thin air.
He had come from somewhere, and he had gone
somewhere.  Benny made up his mind that he
would find out if it took all night.  He stood
thinking.  Then he whistled in an offhand manner, and
walked loudly down the hall to the turn.  Round
the turn he went, until well out of sight.  Then
Beany tried a trick of his boyhood days.  He knew
from experience that any one watching for any
one else always fixes his eyes about where they
expect to see the face appear, never lower than that.

So Beany, dropping flat on the floor, worked his
way back to the corner, flattened himself out to his
flattest, and with face against the tiles waited
patiently, his eyes fixed on the distant doorway.
The hallway was lighted with a small and feeble
kerosene lamp set high on a bracket.  It gave a
dim light, but Beany could see the door distinctly
and the high wainscot on either side.

He stared at it steadily—so steadily and so long
that when at last a narrow panel in the woodwork
slid noiselessly over and a face looked out into the
hall, Beany did not start; he did not feel
surprised.  All he was conscious of was a sort of
triumph.  He wanted to sing out for his own benefit,
"I told you so."

The face staring from the panel looked straight
down the hall, as Beany had known it would.  A
pair of bright, ferrety eyes stared at the turn,
but not once did they drop to the floor where
Beany's bright eyes watched every move.  Beany
had to smile, it was so funny.  The unknown
person leaned from the panel and watched four feet
above Beany's face, while in plain sight on the
floor Beany lay motionless and unnoticed.

He watched while the person (he could not tell
at first whether it was a man or woman) looked
and listened.  Then as if assured that the coast
was clear, the man, (for it was a man), stepped
out of the dark slit in the wall, carefully closed the
panel, and once more stood listening at the door.
He listened intently, then stooped, and bending in
a comfortable position on one knee, looked fixedly
through the great old-fashioned keyhole.

Beany watched breathlessly.

For a long time—it seemed days to Beany—the
man held his stooping position.  Beany wished he
too could see what was going on inside that door.
He was sure, however, that it was nothing more
exciting than Porky's account of his chase after
Bogardus; and as Porky was an aggravatingly
low talker, he was pretty sure the man at the
keyhole would not be able to hear very much.  Just
the same, Beany knew that here was something
serious and threatening.  The man listened and
looked so intently that Beany seriously thought of
trying to creep up behind him, give the alarm,
grab him and hang on, trusting to luck that the
door would be opened soon enough to prevent the
man from killing him.  It was a crazy idea and
Beany banished it.  It was well that he did, for at
that moment the panel, which had been left partly
opened, slid wide and a second man appeared.  He
was a tall man, apparently in uniform.  What his
uniform was, Beany could not see.  It was closely
covered with a long, closely-buttoned linen coat
and a nondescript cap covered his head.  He
tapped the man at the keyhole sharply, and the
fellow straightened to a stiff salute.  Beany could
not help admiring their utter coolness in the face
of discovery.  At any moment the door might
open; at any moment some one might come down
the hall.  Of course in that case, reflected our
self-appointed sleuth, they would walk over his legs,
and stop to make a fuss, during which the two men
would pop into the wall again.

Then while Beany watched, there followed a
violent, soundless discussion between the two.  One
and then the other stooped to the keyhole.  Then
the second man noiselessly stepped back into
the hole in the wall and closed the panel after him.

By this time Beany was so excited that he had
no conception of time.  It seemed a long while
before he saw the man at the door turn his head
and look at the panel.  Then at last Beany saw
what he so wanted to see—the secret of its
opening.  The man's hand sought something in the
upper left corner, Beany could not see in the poor
light just what it was, but the man pressed hard,
swinging considerable weight against it, and the
panel slid smoothly back.  Another figure
appeared.  It was a little, stooped woman.  She had
a worn broom in her hands.

Beany recognized her at once as the deaf and
dumb peasant woman who pottered around the
offices brushing up and doing what odd jobs they
could make her understand about.

At the present moment, however, she was anything
but deaf and dumb.  She seized the man at
the door by the shoulder and shook him violently,
whispering a stream of comment in his ear.  She
waved her broom threateningly, with an eye on
the door meanwhile.  Beany wondered what she
would do if any one *did* come out.

He felt sure she would manage to carry off the
situation.

Whatever she said was badly received by the
man.  He pulled back and shook his head violently.
She stamped her old foot noiselessly.  He
still rebelled, but she insisted in a continuous rush
of whispered words, while Beany felt his mouth
sag open and his eyes bulge with amazement.
Even in the midst of his surprise he could not help
wondering just what personal remarks he and
Porky had made about her on a dozen different
occasions in the few weeks that they had been
there.  However, there was *one* happy thought.
He and his brother had spoken in English, a tongue
that must as a matter of course have meant
nothing to her ignorant old ears.

Beany was not to learn for a long while that the
old, stooped, ugly peasant, looking so typically
French and so pitifully silent and stupid, had once
been a famous German actress, as well as one of
the most brilliantly educated women of her time.
Once there had been a day when her parlors in
Berlin had been filled with the most renowned
and high-born men and women in the world.  Not
only members of the highest circles of Germany,
but representatives from every other country.
To be asked to the home of Madame Z—— was the
dream of every young diplomat, writer, artist and
court favorite.

Yet now, perfectly disguised, stooped, bent, and
old, clad in rags, she stood clutching in one hand a
coarse home-made broom, while with the other
she kept a tight grip on the shoulder of the
rebellious man beside her.

At last he nodded, and she turned and shoved
him before her into the passage in the wall,
following close behind and closing the panel.

Beany was alone.

He leaped to his feet and tiptoed down to the
door, a cautious eye on the panel.  He lifted a
hand to knock on the door, then paused, and in
his turn applied an eye to the keyhole.  It was a
huge old keyhole, made in the days when keys were
large enough to almost take the places of trench
billies.  He could see most of the room.  The
General sat writing at the desk.  Across in an
armchair Porky leaned on the table, sound asleep.
There had been nothing for the spies to see this
time, at any rate.  Then a wild thought came into
Beany's head.

He did not wait to consider it.  It was a crazy
thought, but to Beany in his excited state it was a
sane idea.

He approached the panel, felt carefully in the
upper corner, pressed a dozen carvings and then,
just as he despaired, felt the heavy wood give
under his touch.  He pushed the trap open and
without a moment's hesitation entered and closed
the door behind him.

The passage was pitch dark.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`MARKING TIME`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER III


.. class:: center medium bold

   MARKING TIME

.. vspace:: 2

Sitting at his great carved table, once part of
the fittings of a glorious old library and now a
desk littered with official papers and maps, in the
room of one of the greatest commanders in the
world, the General finished the paper he was filling
out with so much care, and lifted his eyes to the
boy sitting so silently across the table.  Then a
smile lighted the General's tired eyes.

"Asleep!" he said.  "Brave lad, he is worn
out!  Can't we manage to get him off to bed
without waking him?"

He pointed to a room opening off the one they
were in.  "There is an extra cot in my room,"
said the General.  "A couple of you take him in
there."  He beckoned his orderly.  '"Get him
undressed and cover him well.  Let him sleep as long
as he may."

So it came about that this was done; and in the
General's own room, Porky, like the healthy boy
that he was, slept and slept and slept.  He did not
dream of the past hard hours.  He did not think
of home, the pleasant house so far away where the
dear father and mother, Mr. and Mrs. Potter,
lived their busy, helpful lives, trying not to let
each other know just how they longed for the two
splendid boys they had given to their country.
But like others who had given their all, each knew
just how the other felt, and so tried by countless
little unaccustomed acts of tenderness to help each
other along.  Nor did Porky dream of the other
boys, or the famous swimming hole.  There were
no nightmares of school; no visions of Professor
Wilcox bearing a sheaf of examination papers.
Porky just slept and slept!

Night passed, breaking into such a wild and
storm-tossed morning that it was scarcely light at
all.  There was a lull in the fighting that day and,
except for the sound of distant guns booming at
close intervals, the place was silent enough.  The
office work went on quietly.  A couple of typewriters
clacked busily.  It might almost have been
an office on Broadway.  The General sat long at
his desk, then mounted and rode off, accompanied
by his orderlies.

Colonel Bright, after scribbling a note which he
addressed to "the Potter boys" and left on the
desk, also took his horse and went clattering away
toward Paris.

Noon came.  Still Porky slept, but at about two
o'clock he was awakened by the most faithful of all
the alarm clocks that a boy can have.  He was
hungry, he was frightfully hungry, and his eyes came
open with a pop as he rose to his elbow and tried
to place himself.

