Army Boys in the French Trenches

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"The fellow that Rabig was guarding. Some way or other he got out,
managed to strike Rabig down and skipped. Poor Rabig's pretty badly
messed up."

The boys looked at each other.

"_Poor_ Rabig," repeated Tom, and there was a world of meaning in his
tone.

CHAPTER X

A GHASTLY BURDEN

The sergeant of the guard came running up quickly, followed by two other
officers of higher rank, and a hurried inquiry took place on the spot.

Rabig had been lifted to his feet from where he had been lying, and
stood supported by two comrades. Blood was running down his face from a
wound in his head. He seemed weak and dazed, although a surgeon who had
been hastily summoned pronounced the wound not dangerous. He seemed to
have been dealt a glancing blow, and, as in the case of all scalp
wounds, the blood had flowed freely.

"Bring a seat for him," commanded the lieutenant in charge, and the
order was promptly obeyed.

"Now, Rabig," proceeded the officer, not unkindly, "tell me about this.
How did you come to lose your prisoner?"

Rabig looked about him in a helpless sort of way.

"I don't know," he mumbled. "My head is swimming so that I can't
remember."

"Try to think," said the officer patiently. Rabig seemed to make an
effort, but did not succeed and fell back in a swoon that put an end for
the present to the questioning.

"Who saw anything of this?" queried the lieutenant, looking about him.
"Does any one know in what direction the prisoner went?"

"If you please, sir," said one of the sentries who had been guarding an
adjacent hut, "I saw a man jump on a horse and go through the woods
there, but it was getting dark and I didn't know but what it might be
one of our own men. But I ran up here and found Rabig lying on the
ground, and the door of the hut was open. I sent a shot after the man on
horseback and so did some of the other men, but we couldn't take aim and
I don't know whether we hit him or not."

"Look alive there," commanded the officer. "Sergeant, take a squad of
men and beat up these woods. The fellow may be hiding there. Take him
dead or alive."

"Yes, sir," replied the sergeant, saluting.

The soldiers standing by were hastily sent into the woods and others
were summoned to join them. The prisoner had got a good start, but by
this time the field telephones were busy all along the line and his
chance of ultimate escape was by no means bright. But he was a powerful
and desperate man, and if he had any weapons at all he would probably
make his capture a costly one.

"He'll reason that he's a dead man if we get him and he might as well
die fighting," remarked Frank, as with his comrades he picked his way
through the woods.

"Righto," agreed Tom. "And even if he didn't have a weapon when he
escaped, there are lots of them lying around and he won't have any
trouble in picking one up."

"I wonder if he'll stick to the horse," mused Bart.

"I hardly think so," replied Billy. "He knows from the shots that were
sent after him that we know he used a horse in escaping and will be
looking for a man on horseback. So he'll try to deceive us by going on
foot."

"He'll probably hang about in the woods until it's pitch dark and then
try to get through the lines," said Frank. "He may be behind any tree or
bush, and we want to be mighty careful to examine each one as we go past
it."

"Maybe he'll climb a tree," suggested Tom, looking up to the branches of
one he happened to be under at the moment.

"Not a chance at this time of the year," objected Billy. "There aren't
any leaves to hide him, and even in the darkness we could probably see
his outline against the sky. Then, too, if he were seen he could be
potted too easily. No, he's not up a tree."

"Queer that he should have got away so soon after we'd been down to the
hut," remarked Frank.

"Queer!" snorted Tom. "It isn't queer at all to my way of thinking. The
whole thing was cut and dried."

"Then you think that Rabig was in cahoots with him?" asked Bart
dubiously.

"I'm sure of it," responded Tom. "Use your common sense, fellows. We see
half a dozen suspicious things that look as if Rabig and the prisoner
had some understanding. A little while after the prisoner escapes.
What's the answer?"

"The answer might be several things," replied Frank, who hated to
believe evil of even his worst enemy. "A lot of things are due to
coincidence. It may be perfectly true that Rabig was in sympathy with
the German, but that doesn't say that he'd go so far as to let him
actually escape. He was taking big chances with his own skin in doing
it."

"Besides, there's no doubt that Rabig was wounded," remarked Bart. "That
fellow seems to have given him an awful knock. He was bleeding like
fury."

"Oh, it was easy enough to arrange that," answered Tom, unconvinced. "It
would have been too raw to have Rabig let the fellow go and still be
safe and sound. How could he explain it? He'd be brought up for
court-martial. But a scalp wound could be easily made where it would
produce the most blood and do the least harm."

