Army Boys in the French Trenches

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"They mostly brought themselves back, sir," replied Wilson with a smile.
"It's a pleasure to command such a nervy crowd as that. You don't need
to use the spur. I'm mostly busy putting on the brakes. It would have
done your heart good if you could have seen the way they waded into the
Huns. That fellow Sheldon particularly is a crackerjack when it comes to
a scrap. He's as strong as an ox and as quick as a cat."

"I've had my eye on him," replied the officer. "He'll go far before the
war is over. You can go now, Corporal. I'll have your work mentioned in
the order of the day."

He was as good as his word, for when the regiment was drawn up for
inspection the order of the day commended each man of the squad by name
for their gallant exploit that, as the order ran, "reflected credit on
the regiment."

"How's your head feeling now, old man?" Frank asked of Tom, as they
rejoined each other at mess.

"Pretty groggy," responded Tom. "But I'm not kicking. I'm lucky to be
alive at all. That fellow made an awful swipe at me, and if it had hit
me fair it would have been all over."

"A miss is as good as a mile," put in Bart. "I had a pretty close shave
myself. Seemed as though twenty star shells were going off at once."

"Yesterday was your lucky day," remarked Billy. "You had two narrow
escapes."

"Let's hope it won't be three times and out," responded Bart lightly."
By the way, I wonder what they did with that corporal who tried to do me
up?"

"Most likely he's shot by this time," observed Tom. "If he isn't, he
ought to be."

"He isn't shot yet at any rate," remarked Fred Andon, who sat near by.
"I guess the fighting was so hot all day yesterday that they didn't have
time to attend to him. Likely enough he's down in the prisoners' pen
waiting for the court-martial."

"Let's go down and see after we've finished our chow," suggested Billy.
"That is if you fellows ever get through eating. Look at Tom stowing it
away. He'd eat his way through the whole quartermaster's department if
he was let."

"And he's the fellow that they wouldn't let enlist because of his
teeth," gibed Bart. "They didn't know Tom."

"I'm not the only one that got a raw deal," replied Tom, with whom it
was always a sore point that he had been refused when he wanted to
enlist, but had been accepted in the draft. "There's a drafted man here
who was telling me the other day that he walked ninety miles to enlist.
And do you know what the enlistment board did to him?"

"What?" was the query.

"Turned him down because he had flat feet," responded Tom. "Told him he
wouldn't be able to stand a five-mile hike."

There was a roar of laughter.

"I heard another good one," chimed in Billy. "A fellow wanted to enlist,
and the examining board wanted to reject him because he had a cast in
his eye. 'Oh, that's all right,' he drawled, 'I allus shets that eye
anyway when I shoot.' That made them laugh and he got by."

In high spirits they finished their meal, and as they were off duty for
the next hour or two, made their way down to that quarter of the field
where the prisoners' camp was placed.

Behind the barrier at the point nearest them they saw one bulky captive,
who was munching contentedly the food that had been given him, and who
had none of the woe-begone expression that a man in his position is
commonly expected to show.

"See him shovel it in," laughed Billy.

"He doesn't seem to have a care in the world," remarked Bart.

"Probably glad to be behind our machine guns instead of in front of
them," conjectured Tom.

"Hello, Heinie!" said Frank good-naturedly.

"Hello yourself," came the answer.

"Do you speak English?" asked Frank in surprise.

"A little," replied the German, and proceeded to prove it by answering,
although in rather a halting manner, the questions they put to him.

No, he at any rate had not wanted the war. He was a skilled mechanic in
one of the munition factories. There had been a strike on account of bad
conditions and he had been one of the leaders. The Government had seized
him and bundled him off to the front. He was glad to be captured. After
the war the Kaiser would see that men were born to be something else
than cannon fodder.

"Well," remarked Frank as they moved along, "there's one fellow at least
that doesn't cry: '_Hoch the Kaiser_.'"

"Seems good to see it so full," remarked Bart with great satisfaction,
as he saw the large number of Germans who had been captured in the
fierce fighting of the day before.

"If only the Kaiser and the Crown Prince were in that bunch," sighed
Tom.

"That's a pleasure still to come," replied Frank. "But where's the
fellow that tried to stab Bart? I don't see him anywhere. Seems as
though the party isn't complete without him."

They made inquiry of one of the guards.

"Oh, that one," replied the guard. "They've roped him out from the rest
of these mavericks and given him a hut all by himself. I guess he's
thinking of making his will. I hear they're going to have him out before
a drumhead in the morning."