When he recognized his surroundings, he
bounded to his feet in a moment, and after some
prodigious stretching, hurried into his clothes,
which he found nicely dried and on a stool by his
cot.  There was a table by the cot, and on it a
good breakfast; cold, of course, but it was food,
and there was plenty of it.  What more can a
fellow ask?

When he went out into the office expecting to
find the group he had left the night before, there
were only a couple of Captains, strangers to him,
officers who had just been transferred.  Porky,
found the note from Colonel Bright.

It said simply:

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent

   "*Boys*:

.. vspace:: 1

"General Pershing has gone away for a conference.
I am off on almost the same errand, in
another direction.  When you wake up, Porky,
you are to do as you like for forty-eight hours.
It is a leave given you on account of your good
work yesterday.  I have not seen Beany at all
to-day.  I enclose a pass that will take you wherever
you want to go within the lines.  Don't go to the
outer trenches.  Better take time to write some
letters home.  We are in for some hot work here.
I don't mind telling you that there is a leak
somewhere.  Keep your eyes and ears open.

.. vspace:: 1

.. class:: noindent white-space-pre-line

   "Your friend,
      "COLONEL BRIGHT."

.. vspace:: 2

Porky folded the note and put it deep down in
his pocket.  Then he turned to look at the two
officers.  One of them was running the typewriter
like a veteran; the other, with a puckered brow,
was stabbing the keys with his middle fingers.  He
was making awful work of it.

Porky watched him for a while, then he went
over and saluted.

"I would be glad to write to your dictation, sir,"
he said.  "That is, if it is nothing personal."

"Well, I should say not!" said the officer.  "I
am Captain Dowd, and this is a letter to a
military journal back home.  They wrote me some
time ago for some dope, and I jotted down
something then.  It is on scraps of paper, and they
couldn't read it as it is now written.  I wanted
to put it in shape, and then add something of our
later experiences.  Do you think you can do it,
and do you want to take the trouble?"

"Yes, sir," said Porky heartily.  "I just woke
up, and there is nothing for me to do until my
brother blows in.  There is no use for me to go
after him, because he knows where I am.  I can
write it for you in no time."

"That's fine!" said the Captain in a relieved
tone.  "At the rate I can work that old machine,
the war will be over about the time I finish; and
that's not hurrying the war any too much either.
I have a page done.  You may go on from where I
left off if you will."

Porky sat down and the Captain drew up a
chair, and lighted a cigarette while he scanned
the soiled, ragged sheets of paper in his hand.

"Here we are," he said.  "Fire away!"

"We are now getting the finishing touches to
our training, and you can rest assured that it is of
the most finished description, and we are ready
to get into the big fight at any time.  Our
regiment, one of the first over, was inspected by
General Pershing the other day, and we feel that he
was fully satisfied with it.  We have been told so
at any rate.  Our regiment has learned the French
open order drills which is by sections instead of
squads.  We have also had any amount of rifle
shooting and certainly know how to shoot.  Then,
besides, we have had practice in throwing live
hand-grenades until our arms ached, but the use
of this deadly bomb is of the utmost importance
for close fighting as one grenade properly thrown
among the enemy is liable to wipe out a hundred
men.  Besides this, we have been taught to shoot
hand-grenades and automatic rifles, and do about
everything that is infernal in warfare.  Our
regiment and many of the others have all been
supplied with steel helmets, which have been dubbed
'tin lizzies.'  They are not so very comfortable
to wear, but they have proved extremely valuable,
just the same, and have saved many lives and
more bad head wounds.

"We understand that the gas we are to greet
the Germans with is a better article than their
own.  We surely do hope it is.  We have had
trench work galore, with dugouts and wire
entanglements, some of them close on the enemy's front,
and others in our own training area.  We have
marched about ten miles to the trenches, relieving
other battalions about three A.M. and holding the
trench until about six P.M. next day.  At that time
we are relieved by another battalion and get back
to our billet about ten P.M. and by that time, what
with trench work and the tramp of twenty miles,
oh how precious we do find sleep!

"When we are within our training area, we do
everything exactly as it is done on the firing line,
including the guard work, which is divided into
two reliefs, and everybody turns out at dawn,
which is the usual time the enemy makes his raids,
and we must be on the alert.

"We have had long marches, battalion, regimental
and divisional maneuvers, and we always
march with full pack and a gas mask slung over
each shoulder."

The Captain laid down his papers and rolled
another cigarette.  Porky rested his hands on the
desk.

"They have some new kind of mask, haven't
they?" he asked.

"Yes; haven't you seen them!" asked the Captain.

"No, sir," said Porky.  "I just heard them
talking about them."

"They are similar to the old ones, but I believe
they last longer," said the Captain.  "They have
a filter can for the air that is strapped at your belt
Then there is the usual tube to your mouth.  There
is a rubber cap that sets over the front teeth and
fits close to the gums, with little rubber dew
hickeys to bite on so you won't lose it out.  There are
automatic rubber lips that close tight if you try to
breathe in any outside air, but open for the air
from the filter can."

Once more he picked up his papers.

"Our gas masks and our rifles we consider our
best friends and never lose them.

"Perhaps some data regarding the numerous
details of the military life we have to meet here
may be of interest, and I will give you some of it.

"Stringent orders have been given to all organization
commanders that they will be held strictly
responsible for any dirty or rusty arms and
equipment found among their men, and they must also
see that their men are clean-shaven and that their
billets are clean and orderly.

"A number of men who have disregarded
orders have been seriously injured while riding on
the top of cars.  The French tunnels are very
low, and the men have been knocked off.  Other
men, through carelessness, have fallen out of the
cars.  The failure to assemble organizations at
the time set before the departure of trains has
resulted in the leaving of a number of men behind,
and the provost guards have had the job of
rounding the men up and forwarding them to their
command.

"Even in France the destination of the detachment
must be kept absolutely secret throughout the
journey.  No matter how long or how short the
journey turns out to be, the preparations are the
same.  Organizations must entrain with two days'
field rations on the person of each man, two days'
travel rations for each man in the car with men,
and ten days' field rations in the baggage car.

"The field train of the organization entraining,
must accompany it, with all its wagons loaded for
the field, especially with the cooking utensils, water
cans, paulins, three days' field rations for each
man, together with two days' field rations for each
animal.

"The French town major points out the training
area and no other area can be used.  Distances to
other posts will generally be found on posts on the
side of the road, shown in kilometers.  A
kilometer is five-eighths of a mile.

"All time commences at naught, and ends at
twenty-four.  Thus, for instance six P.M. would be
eighteen."

"That's what gets my goat!" said Porky,
stopping to fix the ribbon.  "It does make the longest
day, even after you get the hang of things, so you
know whether you are in to-day, or some time next
week."

"It would seem something that way," said the
Captain, laughing.  He continued to read from
his paper.

"All troops proceeding to the front will have
issued to them a small quantity of firewood with
which to cook one meal on detraining.  In the area
of concentration a supply train will be forwarded
each day to the rail head, from which supplies
will be carried to the troops by the wagons of
the train.  All arrangements for the movements
of troops and supplies by rail are made by the
railway transport officer at the base port."

"Gee, some busy officer!" commented Porky.

"I'll say so," said the Captain, and went on
reading.

"French military trains are made up as follows:
One passenger car (first- or second-class, or
mixed), thirty box cars, or third-class cars;
seventeen flat or gondola cars; two caboose; total, fifty.
Third-class cars are not provided for troops.
They will carry eight men to a compartment.  Box
cars are usually provided for the troops.  They
will hold from thirty-two to forty men.
Sometimes seats are provided, sometimes straw to lie
on.  Spaces at each end of the car are to be left
clear for rifles, travel rations, and accouterments,
the rifles being secured by a temporary rack made
with screw rings and a strap for same.  The horse
cars hold eight horses in two rows of four, facing
each other.  The central space between doors is
used for saddles and harness, forage, water cans
and buckets, as well as the two men who travel in
each car.  Flat cars usually accommodate one, but
sometimes two, wagons."

The Captain folded up the paper.

"Is that all?" asked Porky.  "It sounds mighty
interesting."

"I would like to add something more, if you
don't mind writing it," said, the Captain.

"Of course not," said Porky.  "I'm mighty
glad to do it."

"Thanks," said the Captain.  "It is certainly
a relief to me."  He leaned back in his chair,
stared up at the ceiling, and commenced to dictate.