"But what object would Rabig have in taking such chances?" asked Billy.
"The fellow had been searched and couldn't have had any money with him."

"No, but he could have promised plenty," argued Tom. "Perhaps he's told
Rabig that the grateful Kaiser would make him rich. How do we know that
Rabig wouldn't fall for that? He's got an ivory dome anyway. If there
were more than two ideas in his head at one time they'd be arrested for
unlawful assemblage."

The boys laughed and Tom went on:

"Besides, how do we know but what Rabig is planning to desert and wants
to pave the way for a warm welcome on the other side? It would be easy
enough to slip across while the lines are so near each other."

"But Rabig seemed to be pretty badly hurt," said Billy. "You saw him
faint."

"Which only proves that he is a good actor," retorted Tom dryly. "Don't
think me hardhearted, fellows, because I'm not. I'm always ready to give
everybody his due. But I feel sure down in my heart that this thing was
all fixed up beforehand, and some day you'll find that I'm right."

For more than two hours they kept up the search without result, and the
fact that they had not had their supper was forced upon them with
growing insistency.

"Isn't there any time limit to this?" grumbled Bart. "I'll be hunting
for acorns instead of a prisoner before long."

"I've got a vacuum where my stomach ought to be," moaned Billy. "Gee,
wouldn't I like to be streaking it for the mess room."

"Cork up, you fellows," commanded Frank. "Listen! I thought I heard
something just then."

The talking ceased instantly, and all stood as rigid as statues.

"It's a horse coming this way," whispered Frank, after a moment of
strained attention. "Quick, fellows, get behind these bushes and have
your rifles ready!"

They crouched low and peered up a little glade that ran through the
forest.

But the noise ceased as suddenly as it had begun and they began to think
that their comrade had been mistaken.

"Guess Frank's been stringing us," chaffed Billy.

"He's the only one who seems to have heard anything," said Tom.

"Don't you worry about my hearing," said Frank. "I tell you I heard a
horse's hoofs. Perhaps the rider suspects something and is trying to get
a line on us, just as we're trying to get one on him."

"It may have been a horse all right," said Billy, "but that doesn't say
he had any rider. He may be rambling around all by his lonesome, and
perhaps he's stopped to graze somewhere."

"There he goes again!" exclaimed Frank, and this time every one of them
heard what was undeniably the thud of a horse's hoofs.

But there was a hesitation, an uncertainty about the animal's movements
that seemed unusual. It moved as though it had no purpose in view no
guiding hand on the reins. At times the canter seemed to subside into a
walk. There was something about this unseen steed, at large in the dim
forest, that gave the boys a most uncomfortable feeling.

Then suddenly a more resolute note in the sound and an increase in its
volume told the listening boys that the horse was coming straight toward
them.

The clatter of hoofs drew nearer, and they clutched their guns more
tightly.

Soon they were able to distinguish in the gloom the outline of a horse
and rider. The man's figure loomed up huge and threatening, and they
felt sure that it was the big German corporal for whom they were
searching.

The boys waited until the horse was almost upon them and then rushed out
into the road.

"Halt!" cried Frank. He seized the horse's rein while the others leveled
their rifles at the rider.

The horse reared in fright, but the rider made no answer nor did he
attempt to draw a weapon.

"Get down!" commanded Frank. "We've got you covered. Surrender."

Still the rider remained silent.

Frank having quieted the horse went alongside and put his hand on the
man's arm.

"Come----" he began, then stopped suddenly.

There was a moment of utter silence, and Frank for the first time in his
life could feel the hair rising on his head. Then he controlled himself.

"Put up your rifles boys," he commanded. "The man is dead!"

CHAPTER XI

WITH THE TANKS

"Dead!" exclaimed Frank's comrades in voices that shook with surprise
and horror.

"That's what I said," replied Frank. "Touch him and see for yourselves."

All did so and found that the body was rigid. How long the horse had
borne his lifeless burden they could not tell. The legs were set stiffly
in the stirrups and the hands had a death grip on the reins.

The boys had seen death in many forms. Scarcely a day had passed since
their arrival at the front without that sad experience. But it had never
seemed so ghastly or uncanny as at this moment. That silent, colossal
figure, seated bolt upright, worked fearfully on their imaginations and
seemed far more formidable than any living enemy would have seemed.