"Which hut is it?" asked Frank, as his eye took in a little group of
shacks at the further end of the field.

"That end one down by the big tree." The guard pointed it out with the
point of his bayonet.

They went down in that direction, and as they neared the hut saw that it
was guarded by a single sentry.

"Who's that fellow on guard?" asked Tom. "My head's so dizzy yet that
I'm seeing things double."

"Looks rather familiar for a fact," said Bart. "Wait till he turns his
head this way."

The next instant the sentry turned, and there was a whistle of surprise
from Billy. "By the great horn spoon!" he ejaculated. "It's Nick Rabig!"

"Set a Hun to watch a Hun," remarked Tom bitingly.

"Oh, come, Tom," remonstrated Frank, "that's going a little too far.
I've no reason to like the fellow, and we know he had to be dragged into
the army, but that doesn't say he's a Hun."

"All except the uniform," persisted Tom. "He'd rather be fighting for
the Kaiser this minute than for Uncle Sam."

"Shouldn't wonder if Tom's more than half right," assented Billy. "You
know the way he" used to talk in Camport."

"You notice that we've never seen him volunteering for any of the
raiding parties," said Billy.

"But that may only mean that Rabig has a yellow streak in him. It
doesn't say that he's a traitor," returned Frank.

"Well, maybe he isn't," conceded Tom. "But all the same it seems rather
queer that he should have been picked out to guard this Heinie. They
could talk together in German through that closed door and nobody be
wise to what they were saying."

"I don't suppose the officers know Rabig as well as the rest of us do,"
said Billy. "But say, fellows, look at that bit of white under the door
of the hut. What do you suppose it is?"

"Oh, just a scrap of paper," laughed Bart. "Just like the Belgian
treaty."

"Something the wind's blown up against the door, I guess," conjectured
Tom.

"Wind nothing!" exclaimed Frank, whose vision was keener than that of
any of the others. "It's under the door and it's getting bigger and
bigger all the time. I tell you what it is, fellows," he went on
excitedly, "it's a note that's being pushed out by the fellow inside."

"Let's get behind these trees and see what's going on," suggested Bart,
indicating a clump of trees near which they happened to be standing.

In a moment they were screened from observation. Then they watched with
the keenest interest what would follow.

That Rabig had caught sight of the paper was evident, for he stopped his
pacing and turned his eyes on the door. Then he looked stealthily about
him. The nearest sentry was some distance away, and the boys were well
hidden by the trees.

Then Rabig made a complete circuit of the little hut, as though to make
sure that no one was lurking about. Having apparently satisfied himself
on that point, he returned and resumed his pacing until he was directly
in front of the door.

Here he paused and drew out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead. But
as he went to put it back, it dropped from his hand so that it lay close
by and almost upon the protruding piece of paper.

He was stooping to pick it up, when he caught sight of a sergeant coming
in his direction. Instantly he straightened up, and as he did so the
butt of his rifle knocked against the door.

The paper disappeared as though it had been drawn swiftly back from the
inside, just as the sergeant came up.

"Gee!" gasped Tom.

"Prisoner all right, Rabig?" inquired the sergeant.

"Yes, sir," replied Rabig. "He seems to be keeping pretty quiet. I
looked in a little while ago and he was lying asleep on the bench."

"Keep a close watch on him," counseled the sergeant. "What he tried to
do to Raymond yesterday shows that he's a desperate character. But I
guess that by this time to-morrow he won't need any one to watch him."

The sergeant passed on and the boys looked at each other with
speculation in their eyes.

"What do you think of it?" asked Frank thoughtfully.

"Think?" snorted Tom. "I think that Rabig is a bad egg. What else is
there for any one to think?"

"It certainly looks suspicious," said Bart with a little wrinkle of
anxiety creasing his brow.

"One thing is sure," declared Billy. "It was a note that was being
pushed outside that door. The fellow inside was trying to get into
communication with Rabig."

"True," assented Frank. "But that in itself doesn't prove anything. You
or I might be on sentry duty and a prisoner might try to do the same
thing to us."

"Yes," agreed Billy. "But we wouldn't act the way Rabig did. We'd have
picked up the note and given it to the sergeant of the guard."

"And we wouldn't have sneaked around the hut to see if any one was near
by," said Tom. "Why did he drop his handkerchief, except to have an
excuse for picking it up and copping the note at the same time?"