"The pages sent under this cover were jotted
down by me some time ago.  I can not give you the
exact date, and up to the present time have not
had the opportunity to put my notes in readable
order or to get them mailed.  We are now doing
very interesting work at the front, living
underground.  We have very comfortable and well
ventilated quarters, and are sleeping in bunks, on
clean bed sacks filled with clean straw.  The only
objection is the rats, of which there are great
numbers, but we have a cat and two dogs.  The cat is
a crackajack.  I don't know how many rats he
averages a day—would be afraid to say, in fact—but
he is on the job all the time, and is wearing
himself thin over it.  The two dogs, small and of
no known breed, run the cat a close second.

"I have never seen the boys happier than they
are now.  They feel as if they were really doing
something worth while.  I have heard the German
shells and have seen German territory, and it
certainly puts pep into a fellow, but as yet I can't
say I've been scared.

"This place has seen some very heavy fighting,
and the ground is covered with all sorts of debris.
For many square miles there is not a single tree
to be seen which has not been hit and killed.  The
ground is torn up to such an extent that there is
no grass to be seen, and the only way I can describe
it is to say that it looks like the ocean on a very
rough day.  The shell holes run into each other,
and are often ten or twelve feet deep and thirty
feet across.  This place, which was once a French
village, has been taken from the Germans, and the
ground is covered with unexploded shells,
hand-grenades, German helmets, old rifles, and all sorts
of things that would make wonderful souvenirs
if we could only get them home.  In every little
village around here, there is not a house or tree
standing.  I am writing in a room in the wing of
what was once a magnificent old castle.  It was
evidently saved from destruction by the Germans,
who wished it for the accommodation of their
higher officers.  We are using it for that same
purpose.

"One of the most interesting things here is to
watch the airplanes, both ours and the Germans.
They are very hard to hit, and they usually don't
pay much attention to the firing, but we watch the
little bursts of white smoke from the French shells,
and the black smoke from the Germans.  I have
often seen twenty-five or thirty little puffs of
smoke at the same time around one machine, but
have never seen one hit.  The other day a
German came over in a cloud while other German
planes attracted the attention of our guns.

"He went right up to one of our observation
balloons and fired his machine gun into the
balloon, setting it on fire.  The two men, an
American and a Frenchman, came down in a parachute.
They said they didn't mind it.  Perhaps they
didn't, but both were about as pale as they could
be.  I watched the whole performance.  To-day
we sent up another observation balloon with
exactly the same result, except that the balloon didn't
burn, but both men jumped out, coming down in
two parachutes.

"It was exciting and a very pretty sight to see
the white silk parachutes open up and glisten in
the sun.  Both landed safely, and wanted to go
up again immediately, but could not, owing to the
damaged balloon.

"There is some firing going on most of the time,
even when there is no pitched battle, and our guns
shake the dugout a bit, but we are supposed to be
safe here underground and, anyway, the Boche
shells don't seem to come this way, though we
often hear them.  By the way, our machine guns
drove the Boche planes off this afternoon, and the
balloon was pulled down safely.

"Another day, if I remain unhurt, which I have
every intention of doing, I will give you further
details of the life and work.  As I said in the
beginning, the men are well and happy.  Strange as
it may seem, there is much less illness than there
in the training camps at home.  I can't make
this out unless the men as a general rule reach
here greatly benefited by the sea voyage.  Certainly
the work is much harder, the conditions no
better, and I guess 'sunny France' is an invention
of the poets.  However that may be, our splendid
fellows are fit and fine, trim, and hard.  We are
going to win!"

The Captain leaned over and clapped Porky on
the shoulder.  "Kid, you're a brick!" he said.
"That's all, and thank you a thousand times.  It
ought to hold 'em for a while, don't you think?"

"I should say it was some letter," said Porky.
"And you are perfectly welcome."  He rose and
looked at his wrist watch, frowning as he did so.
"Most night again," he said.  "Seventeen o'clock
by their queer old way of counting.  It's mighty
funny where my brother is."  He walked restlessly
to the window and with unseeing eyes stared
hard at the ragged uptorn world outside.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`WHERE WAS PORKY?`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER IV


.. class:: center medium bold

   WHERE WAS PORKY?

.. vspace:: 2

Where *was* Beany?

Beany himself, trussed up neatly with many
cords and wearing a scientific gag which made
speech or yells impossible, yet which did not hurt
him very much, would have been glad to have been
able to answer that question.

Where was Beany?  Beany didn't know where
Beany was, and also he felt a natural and lively
curiosity as to where Beany was *going* to be in
the near future.

He had entered the passage in the wall on the
spur of the moment; he had acted without counting
the possible cost or the probable consequences.

Usually the boys acted together; if possible, they
always left some clue for the other to follow.
Hence they had hitherto come out of some pretty
dark and serious scrapes with whole skins and a
desire for further adventures.  But this time
Porky, in the General's office, Porky, sound asleep
with his head on the General's desk, could not
know that his twin brother was faring forth alone
on a desperate adventure.  If he had known at the
moment what was happening, if any warning could
have pierced his sleep-drugged brain, well, this
story would not have been written.

Beany popped into the secret passage and slid
the panel shut behind him with a careless
backward-reaching hand.  His eyes and his thoughts
were on the pitchy dark before him.  He thought
with a sense of relief that he had a tiny flashlight
in his pocket, but whether it would flash when
required to do so was quite another matter.

Beany was bitter on the subject of flashlights,
knowing well how apt they are to respond to every
touch when not required particularly to do so,
and having learned by sad experience that it was
when the festive burglar was *in the room*, the pet
kitten *down the well*, or the diamond *in the crack*
that they would not flash at all.  So he merely felt
of the pocket where the flash reposed, and stood
silent, back against the panel, waiting to accustom
those marvelous eyes of his to the dense darkness.

Beany Potter had a gift given to few—eyesight
that served him almost equally well by day or by
night.  There was scarcely a limit to his strange
focus.  And at night, like members of the cat
family, he was able to make out not only forms, but in
many cases features and colors as well.

When he had become used to the pitch blackness
of the tunnel, he discovered that he was in an
arched stone passage just wide enough for one
person to walk without brushing the sides.  It wound
forward on an incline, and ten feet from where
Beany stood turned a corner.  Still forgetful of
danger, he ran noiselessly forward and gained the
turn, where he stood listening.  There was not a
sound to guide or warn him, so he went on, scarcely
breathing.  His footsteps made not the slightest
sound, and he could feel that there was something
soft and deadening under his feet, either fine sand
or bran, or something of that nature, that had
been spread for the purpose of stifling the sound
of passing steps.  Now he could clearly hear
voices above, and decided that he was near or
right under the room where the General had his
office and held all his staff meetings.

Beany stopped at once and commenced tracing
the sound.  After a little he found the source.  At
one side of the passage a common funnel was set
in the wall.  Beany placed his ear to the funnel
and was startled by the clearness with which he
was able to distinguish sounds in the General's
office.  He could hear the scratching of the pen as
the General wrote, the steady tramp, tramp of
Colonel Bright as he paced the room.  Even the
steady breathing of his sleeping brother was
plainly audible.

Beany seized the edge of the funnel and was
about to tear it loose but decided that it was better
to leave it apparently untouched.  So he rammed
his handkerchief tightly down the neck of the
funnel, and chuckled to note that the sounds from the
room were suddenly silenced.  If any one should
come behind him and try to listen, they would get
one good big surprise, but no information, for the
handkerchief was packed well out of sight.

This done, Beany turned and, smiling over his
precious information, started back, when a sound,
a far distant sound, rooted him to the spot.  It
was a woman crying in a low stifled tone.  "Oh,
oh, oh!" cried the voice with choking sobs.

Then another voice spoke, and a sneering, low
laugh floated back to Beany.  The sobbing voice
cried out again in English.

"Oh, don't!  Oh, please!  Oh, I can't tell you
because I don't know!  Don't hurt him!  Don't
hurt him!"

Beany forgot that he was alone, unarmed, a
boy.  He forgot the dark passage; he forgot
caution.  Afterwards he wondered why he did not
think to call up the funnel for the help he needed.
He just turned and, trusting to his wonderful eyes
to take him safely over the black unknown path,
he ran swiftly in the direction of the voice.