"One of those bullets that the sentries sent after him must have reached
him," said Bart in an awed voice.

"I suppose so," replied Frank. "But it doesn't matter now. Our search is
over."

"What are we going to do with the body?" asked Billy soberly.

"I guess we can't do anything just now," replied Frank. "I don't think
we could get those reins out of his hands anyway, and I for one don't
want to try. Besides, this is the proof for the officers that the
prisoner hasn't escaped. They're anxious, because they don't know what
information he might have been carrying back to the German lines. The
only thing to do is for one of us to lead the horse--with its rider--
back to camp."

This seemed to the others the solution of the problem, although the task
was a gruesome one and they would have gladly evaded it if they could.
It made chills run down the spine to trudge along leading the horse with
that huge figure towering behind them in the darkness, mocking at them
because he had escaped to the silent land from which they could never
bring him back.

But there was comfort in numbers, and what no one of them could perhaps
have done singly they finally accomplished by taking turns, keeping
close together all the while as the ghostly cavalcade wound its way
through the woods.

It was with a sigh of heartfelt relief that they finally drew up before
the friendly lights of the regimental headquarters that had never before
seemed so welcome.

Their coming caused a great sensation, and there was soon a dense crowd
around them, for the uncanny circumstances of their return spread
through the camp like wildfire. The reins were cut from the dead hands
and the body lifted to the ground. Then after making a full report the
boys went to their quarters. They were besieged with inquiries by
curious comrades, but they shook them off as soon as possible. Their
experience had been one that they were only too anxious to forget.

"I don't think I want any supper, after all," remarked Tom to his
friends.

"Same here," responded Bart. "I don't feel as though I'd ever be hungry
again."

"All I want to do is to get to sleep and forget it," said Billy. "That
is, if I _can_ get to sleep."

"You'll sleep all right," observed Frank, "but I wouldn't guarantee you
against nightmare."

But harrowed as their nerves had been, they were too young and healthy
to stand out against the sleep they needed, and when they woke the next
morning both their spirits and their appetites were as good as usual.
Life at the front was too full of work and rush for any one experience
to leave its imprint long.

Their first inquiry after breakfast was for Rabig.

"How's Rabig getting along?" Frank asked of Fred Anderson.

"Oh, he's all right, I guess," answered Fred carelessly. "When the
doctors came to examine him they found that the wound didn't amount to
much. Said he'd be all right in a day or two."

"Is he under arrest?" asked Tom.

"Why, yes, I suppose he is," answered Fred. "But I guess it's a mere
form. The fact that the prisoner didn't finally get away will count in
his favor. It's like baseball. An error is an error, but if the man who
ought to be out at first gets put out when he tries to steal second the
error is harmless. It's no credit to Rabig that a bullet got the man he
let escape, but it's lucky for him just the same."

It was evident that Anderson had no suspicion that Rabig had been guilty
of anything but carelessness, and the boys carefully refrained from
saying anything about what they had gathered from their observation the
day before. But when they were alone together they had no hesitation
about speaking their minds.

"Some fellows could commit murder and get away with it," grumbled Tom.

"Cheer up, you old grouch," chaffed Billy. "At any rate the prisoner
didn't escape, and so there's no harm done."

"And if Rabig is guilty he's got nothing from it but a sore head," put
in Bart.

"I don't feel dead sure that Rabig helped him," said Frank, "and yet the
more I think it over, the more I'm inclined to think that Tom is right
about it. Still, Rabig's entitled to the benefit of the doubt. I know
how the Scotch jury felt when they brought in the verdict: 'Not guilty,
but don't do it again.'"

"That's just what I'm afraid Rabig will do," said Tom. "This time
luckily it didn't matter. The prisoner didn't escape. But if Rabig is a
traitor, how do we know but what the next time he might do something
that might cause a defeat?"

"It does make one uneasy," agreed Bart. "Nick in the regiment is like a
splinter in the finger. It makes you sore. But we'll keep our eyes open
and the very next crooked move he makes it will be curtains for him."

"Or taps," added Billy.

The fighting now had lost the first intensity that had signalized the
day of the mine explosion. The Germans had been strongly reinforced, and
had held their third line, which had now become their first.

"And they've got plenty of other lines behind that one," commented Tom,
as he sat on a trench step cleaning and oiling his rifle.

"Slathers of them," assented Billy. "I suppose they stretch all the way
back to the Rhine."