"And his rifle butt didn't hit the door by accident," put in Billy.
"That was a tip to the prisoner that some one was coming. Did you see
how quickly the note disappeared?"

"I hate to think that there's a single man in the regiment who's a
disgrace to his uniform," remarked Frank, "but it certainly looks bad.
That fellow Rabig will bear watching."

"I told you he was a Hun," declared Tom. "His body's in France, but his
heart's in Germany."

CHAPTER VIII

COLONEL PAVET REAPPEARS

The Army boys thought over the situation in some perplexity.

"What do you suppose we ought to do?" asked Bart.

"We ought to go hotfoot to the captain and tell him what we've seen,"
declared Tom with emphasis.

"I hardly like to do that," objected Billy. "At least not at this stage
of the game. After all, we haven't any positive proof against Nick. His
handkerchief might have dropped accidentally. And the knocking of the
butt of his gun against the door could have happened without his meaning
anything by it. He could explain his going around the hut by saying he
wanted to be especially vigilant in guarding the prisoner."

"Yes," agreed Frank, "we haven't proof enough against Rabig to hang a
yellow dog. And I wouldn't want to get him in bad with his officers on
mere suspicion."

"That note might be proof if we could only get hold of it," suggested
Tom.

"Swell chance!" returned Bart. "You can bet that note is chewed up and
swallowed by this time. The first thing the Hun thought of, when he was
tipped off that some one was coming, was to get rid of the evidence that
might queer his chance of escape."

"I'll tell you what we'll do," said Frank. "We'll just go down and see
Rabig and ask him casually about the prisoner. That may make him think
that we're on to something, and if he's planning to do anything crooked
it may scare him off. It won't do any harm anyway, and we'll take a
chance."

They left the clump of trees and strolled down carelessly in the
direction of the hut.

Rabig saw them coming, and the surly look that was habitual with him
became more pronounced than usual. There was no love lost between him
and any of them. He had been thoroughly unpopular in Camport because of
his bullying nature even before the outbreak of the war, and his evident
leaning toward Germany had deepened this feeling.

Since he had been drafted, he had of course kept his pro-German views to
himself, for he valued his skin and had no desire to face a firing
squad. But his work had been done grudgingly, and his disposition to
shirk had more than once gained him short terms in the guardhouse.

Of all the group approaching him he most heartily disliked Frank. In the
first place, Frank had never permitted him to bully him when they were
with Moore & Thomas, and the two had been more than once on the brink of
a fight. And since the boxing bout in the camp, when he had tried foul
tactics and Frank had thrashed him thoroughly, his venom toward his
conqueror had been more bitter than ever.

The boys stopped when they reached the front of the hut.

"Hello, Rabig!" they greeted him.

"Hello!" responded Rabig, still keeping up his pacing.

"Right on the job, I see," remarked Bart, pleasantly enough.

"Your eyesight's mighty good," replied Nick sullenly.

"Yes," Bart came back at him, "I can see a bit of white paper from quite
a distance."

Rabig gave a sudden start.

"What do you mean by that?" he demanded.

"Nothing special," replied Bart carelessly. "What should I mean?"

"By the way," put in Tom, "you'd better tuck your handkerchief in a
little more tightly or you'll lose it. It looks as though it were almost
ready to drop out."

"What if it does?" snarled Rabig. "I could pick it up again, couldn't
I?"

"Of course you could," said Tom, "but you might pick up something else
with it. Dust, or a bit of paper, or something like that."

"Say, what's the matter with you guys anyway?" demanded Rabig, glowering
at them.

"That looks like quite a solid door," remarked Frank, inspecting it
critically.

"Oh, I don't know," responded Billy. "It's got dents in it. Here's one
that looks as though it were made by a rifle butt."

Rabig looked at them angrily, and yet furtively, evidently seeking to
find out how much their remarks meant.

"You fellows had better get along," he snapped. "You're interfering with
discipline by talking to a sentry on guard."

Rabig's newborn reverence for discipline amused the boys so that they
had hard work to repress a laugh.

"You're right," responded Frank. "We'll mosey along."

"Ta-ta, Rabig," said Bart. "Keep your eye peeled for any Hun trick. That
fellow nearly got me yesterday with his knife, and he might try to play
the same game on you."

"Don't you worry," growled Rabig. "I can take care of myself."

The chums passed on, laughing and talking about indifferent things,
until they were out of ear shot.

"We've got him guessing," remarked Billy with a grin.

"We managed to put a flea in his ear," agreed Tom.