Around a corner, down a short, straight passage,
around another corner, then through a low,
narrow door that swung half way open, Beany
shot into a large room or cavern.  He did not
stop to see where he was, but continued his chase
across the space.  There was another door
beyond.  A light shone through this door and Beany
headed for it.  From within the choked sobbing
continued.  Half way he smashed into something—a
piece of heavy furniture of some sort.  He
rebounded as if from a blow, and staggered.  Before
he could get his balance again, a form appeared
against the light in the door ahead and another
form seemed to take shape from the dark bulk of
the piece of furniture he had stumbled against.
He was seized in a pair of steel-muscled arms, a
heavy cloth was thrown over him and rolled tightly
around him.

In the instant he was made helpless, powerless.

He heard rapid orders.  Through the thick
cloth he could see a dim glimmer of light.  He was
laid down on a couch of some sort, and tied, hands
and feet.

Then and only then was the heavy cloth removed,
and Beany, blinking in the glare of half
a dozen electric lanterns, stared at the group
around him.

He was lying on a great bed that was occupying
the middle of the room.  It seemed a funny place
for a bed, but later Beany noticed that the
moisture was thick on the walls and was dripping down
the corners.  The middle was about the only dry
place.  The covers had been luxurious—soft and
silken comfortables padded with feathers, and
delicate blankets, but they were soiled and torn
by careless spurs.  At the foot of the bed, staring
at him with amazement in her face, was the old
scrubwoman.  It was evident that she recognized
him.  She had seen him often enough, Beany
reflected.  He returned her look and nodded.  A
big man, the one in the duster, standing close at
Beany's side, noted the nod and rasped out a
remark, directing it at the old woman.  She did
not condescend to notice him.  Two other men
were there.  From the inner room the sobbing
continued.  Beany scowled.  He fixed his eyes on
the old woman.

"Somebody is being hurt," he remarked.

No one spoke.  Beany did not take his eyes
from the woman's face.

"I know you can hear," he informed her, "and
I bet my hat you speak English!  I wish you would
talk and tell me who is getting hurt.  I can't do
any harm just at present."

The woman continued to stare at him for a
moment, then bared her toothless gums in a
cackling laugh.  She nodded quite gaily.

"No, you can't do much harm either now or
later, my little sparrow-hawk."

She spoke in clear, perfect English, with only
the slightest accent to betray her German blood.

"I liked you two boys, up above.  You were
always agreeable to the poor old deaf and dumb
woman.  No sneers, no jokes about her, always
nice and pleasant.  Two nice boys!  Made just
alike, and such fonny names—Peany and Borky;
so fonny!"  She laughed again.

The man in the duster commenced to swear in
German.  Beany knew it was swearing, and
recognized it as German.

The old woman raised her hand.

"Calm yourself, Excellency!" she said, with the
air of royalty.  "There is no need for excitement.
Why should I not say what I please to this foolish
child who has made such a great mistake; ah, such
a great mistake?"

"It iss his last!" snarled the man in the duster,
breaking into English.  "His last; his last!" he
kept repeating.

"Calm yourself," said the old woman, frowning.
"We know that; it is all so easy; why do you
annoy yourself?  I am only sorry that it is one of
those nice boys.  Such pleasant, *polite* boys!  The
other will feel the lonesomeness very much; is it
not so, my little sparrow-hawk?"

She smiled in the boy's face.  Then she came
to the side of the bed, and with a not ungentle
hand arranged him in a more comfortable position.
Then she touched the man in the duster,
whom she called Excellency, and together they
went into the farthest corner of the big room and
whispered for a long time, while the two other
men stood motionless beside the bed and watched
Beany as closely as though they thought he might
float off through the ceiling.  Presently, as though
they had come to a decision, Excellency returned,
the old woman, whom he called Madame, at his
side.  They too stood and looked long at the boy.

"How did you get here?" asked Madame finally.

"Through the panel," said Beany, who knew
there was no use keeping back anything they could
so easily find out for themselves.

The old woman started to ask another question
when the low sobbing in the other room was
accented by a moan.  With a glance at Beany's
cords, the group beside him all went out of sight
through the open doorway.  In a few moments
there was silence, with the sound of heavy breathing.

"Drugged!" guessed Beany.

Presently the two men returned.  They took
Beany from the bed, and sat him down in a chair,
binding his legs tightly and, after searching him
for a pistol, released his arms.  A cord cunningly
wrapped around his waist held him firmly in his
seat.  Beany was glad to have his hands free.

Hours passed.  Beany felt cramped and was
furiously hungry.  His brain milled round and
round in a ceaseless effort to find some way out of
the situation.  He did not feel proud of this last
exploit.  He had acted rashly and without the
least glimmer of caution.  He knew well that he
was doomed.  There was no possible finish but
death, and if it could be a swift death without
torture, it would only be on account of the ray of
friendship that Madame felt for the two youngsters
who had respected her infirmities and age.

Beany was against a blank wall.  Knowing
that he had no possible chance of escape, Madame
climbed up on the bed, the three men disappeared
in the inner room, and finally, to his amazement,
Beany too dozed off, although he could not help
thinking that it was not at all the thing to do
under the circumstances.

When he woke, he was dazed and stiff.  His
legs, strapped tightly to the chair, felt asleep.
Madame, fully dressed, as she had lain down hours
before, sat blinking on the side of the bed.

"Well!  Wie befinden sie sich?" she said,
grinning at the prisoner.

Beany accepted the friendly tone, although he
did not understand the words.

"Morning!" he offered in return.

Madame clapped her wrinkled hands sharply.

The man who had stared through the keyhole appeared.

"Coffee!" said Madame abruptly.  It was a command.

The man saluted and withdrew, to return with
a tray and a.  steaming cup.  Madame sat sipping
the boiling draft, gazing at the boy meanwhile.

"It is really too bad," she said finally, in her
careful, clear English.  "Such a boyish, *silly*
thing to do!  And you see how it is.  You are such
a nice boy; I do hate to let them kill you, yet you
cannot go back; you must see that.  However, you
shall have an easy way.  I shall assert my
authority.  You look surprised.  Do you think it strange
that so old a woman, so *frightful* an old woman,
should still have authority?  Even so, I have
plenty of it.  I am powerful.  If I chose, I could
call the Emperor cousin.  What do you say to that?"

She seemed to expect an answer.  Beany did
not know what to say, but after a pause in which
she stared at him unwinkingly, he managed to
retort, "Some dope!"

"Indeed, yes!" said Madame, to whom the
slang was Greek.  "Indeed, yes!  Well, your
coming has spoiled nothing but your own life.  We
have the information that we want, we have two
prisoners who are most valuable.  The others will
go on to-day, while I, the cousin of an emperor,
will for the time continue to wait on those pigs of
officers upstairs.  Deaf and dumb!"

She laughed silently, with queer little cackles.
Then setting down the empty cup, she went into
the inner room.

Beany sat thinking the big thoughts that come
at hours so filled with doom.  Yet somehow it did
not seem possible to him that he was to be snuffed
out so soon; he, Beany Potter!  He looked at his
wrist watch.  The crystal was broken but the
watch was still running.  Beany started to wind it,
then stopped.  What would be the use?

"Well, it may as well go as long as I do," he
reflected, and finished winding it.  It sounded loud
as thunder in the quiet room.

He commenced to think of his brother with all
his might.  His spirit called to him over and over.
He thought again of the time and remembered that
although he had looked at his watch, he had not
noticed the time at all.

Once more he looked.  To his amazement it was noon.

Beany commenced idly feeling through his pockets.
If he could only find some way of communicating
with Porky before it was too late!  All at
once his fingers closed on an object that he knew.
His face lighted.....  If there was any way—Oh,
if there was *any* way!

Then Beany's clean boy soul went down upon
its knees, while Beany, lashed to the chair, closed
his eyes and prayed.  Earnestly, humbly he
prayed for help; and then, feeling that he had
done all he could in the way of asking, opened his
eyes and set his whole mind on Porky.  He kept
his hand in his pocket closed on the object he had
chanced on.

Presently the two men came back, untied the
cords that bound Beany to the massive chair, tied
his hands behind his back, untied his ankles and
led him into the inner room.  Beany flashed a
curious glance around it.

The room was not dark, like the room he had
just left.  It was well lighted by grated windows
overgrown outside with heavy underbrush.
Beany guessed that they were away from the
ruined castle itself and somewhere out on the
grounds.  There was more furniture, and another
bed like the one in the room that he had just left.

On this tumbled couch lay a form closely covered
with a blanket.

"Dead, whoever he is," said Beany to himself.

Facing him was a straight chair and in it, bound
and gagged, was a young man in the uniform of
the French army.  He was trussed up until
movement of any sort seemed impossible.  Most of
his face was covered with the cloths that formed
the gag, but over the bandages a pair of sharp,
intelligent eyes flashed a message to Beany.  He
had been buffeted and racked, threatened with all
the horrors imaginable and subjected to some of
them, but from out those eyes looked a spirit that
blows could never break and death itself could
never quell.  Beany returned the look with a long
gaze.  He underwent a new agony.  Not only was
he unable, through his foolhardy action, to save his
own life, but here was another as well that he could
not save.  For he knew that the youth before him
must be doomed.  His gaze roved to the bed.
There was something strangely graceful and soft
about the outlines of the form under the comfortable.
He felt his hair prickle on his head.  All
at once he knew.  It was a girl!  It had been *her*
voice he had heard sobbing.  As he looked, he
hoped and prayed that she was indeed dead.  He
stifled a groan.

Madame gave an order.  He was once more
fastened securely in a chair and the old woman
came beside him and offered him a paper and pencil.

"You may write a note to that twin brother of
yours," she said.  "We are through with this
underground hole.  It is damp, anyway.  I do not
need any further help.  But you shall write and
tell your brother where to look for you.  I will
see that he gets it in good season.  Not to-day,
nor yet to-morrow.  Little boys in these war-times
must be taught not to meddle.  Write what you will."

Beany took the pencil obediently, and wrote:

.. vspace:: 2

"Open panel at right of office door by pressing
upper left-hand carving.  Send some one else to
look for me.  Love to Mother and Father.
Good-by.

.. vspace:: 1

.. class:: noindent

"BEANY."

.. vspace:: 2

Madame took the brief note and read it.  "That
is short, but it will do," she said.  Then she turned
to the others.  "As soon as it is dark take your
prisoners to the foot of the garden.  There will be
a French car there.  The girl, as you know, is to
be taken unharmed.  Go to our own base.  We
will make her speak when we get her there.  You
know what to do with this other."

She picked up a broom and grinned down at
Beany.  "I am going up to see what they are
doing above.  Don't you wish you had had the sense
not to meddle?"

As she passed him Beany strained forward
against his bonds and caught her by the dress.
He clasped her knees in his agony.

"Please, *please*, Madame!" he cried.  "*Please*
don't let them kill me!  I promise that I won't
tell!"  His voice went up in a cry that was almost
a whine.  The old woman broke away from him
in disgust.

"Bah!  You are all alike! live, live, live
always!  Why don't you learn to die, you Americans!
That is what we have got to teach you!"  She
struck him smartly across the face, and moved
to the door with a backward look of command.

"Be ready when I return," she said.  "In the
meantime *not a sound*!"  She grinned at Porky.
"I will see you once more, young man," she
chuckled, and left the room.

As the door hid her from view, Beany drew a
long breath.  He seemed strangely excited and
relieved.  Once more he consulted his watch.  It
would be at least an hour before dark.  There was
a fighting chance.  Death or life?  Life or death?
His fate was trembling in the balance.

Where was Porky?





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`TO THE RESCUE`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER V


.. class:: center medium bold

   TO THE RESCUE

.. vspace:: 2

Porky was getting worried.  It was growing
late, and there was no sign of Beany.

He asked a couple of the aides when they came
in if they had seen anything of his brother, but no
one had any news for him.  Porky looked into the
narrow hall at intervals, and twice he went out
and wandered around the grounds that surrounded
the castle.  But nothing of Beany!

Finally he returned to the office, and took up his
station at the window where he could see far down
what had been the drive.  The office was in a room
in what had been the wing, and jutted out into
the space now soiled and useless, which had once
been a lovely, widespread garden of lawns and
flowers, but which now looked worse than any
ploughed field.

Something kept pulling at Porky's heart.  He
knew the feeling, had had it often; and it told him,
as it always did, that his twin brother, whom he
loved so well, was in trouble and needed him.
Usually he felt something that impelled him to go
in a certain direction in search of Beany;
something, a *force* directing him—he never could tell
just what it was.  But he always obeyed it, and so
did Beany, to whom the same feelings came.  But
now Porky sat irresolutely at the window, baffled
and worried.  He felt anchored to the spot, yet
knew in his heart that his brother's need was
great.  Every time he got to his feet and started
out of the room, something pulled him back.
Finally in despair, he settled down and stared with
unseeing eyes into the growing darkness of the
ruined gardens.

His heart beat heavily.  His mind and soul
called his brother, demanding an answer from the
silence and the night.  The officers and aides who
had been in the room left it, and Porky was alone.
Presently, as the waiting grew almost more than
the boy could endure, a slight sound caused him to
turn around.  It was the old scrubwoman, broom
in hand.

"Hullo!" said Porky, and turned back to the
window.  He was too badly worried to be polite.

"Hay-loo!" said the old cracked voice in broken
English.  Porky looked around again.  She was
standing at his side, smiling at him, a queer
grinning leer not at all pleasant.  Porky felt an insane
desire to ask her if that was the best she could do.
But he did not.  He simply stared at her, at the
wrinkled face and bright, twinkling, keen eyes.
Porky felt that those eyes were almost too keen,
almost too intelligent for that old peasant woman.

They looked steadily at each other, Porky
wondering more and more at the expression on the
old mask of a face.  She was little, bent and
feeble; she scarcely came to tall Porky's shoulder;
yet to the sensitive, worried boy as he gazed
at her there came a feeling of something wicked,
powerful, and threatening.  There seemed to the
alert senses of the boy that there was a knowing
twinkle in the old eyes when she looked
questioningly around the room, and said, "Your
brodder.  Ware iss he?"

"I don't know," said Porky slowly.  "You
didn't see him outside, did you?"

"No, I dit not see heem outsite; me, I have seen
nozzing outsite."

She smiled and wagged her old head, looked
piercingly at Porky again, and turned away.
Porky watched her squat old bent figure, then
drew his breath sharply as something caught his
eye!  It was something caught on one of the
ample folds of her ragged skirt, something that
glittered!  All the blood in Porky's body seemed to
make a mad rush to his head, then ebbed back to
his heart.  He started toward the old woman, then
stopped and thought, staring at the object on her
skirt.  He knew it well.  The old woman stooped
to pick up something and the object on her skirt
swung free and glittered in the uncertain light.
Porky drew a sharp breath as he recognized his
brother's message.  For a message he knew it to
be.  The little glittering object was a leather fob
strap.  At the end dangled a swimming medal that
Beany had won long ago.  He had always carried
it as a pocket piece, and in some way it had
accompanied him on the Great Adventure.  It had never
been out of Beany's pocket.

Yet there it was, hanging to a fold of the old
woman's tattered dress swinging and glittering!
Evidently she did not know that it was there.

Porky, suddenly alert, started to his feet and
took an impulsive step toward the old woman.
Then, before she had time to notice his action, he
stopped.  He could not remove the dangling medal
without letting her know that something was up,
and his only move was to watch her when she left
the room.  Somewhere, Beany was in trouble!
Porky realized that the message of the medal was
a desperate, last resort.  A million to one shot, he
told himself anxiously; but it had reached him, and
while he lived there was hope for Beany.  He
studied the old scrubwoman with a new
understanding.  She no longer appeared harmless,
stupid and ignorant.  The keen twinkle in her old
eyes; what had it meant?  The seemingly simple
and innocent question, "Your brodder.  Ware iss
he?" was just to sound him, the boy decided.  He
knew, all at once, that she knew all about Beany.
To follow her was to find his brother, alive, or
... Porky could not say the rest even to his own
soul.  He *would* follow her!  He would *find* the
brother whom he loved better than his own life!
His blood boiled when he thought of the condition
he might find that dear one in, and he set his jaw
in a way that promised desperate things.