"Did you see how red he got?" questioned Bart.

"He sure is wondering how much we know," summed up Frank. "Whether it
will make him go straight or not is another question. What we fellows
ought to do is to take turns keeping tab on him, so that he can't act
crooked even if he wants to." "It's a pity there should be any men in
the American army whom we have to watch," said Tom bitterly.

"Yes, but that's to be expected," returned Frank. "There's never been an
army in the history of the world that hasn't been infected with traitors
more or less."

"Look at Benedict Arnold," remarked Billy.

"To my mind, it's surprising that there aren't more," said Frank.
"That's what the Kaiser was counting on. He thought that the German
element in America was so strong that we wouldn't dare to go to war with
him. Do you remember what he told Gerard? That 'there were five hundred
thousand Germans in America who would revolt'?"

"Yes," grinned Billy, "and I remember how Gerard came back at him with
the 'five hundred thousand lamp-posts on which we'd hang them if they
did.'"

They were out on the main road by this time, and they stepped to one
side and saluted, as an officer in French uniform, accompanied by an
orderly, came galloping along.

The officer's eye swept the group as he returned the salute, and when it
rested on Frank he drew up his horse so suddenly that the beast sat back
on its haunches.

The officer threw himself from the horse's back, cast the reins to his
orderly, and came impetuously toward the astonished Army boys with his
hand extended to Frank.

"Monsieur Sheldon!" he exclaimed, his face beaming. "_Mon brave
Americain. Le sauveur de ma vie._"

"Colonel Pavet!" cried Frank with equal pleasure, as he took the
extended hand.

"Yes," replied the newcomer, "Colonel Pavet, alive and well, thanks to
you. Ah, I shall never forget the night when I lay wounded on the
battlefield and you climbed out of the trench and made your way through
a storm of bullets and shells to my side and carried me back to safety.
It was the deed of a hero, a modern d'Artagnan! How glad I am to see you
again!"

"And I to see you" responded Frank warmly. "You were so dreadfully
wounded that I feared you might not recover."

They were talking in French, which Frank spoke like a native, thanks to
his French mother, and the other boys saluted and passed on, leaving the
two together.

"If we had not met, I would have searched you out," went on the colonel,
"for I have some news for you. News that both you and your mother will
be glad to hear."

"My mother," repeated Frank, his eyes kindling and his heart responding,
as it never failed to do at the mention of that dear mother of his, who
in her lonely home across the sea was waiting and praying for him.

CHAPTER IX

THE ESCAPE

"Yes," replied Colonel Pavet, "your mother, Madame Sheldon,--it seems
strange for me to name her thus, for I never think of her except as
Lucie De Latour, as I knew her in her girlhood--has a very excellent
prospect of coming into the property that was willed to her."

"I'm very glad to hear that!" exclaimed Frank. "And I know that my
mother will be pleased too. I have told her in my letters about my
meeting with you, and I gave her the remembrances that you were kind
enough to send her. She was delighted to know that I had met one of her
old neighbors in Auvergne, and she asked me to thank you most heartily
for your kindness in promising to look after her interests."

The colonel smiled genially.

"She is too good," he responded. "The obligation is all on my side. My
humble services would have been at her disposal in any event simply for
the sake of old friendship. But how much more ought they to be wholly
hers, now that her son has saved my life."

"I am afraid you put too much value on what I did, Colonel," said Frank
deprecatingly.

"It was something that not one in ten thousand would have done," replied
the colonel warmly. "When I found myself helpless and wounded on that
field of death I thought my life was over, and I had commended my soul
to God."

"I'm glad that you have lived to strike another blow for France," said
Frank.

"Ah, for France!" repeated the colonel fervently, as he lifted his cap
reverently.

"As I started to say," he resumed after a moment, "your mother's
prospects for coming into her own are excellent. After my wound I was
sent home, and for some time it was doubtful whether I would live or
die. But God was good and I recovered. While I was gradually mending I
had ample time to look into that matter of the contested will. And,
fortunately, just at that time my brother Andre, who is one of the
leading lawyers of Paris, came to the chateau to see and cheer me up
while I was convalescing. I laid the whole matter before him, and he
went into it thoroughly. He has gone over all the proceedings in the
case, and he tells me that there is no doubt that your mother has the
law as well as right--unfortunately they are not always the same thing--
on her side. He says that the testimony of those who are contesting the
will smacks strongly of perjury. It is too bad that your mother cannot
be here, for then Andre thinks the whole thing could be straightened out
at once."