Old Elise went pottering around the room,
unconscious of the glittering eyes bent steadfastly
on her, and ignorant of the glittering trifle
fastened to her dress.  Porky felt that he would gladly
barter years of his life to know how it came to be
there, but he clung to the happiest reason that he
could think up: Beany himself had in some way
fastened it on the old woman.  Porky decided to
obey the summons as he imagined them to have
been sent.  By hook or crook, he would follow the
old woman, sly and crafty as he now believed her
to be.  By hook or crook, he would find his brother.
Starting towards the old woman, he waited until
she stooped over the General's table, wiping off
the papers with a careful, shaking old hand.
Porky, suspicious of everything now, fancied that
she swiftly read the words on the uppermost
pages, but he was busy with deft fingers
unfastening the fob from the tattered skirt.  He slipped
it in his pocket, picked up a pencil and pad from
the table, and once more sat down by the window.
A few minutes later, while the old woman still
pottered around, Porky rose and idly left the room,
whistling as he did so.  He unconsciously
repeated Beany's performance in the dusky hall.
He went to the turn, and dropping on one knee,
bent a steady gaze on the door he had just closed.
He was rewarded in a moment by a sight of the
old woman.  She came out of the General's office,
softly closing the door behind her, and commenced
feeling over the secret panel.  It opened, and she
entered, closing it as she went, but not before
Porky was beside it, his eye on the spot he had
seen her old fingers press.  He waited for what
seemed to him an eternity, then pressed the carved
ornament of old oak.  It gave, and the opening
panel disclosed the passage in the wall down
which Beany had so recklessly followed his quarry.

Porky was cautious, yet determined.  Noiselessly
he trailed the old spy until they reached the
great chamber where the big bed was.  Not once
did she look behind.  It did not occur to her that
she could possibly be watched or followed.  She
had grown careless.  She did not even mind the
fact that she had left the heavy door swinging ajar
behind her.  Why, indeed, should she?  Was not
the door in the panel too cunningly contrived for
any one to find, except perhaps that Boy Scout
who now sat fettered in his chair waiting his end?
His brother ... bah!  She had left him above.
She crossed the room, and stooped to reach a shawl
she had thrown on the high bed.  As she bent,
something light and strong and cat-like leaped
upon her seizing her wrinkled throat in a vise-like
grip.  She could not scream.  In a second the
curtain of the bed was wrapped over her, fold on
fold.  She struggled furiously, but to no avail.  She was
nearly smothered.  Porky didn't much care.  He
worked in a frenzy of haste.  He pulled down the
thick cords that had been used to pull the bed
curtains open and shut, and tied his human bundle
securely.  Then with a cautious thought he shoved
her under the high bed, and made for the inner room.

It was silent.  A single candle burned on the
table.  Beany sat in his chair.  He was bound and
gagged.  As Porky sped across the room he saw
the diabolical contrivance hanging above the boy's
head.

A massive blade with a heavily weighted handle
hung directly over the boy, point down.  The cord
which held the weapon passed through a pulley
to another pulley, and from there to the table.
There it was fastened to a short stick that was
strapped to the alarm key of a common alarm
clock.  As Porky's quick glance took in the whole
scene, the little alarm clock gave the cluck that
precedes the striking of the alarm.  Porky made a
dash across the room, as the alarm commenced to
sound and, seizing his brother's chair, swung him
aside as the whirling alarm key tightened the cord.
One after another, with deadly swiftness, the cords
tightened until a quick pull on the smallest cord of
all, a mere thread, snapped it.

The heavy blade seemed for a moment to balance
in air, then it dropped down and buried its
razor point six inches deep in the old floor.

Not until then did Porky slash the cords which
bound his brother, and as Beany shook himself
free, with many faces to ease his tired jaw where
the gag had pressed it, Porky dropped limply into
a chair and mopped his brow.

"The sword of Damocles!" was all he said.

"Don't know the gent," said Beany huskily.
"Did some guy play this trick on him!  If he felt
as nervous as I did before you came, I feel good
and sorry for him.  Gosh, I have been sitting all
trussed up there for about a year!  Let's get out
of this!"

"No special hurry," said Porky wearily.  He
could not recover at once from the shock, but
Beany was chipper as a cricket.

"Well, I don't know," he said, "I have not
grown so fond of this little old dungeon that I want
to reside here long.  Besides, perhaps you don't
know the old lady who sweeps upstairs as well as
I do.  She is apt to be up to almost any trick."

"Not if the Court knows himself, and he thinks
he does," said Porky positively.  "I left her
under the bed in the other room with about a mile of
flossy curtain cord twined around her.  She is safe
enough.  We will go up and report this little
affair, and get a couple of men to come down and
take her to the General.  She is a hard character.
A spy, in fact."

"I guess I know that!" said Beany, rising and
rubbing his stiff legs and arms.  "I have a lot
more to report than you have.  Let's be off!"

Together they hurried into the first chamber,
and made for the door leading into the passage.
Porky, in passing, looked under the bed.  Then
with a gasp he looked again and, dropping on one
knee, seized a bundle of ragged clothing and a
tangle of crimson curtain cords.

He looked at them, turning them over and over.
Then he shook them.  Then he looked under the
great high bed again.

"What ails you?" demanded Beany impatiently.

"She's—she's gone!" said Porky feebly.

The old woman had vanished.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`DEATH CLOSE BEHIND`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER VI


.. class:: center medium bold

   DEATH CLOSE BEHIND

.. vspace:: 2

"Cut for the passage!" cried Porky as he
realized that his quarry had escaped and knew that her
release meant fresh dangers for them.  Instinctively
he held on to the bundle in his hands, and
with Beany at his heels raced through the door and
up the narrow passage that led to the secret door
in the panel.

They found it closed tight.  Furiously the boys
shook and tugged at the heavy handle which was
wont to turn and release the sliding panel.  It
did not budge.  They shook and banged.

"It's no good," said Porky finally, as they
paused, gasping and out of breath.  "We are
trapped!"

"Some one will hear us if we bang long enough,"
said Beany, kicking at the secret door.

"Not so you would know it," said his brother
bitterly.  "You can't hear a sound.  That
paneling is six inches thick along here.  Made so on
purpose, I suppose.  We had better go down and
try to get out by the passage that leads into the
garden."

They turned and hurried back, retracing their
steps through the passage and the two underground
rooms.  As Beany passed the great sword,
he dragged it from its upright position in the floor
and took it with him.

"I guess this belongs to me as much as to any
one," he said grimly.  "I'll take it home to Pop."

As he, spoke, the candles on the table shook in
a sudden draft and went out.

"That's about the last straw!" said Porky,
falling over a chair.

"Gimme your hand!" said Beany.  "I know
where the passage is and it is short, because I
counted the number of steps they took before I
heard the outside door open and smelled the
outside air.  I know it opens into the castle garden
because I heard them talking about going out that
way.  Oh, I have a long story to tell you, Porky,
but it will have to wait until we are well out of this.
I don't feel any too happy yet."

He clasped his brother's hand in his with a
sudden close pressure.  Porky returned it, and laid
an affectionate arm around his brother's shoulder
as together they went cautiously toward the
passage leading to the garden.

They found it easily; Beany had used his eyes
to good advantage.  Feeling carefully as they
went, they reached the end where a massive, rough
door barred their way.

Porky drew a box of safety matches from his
pocket, and by their feeble light they examined
the heavy barrier.  There was no sign of a latch or
keyhole, but the door was securely fastened on
the other side.

They were trapped!

"Well, what do you know about that!" muttered
Beany, scowling.  He felt slowly along the
crack of the closely set door and pressed the
barred surface, but it did not give under his
touch.

Porky flipped a match out of his fingers as it
burned him, and the boys stood motionless in the
darkness, wondering what to do next.  Beany
leaned on the hilt of the long sword; Porky traced
figure eights on the wall beside him with the tip or
the scorched finger that had held the match.

Beany leaned over and tapped his shoulder.

"What's the noise back there?" he whispered.

"Didn't hear anything," answered Porky after
a breathless pause of listening.

"I certainly heard something," declared Beany.
"Let's pussyfoot back and see if we can find out
what it was.  I *know* I heard something.  Perhaps
our dear friend the old dame is somewhere
around."

"There was nothing for her to hide in or behind,"
said Porky.  "The bed was the only piece
of furniture large enough and, besides, I feel sure
she skipped out the other passage.  What would
she come back for?  She must have known that we
were here."

"There is mighty little she *doesn't* know if any
one should ask you," answered Beany.  "Oh, just
wait until I have a chance to tell you the whole
yarn!  Only it is not finished yet.  There were a
couple of prisoners in the room I was in, a young
fellow in uniform and a girl.  They must have
carried them into the garden when they turned my
chair around so I could look toward the way you
came in.  I heard them scuffling about."

"Well, let's go take a look," said Porky.

They silently retraced their steps back to the
great chamber where the bed stood.  Carefully,
with their backs to the wall, they lighted a couple
of candles they had taken from the table.  The
room was empty, but with the keen trained
sensitiveness of young animals, they sensed danger.

"I bet it is the bed," said Porky as though
answering a question.  "Let's look it over."

Beany, holding the candles, stood by as Porky
carefully removed the tumbled and tattered
fragments which had once been satin and down
coverlets fit for queens to dream under.  He cautiously
lifted the top feather bed in his arms and laid it on
the floor.  Beany gave a gasp and, reaching
forward, almost flung himself on a black object which
rolled down into a depression in the under bed.
He fumbled with it, then stood erect, his face
glistening with a cold sweat.  He pointed to the object
in silence.

Porky stooped over it.  It was a time bomb,
large enough and vicious enough to wreck the
entire wing.

"That's funny," said Porky.  "You turned the
trick that time but it does seem they are taking a
lot of bother just to get rid of us."

"Why, you're crazy!" said Beany.  "What's
over this room?  The General's office, of course!
That was the trick.  They had us in here, and
after she got away, the old woman came back and
set that thing where she thought we would never
think to look for it.  I think she heard us in the
passage that goes to the garden, and thought we
would stay there fussing with that outside door.
If this thing went off, of course it would wreck this
room, and even if we were not killed by falling
stones, we would be trapped in there like a couple
of rats.  Well, it will never harm any one now, but
we have got to get out of here somehow or other."

Both boys were unnerved and shaken They
stood looking at each other.  They knew that it
must be very late, but overhead they could hear
the muffled tramp of booted feet in the General's
office.  They stood gazing at the oak paneled
ceiling.  A big square directly over the high bed was
sagging, and it was there that they could hear the
sounds from above.  Porky commenced to study
the situation.

The bed was a four poster, hundreds of years
old.  When the castle had been shelled, it had been
brought down from some upper room of state.

The high, massive posts, beautifully carved,
supported a great roof of heavily carved black oak.

"Look here," said Porky.  "Can't we shin up
on top and beat on the floor with the hilt of that
sword?"

"What good would that do?" demanded
Beany.  "They wouldn't know where to find us.
I don't believe we could make enough racket
anyhow so they would pay any attention to it."

Porky thought a moment, then to Beany's
disgust he commenced to caper around in a manner
that Beany thought little befitted their serious
position.  He knew that when the explosion failed
to occur, some one would be sent back by the
master spy, and Beany could not doubt that that would
mean a quick death for them both.

"What ails you?" he demanded.

"Just this," said Porky.  "We will rap out a
call for help in the code—the Morse code.  Half
the fellows in that office understand it.  If there
is any one there at all, they will catch on."

"Honest, Porky—" said Beany, then he
stopped.  He certainly was proud of Porky but
decided not to tell him so.

Porky chuckled.  He knew what his brother was
thinking.  "Some little nut, eh?" he asked,
patting his own head.

"Tell better after you have tried it," growled
Beany, shinning up the post nearest him.  Porky
started after him.

"Wait!" said Beany.  "We will have to have a
chair.  You can't reach high enough."

It was difficult to get one of the massive carved
chairs aloft.  They had to tear the bedding into
ropes and pull it up in that way; but once on
the top, Porky shinned hastily up and mounted
it.  He was rather quicker at telegraphy than Beany.

He wrapped his handkerchief around the blade
of the long sword, so he could grasp it, and beat
heavily on the paneled ceiling.  Then he shook his
head.

"Listen to that!" he complained.  "That loose
panel will have to come down.  You couldn't hear
that little clack a foot away.  Steady me."

He handed the sword to Beany and, springing
up, clutched the loose sagging edge of woodwork
in his lean, muscular hands.  It sprung up and
down under his weight, but did not give.

"Grab my feet and pull!" he ordered over his
shoulder.

Beany obeyed.

There was a sharp tussle but the old, centuries
old wood was not proof against the fresh young
strength measured against it.  It suddenly gave
way and a couple of yards fell with a clatter and
cloud of dust, hurling the boys flat on the top of
the bed canopy, which swayed in an alarming manner.

They shoved the paneling over the edge, and
stood up.  Once more their candles were out, but
Porky lit a match and soon the little flame made a
light about them.  Beany kicked something with
his toe.

"What's that?" he said.

"Don't know," said Porky, rubbing his hands
together.  "There's a couple more of them.

"Don't bother with that junk!  Bundles of rags,
I suppose.  We have got to get out of here.  You
don't know what those spies will be up to next."

But Beany, always curious, ripped a hole in the
side of the rough, pouch in his hand.

"It's full of gold money," he said.

"My word!" said Porky, looking down from
the chair.  "Scoop 'em all into your pockets, for
the love of Mike!"

"Pockets!" said Beany scornfully.  "There's
a couple of *quarts* of stuff in these three bags!"

He slipped out of his blouse and, tying the
sleeves together, made a sort of bag in which he
carefully placed the sacks.  Then he stepped
carefully across their swaying platform and steadied
the chair on which his brother stood with the
sword hilt thrust between the huge rafters against
the floor above.

The tramping in the room overhead sounded
quite clear now that the paneling was gone.  It
annoyed Porky, who was trying the best he knew to
make his pounding heard.

"Why don't the geezers sit down?" he complained.
And as though in answer, there was a
sudden silence above.

"It won't be so funny if they have all gone
away," said Beany, listening intently.

"You bet it won't!" said Porky, beating still
harder.

"They are all there," said Beany.  "If they
had gone out, we would have heard the steps all
turning in the direction of the door, which is over
there behind you."

"Well, here goes!" said Porky, pausing a moment
to rest.  "I am going to give the wireless
call for help."

Then while both boys almost stopped breathing,
Porky slowly and distinctly tapped out the thrilling
summons that turns great ships out of their
courses to race across leagues of angry sea to help
the perishing.

"S.O.S!  S.O.S!"  Over and over, carefully,
slowly Porky rapped, pausing now and then to
listen.

"No go!" said Beany despondently.

"Wait," whispered Porky; "they are stirring
up there."

Once more he rapped out his message, and gave
a groan of relief as faintly but distinctly a spurred
heel on the floor above beat the answer:

"We hear.  Where are you?  Who speaks?"

As rapidly as he dared Porky, who was an expert
in the code, explained their position, gave the
necessary directions for opening the secret door
in the panel, received an "All right!" from above,
and the boys, leaving the chair standing in its
lofty position, slid down the bed post, Beany still
clinging stubbornly to the sword.

As they stood for a moment beside the great
bed, a gust of fresh air entered the room.

"The garden door!" Beany hissed in his brother's
ear.  "They are coming!  Run for it!"

The boys turned and raced for the passage
leading to the upper hall.  As they ran Porky
stumbled against a chair.  It went over with a crash.
They turned as they hurried through the door
leading into the passage.

Behind them, just perceptible to their eyes now
accustomed to the darkness, three forms came
running in relentless pursuit.  One form reached
them just as they turned into the passage.  Beany
paused in his flight and blindly hurled the heavy
sword full at his pursuer, then slammed the door
and followed Porky, now several yards ahead of
him.  Death was close behind.





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.. _`THE IRON BOX`:

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   CHAPTER VII


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE IRON BOX

.. vspace:: 2

There was no need for silence now.  The boys
heard a stumble as though someone had crashed
over some obstruction.  The door behind them
was flung open.  Swift feet pursued them.

"Hope the door's open!" gasped Porky, as he
ran fleetly on up the uneven, winding passage.

In the office above there had been an anxious
period.  Two members of a staff, even though
they are only boys, cannot disappear as though
the earth had swallowed them without a
suspicion of foul play.  When General Pershing
received the report, he at once sent couriers and
scouts to every station where the boys might
have gone.  On being questioned, the sentries
one and all declared that the two boys had not
been seen outside of the building.  This resulted
in a combing out of every cranny that could
possibly hold a boy alive or dead.

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

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

"What's that?" said one of them suddenly,
listening intently.

The General stopped writing and looked at the
speaker.

"What's what?" questioned a captain, frowning.

"That tapping," said the first speaker.
"Sounds like *code*."

"You have been asleep," said the captain, grinning.

"I hear it," said the General.

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

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

"Send an answer, Lieutenant Reed!" ordered
the General.

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

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

"How?" asked the General

"There's a secret door in the oak panel in the
hall.  They gave directions for opening it."

"Go at once, six of you—you six nearest the
door!"  The officers designated rose.

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

There was no sound.

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

"Men?" asked an officer in an excited whisper.

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

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

"Let's go down," said one of the men, loosening
his revolver.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Was she wounded?" asked the General.