"It is too bad," agreed Frank; "but in the present state of things, and
the danger on the Atlantic from submarines, I would not want her to take
the risk. But what you say delights me, as I am sure it will her, and I
can't thank you enough for all the trouble you have taken."

"Not trouble, but pleasure," corrected the colonel. "And you can be
assured that the matter will not be allowed to lag now that Andre has
taken it up. When he starts a case he can be depended on to carry it
through to a finish. I will keep in close touch with him and will let
you know from time to time how the matter is progressing. But now tell
me about yourself."

"There's not much to tell," replied Frank. "I'm well and have been lucky
enough so far not to have stopped a bullet."

The colonel's eyes twinkled.

"Not much to tell," he repeated. "No, not if Monsieur Sheldon does the
telling. But there are others who speak more freely. Your captain, for
instance."

Frank flushed uncomfortably and Colonel Pavet laughed outright.

"Bravery and modesty usually go together," he went on. "How about that
machine gun episode yesterday, when an American soldier cut down its
crew, turned it on the enemy trench and compelled the men in it to
surrender? How about the raiding party where five men accounted for
fourteen of the Huns? You see, _mon ami_, that I have a good memory for
details. Ah, you are blushing. I wonder if you, too, could recall these
things if you tried."

"There were a lot of us in on them," parried Frank, "and one did as much
as another."

"Well," rejoined the colonel, "I'm proud that a French woman is your
mother. You have a glorious heritage in the traditions of two gallant
countries. And I rejoice to see the way you Americans are throwing
yourselves into the fighting. We were sorely pressed by the Hun hordes
and were fighting with our backs against the wall."

"And such fighting!" returned Frank enthusiastically. "The world has
never seen anything finer. The spirit of France is unconquerable."

"Yes," replied the colonel proudly. "As one of our great orators has
said: 'If the men are all killed the women will rise up; if the women
are killed the children will rise; if the children are killed the very
dead will rise and fight--fight for France."

"But I must go on," he continued, motioning to his orderly to bring up
his horse. "I have a long journey yet before I reach the headquarters of
my division. I am more delighted than I can tell that I met you as I
did. May we meet again soon."

"In Berlin, if not sooner," interjected Frank with a smile.

"Ah, that is it," said the colonel delightedly. "In Berlin! That is the
way to speak. It may be a long time, but sooner or later the Stars and
Stripes and the Tricolor will wave together _Unter den Linden_. May
Heaven speed the day!"

The French officer wrung Frank's hand warmly, sprang into the saddle,
and with Frank's "_bon voyage_" ringing in his ears, galloped rapidly
away.

Twilight was coming on as Frank set out to rejoin his comrades, who were
waiting for him at a little distance down the road. His heart was light,
for he had news to write his mother that he knew would bring her
pleasure.

"Some swell," chaffed Tom, as Frank came up to his friends. "Talking to
a colonel as though he were a pal. I wonder that you condescend to talk
to us common privates."

"It is a comedown," grinned Frank; "but I'll try to tolerate you for a
while longer. But say, fellows, that colonel is a brick! Not a bit of
side about him. And he's doing a lot for us in the matter of my mother's
property that I've told you about."

"That's bully!" exclaimed Bart heartily.

"I'll forgive him," conceded Tom magnanimously, "even if he does talk in
a lingo that I can't understand."

"Why, I thought you were a finished French scholar by this time,"
chaffed Bart.

"Do you remember the day Tom tried to ask for soup and got his tongue
twisted around 'bouillon'?" gibed Billy, with a broad grin.

"Well, I got the soup anyway, didn't I?" defended Tom.

"Sure you got it," agreed Billy. "I could hear you getting it."

Tom made a pass at him that Billy ducked.

"Talking about soup makes me hungry," remarked Bart. "If you fellows
stand talking here much longer we'll be late at chow."

"I'd like to have one more look at that hut Rabig's guarding," said
Frank a little uneasily.

"We might stroll down this way again after supper if you like,"
suggested Billy, "but just at present a little knife and fork exercise
seems the most pressing business I have to attend to."

Just then their talk was interrupted by a single shot, followed by a
volley of them, and looking back in the direction from which they had
come, they saw men running in the direction of the hut that Rabig had
been guarding.

They turned and ran at full speed and were soon in the midst of an
excited group gathered about the hut.

"What's up?" asked Frank of one of the soldiers.

"Prisoner escaped," replied the other briefly.

"What prisoner?"

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