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

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

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

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

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

"Look!" he whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Once more the boys had unearthed a mystery.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE CELLAR'S SECRET`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER VIII


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE CELLAR'S SECRET

.. vspace:: 2

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

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

"Morning, Lieutenant," said Porky, rubbing
his eyes.

"What's the time, sir?" said Beany, looking
curiously at his wrist watch.

"Yours stopped too?" asked Porky.  "Mine
has.  Funny!"

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

"Yesterday morning!" gasped Porky.  "Why
didn't some one call us?"

"General's orders," said the Lieutenant.  He
laughed, "Gee, I wish he would order me to bed
for a week.  You can bet I would go!"

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

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

"You liked to be in the trenches, didn't you?"
asked Porky, stooping to lace his puttees.

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

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

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

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

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

"So'm I," said his brother, likewise stamping.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Better, much better than I ever hoped," he
crowed.

"Hand it out!" demanded Beany anxiously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Want to bet something!" asked Porky, poking
his brother with a backhand jab in the ribs.

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

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

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

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

"Why didn't he sign it?" demanded the practical Porky.

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

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

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

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

"Look at the size of it, too," said Beany.

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

"Aw, gee, there's a kitten shut up some place,"
said Beany, jumping up.  "Let's find it."

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

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

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

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

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

"That's no kitten!" gasped Beany.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The weary eyes opened, and rested on his face.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`A VEXING PROBLEM`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER IX


.. class:: center medium bold

   A VEXING PROBLEM

.. vspace:: 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The French officer bowed his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I wasn't looking," said Beany.  "Oh, gosh,
they didn't have to do things like this."

"Who, the Huns?" asked his brother.  "Why,
it's all like this and a million times worse!"

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

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

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

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

"Yes, she is thorough, all right!" grinned
Mom's son.  "Look at us!"

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

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

"Well, all *he* ever wants is what Mom wants,"
said Beany.

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

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

"One apiece," he said, looking at Beany.

"One's a girl, though," said Beany.

Porky wanted to be fair.

"That's so," he said.  "Well, we can draw
straws to see which has to take her."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well, Mom likes boys all right," was Porky's reminder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You watch me!" said Porky grimly.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`DECIDING DESTINIES`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER X


.. class:: center medium bold

   DECIDING DESTINIES

.. vspace:: 2

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

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

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

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

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

"Your what?" asked the captain after a
prolonged stare.

"Our mother," repeated Porky.

"Your mother has *WHAT*?" said the captain.
"Just repeat it all."

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

"Where is your mother?" he asked.

"Home," said Porky.

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

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

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

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

"The girl will like that," said the officer dryly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent

"*My own dear boys*:

.. vspace:: 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

.. vspace:: 1

.. class:: noindent whitespace-pre-line

   "Your always loving
      "MOTHER."

.. vspace:: 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Besides," said Porky, "what about mother!
It's up to us to bring her what she likes best, and
you read that letter.  What she wants is *orphans*,
and she's *got* to *have* 'em if we *steal* 'em!  So long
as we are around, mother has got to have what she
wants."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wonder what their names are," said Porky.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We will get 'em back, won't we, sir?" he asked.
"They can't work some game on us, so we will
lose 'em?"

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

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

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

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

"Beel ant Pekky!" groaned the Frenchman.

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

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





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`WHISPERS IN THE NIGHT`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XI


.. class:: center medium bold

   WHISPERS IN THE NIGHT

.. vspace:: 2

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

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

"And we can't help!" said Porky mournfully.
"Not a thing we can do, not a thing!"

"Oh, well, we are doing all we can," said Beany.
"I don't just see what *more* we can do.  We can't
help our age."

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

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

"Good-night, boys," he said.

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

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

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

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

"The whole night to ourselves, and no bounds,
and only we mustn't get lost!" chuckled Porky.

"Peach pie!" murmured Beany.  "Let's be
off!  Where will we go first?"

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

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

"Who wants to get into any scrape?" said
Porky.  "All I want to do is to see—to see—well,
to see just what I *can* do."

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

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

"I don't need anything," said Beany, "I've got
the neatest thing you ever *did* see."  Quite
suddenly he drew something from his hip pocket and
shoved it under his brother's nose.  Porky
side-stepped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why, they *can't* be, Bean," said Porky.  "We
are away inside our lines, and we wouldn't have
men out there and, besides, they wouldn't be
whispering German or anything else.  When our men
are supposed to keep still, they *keep still*!"

"I can't help it," said Beany.  "They are whispering
in German."

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

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

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

"Then they are underground," whispered
Porky in his turn.

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

"I don't see how you heard 'em," breathed
Porky.  "It's hard enough to believe now.  What
do you suppose it all means!"

"Search me!" Beany breathed in return.

"What they doing over on our side?" wondered
Porky.

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

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

"Gee, it's hot!"

"*Gee, it's hot!*" said the German voice and the
simple words seemed to the astounded boys to
ring across the valley!  On the contrary, they
were spoken in a low whisper.

Another voice replied.  "He won't like it if you
speak English, you know."

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

"Bosh!" said the man called Peter.  "You
think because a handful of Americans are here
that the tide has turned.  Be careful what you
think.  I tell you *no*.  What can a few hundred
of these fellows do against the perfect, trained
millions of the Fatherland?"

"You don't know them," said Fritz.

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

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

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

"Then here's hoping for a quick release from
this hole," said Fritz bitterly.

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

"Oh, I hope for some release.  It's the hardest
duty I have ever been given."

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

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

The boys with the greatest caution wriggled away.

"Now what do you think of *that*?" said Porky
when they were in a position where they could talk
in safety.  "*What do you think of that?*"

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

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

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

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

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

"Wonder why that is," Porky said.

"Something to do with our little mud house,
don't you think so?" said Beany.

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

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

"Sit still," said Porky.  "I want to think."

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

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

"Three of them?" gasped Beany.

"Three of them!" said Porky.  "Come on!"





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`TAKING THREE PRISONERS`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XII


.. class:: center medium bold

   TAKING THREE PRISONERS

.. vspace:: 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sergeant, something's wrong with my flash.
Send up another!"

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

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

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

"I surrender," said the man Fritz.  "Please
don't tie me up, sir!"

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

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

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

"Yes, sir," said Fritz.

Porky waited a little.  The worst was coming now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Close the door!" demanded Porky.

Beany did so.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A look of fury and amazement crossed his face.

"Kinder, kleine kinder!" he muttered scornfully.

The other man was silent.

General Pershing gave a sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You!" he said.  "A German prisoner, you—"

The man's face lighted.

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

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

The General glanced at his wrist watch.

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

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

"He knew you," said a Captain.

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

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

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

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





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE PRISONER'S STORY`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XIII


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE PRISONER'S STORY

.. vspace:: 2

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

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

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

"Naw, that ain't me wrench," he declared.
"Same size and shape but it ain't me wrench!"

"Why not?" asked Porky.  "One of us took
your wrench last night, and if this is the same size
and shape, why isn't it the same wrench?"

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

Beany sadly allowed himself to wake up.

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

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

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

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

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

"Good!" said Beany affably.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then General Pershing looked up.

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

Porky and Beany nudged each other slyly.

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

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

It held the boys breathless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What did you think, Fritz?" asked the General.

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

"How is the army faring as regards food!"
asked the General.

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

"What were you doing ont there in that hillock?"
asked the General.

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

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

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

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

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

"It is *all* true," said Fritz.  "General, won't
you let me earn my life, set me free for two
hours—only that?  And I will prove it to you."

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

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

"What do you propose?" asked the General.

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

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

The General began to smoke.

"What do you think, boys?  Will he come back?"

"Yes, sir," said both boys together.

"Why?" asked the General.

"Why, he was telling the truth!" said Porky,

"They don't look like that other times," said
Beany.  "He was straight, all right."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Looks so," said Beany, "but you never can tell."

*And they couldn't*.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`ORDERS ARE ORDERS`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XIV


.. class:: center medium bold

   ORDERS ARE ORDERS

.. vspace:: 2

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

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

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

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

"I'd have bet on that duck, if I was a betting
man," said Porky sadly.  "I bet he *meant* to
come."

"Hark!" said Beany, listening.

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

"They are coming!" gasped Beany.

They were.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shook hands heartily and patted each on the
shoulder.

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

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

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

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

"We have to get Bill and Peggy," said Beany.

"Yep!" said Porky briefly.

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

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

"Wish we were home *now*!" he said huskily.

"Gosh!" said Porky.

.. vspace:: 4

.. class:: center

   FINIS

.. vspace:: 6

.. pgfooter::