"It will be some job to root them out of them if we have to storm each
one of them in turn," remarked Bart.

"We don't have to count on that," said Frank confidently. "The Allies
gained twenty-five miles at a clip when they drove Hindenburg back from
the Somme. The Huns may stand out a long while, but when the time comes
they may collapse all at once like the deacon's 'one-hoss shay.'"

The Americans in the meantime had thoroughly reorganized the captured
positions and had held them against a number of strong counter-attacks.
But these became fewer as they failed to produce results, and although
the artillery still kept on growling and barking, the wearied infantry
had a chance to get some of the rest they so sorely needed after their
herculean efforts.

"Nothing to do till to-morrow," yawned Billy, as after performing their
turn of trench duty they found themselves with an hour or two on their
hands.

"Let's take a little hike back of the lines and see what's doing,"
suggested Bart.

"I think there's something in the wind connected with the tanks,"
remarked Frank. "They say there's a bunch of them coming up from all
parts of the front and getting together just back of our division."

"They're hot playthings, all right," commented Tom. "They certainly keep
the Huns on the jump. If we only had enough of them we might roll right
into Berlin."

They passed some of the field batteries where the men, stripped to the
waist, were serving the guns, running the shells in and discharging
their weapons with marvelous smoothness, speed and precision.

"This is the life," chaffed Tom. "You fellows have a picnic here away
back of the lines, while we chaps in the front line do all the work and
stop all the bullets."

"G'wan, you doughboys," retorted a gunner good-naturedly. "If we're
alive here after eight days, the orders are to shoot us for loafing."

A little further on, they came upon a myriad of tanks of all
descriptions. There were "baby" tanks, "whippets," "male" and "female,"
all with different functions to perform during a battle. Just as in the
navy there are vessels of all sizes from a light scout to a
super-dreadnought, so already this arm of the service was developing
various grades, each to do some special work for which the others were
not so well adapted.

"See how they're hidden," said Frank, as he pointed to a very forest of
bushes and branches that extended above the array of tanks.

"That's to keep the Boche aviators guessing," observed Bart. "They'd
give their eyes if they could only spy out where these fellows are being
massed."

"I heard one of the fellows say that the tanks travel only at night so
that the Boches can't track them," said Tom.

"And see what a raft of them have been got together here," said Billy.
"I tell you, fellows, there's something big going to be pulled off
before long."

"Say, boys, see who's here!" exclaimed Frank, and they turned to see
Will Stone coming toward them with a broad smile of welcome on his
bronzed face.

CHAPTER XII

BREAKING THROUGH

There was a rush toward Will Stone, and in a moment the Army boys were
shaking hands with a vigor that showed the pleasure they felt at again
meeting their acquaintance, who belonged to the tank division.

"Say, fellows, have a heart," Will grinned. "I need these hands in my
business. But it sure does me good to see you again. And all of you
alive and kicking! I'll bet that's more than some of the Huns are that
you've run up against."

"Oh, we're still able to sit up and take nourishment," laughed Frank.
"But tell us about yourself, old man. You look like ready money."

"I see you have a marking different from what you had when we saw you
last," remarked Bart, looking at the insignia that proclaimed Will an
officer.

"And look at that war cross!" cried Tom. "I guess you've been some busy
little bee to get that. Shake again, old scout."

Stone flushed and looked a little embarrassed.

"Only a few little skirmishes here and there," he said deprecatingly.
"But the real big thing is yet to come. Look at this army of tanks.
We've never had so many in one place since the war began."

"Looks like a herd of elephants," commented Frank, as his eye ran along
the array that seemed to number hundreds. "They'll do more trampling
than any herd of elephants that ever trod the earth," remarked Stone
grimly. "But come along, fellows, and let me show you my own particular
pet. It's the biggest one of the bunch, and it's a peach! We call it
Jumbo, and it carries a crew of twenty men."

They followed him till they came to a monster tank on which Stone placed
his hand caressingly.

"Isn't it a beauty?" he asked, as he beamed upon them.

"I should call it a holy terror," grinned Frank.

"What the Huns will call it won't be fit for publication," laughed
Billy.

"I guess they've already exhausted the German vocabulary," chuckled
Stone. "But just wait until this beauty of mine goes climbing over their
trenches and smashing their pill boxes and tearing away their
entanglements. Then they'll know what they're up against."

"I only wish we could see you while you're doing it," remarked Tom.

"Likely enough you will," replied Stone. "From things I've picked up
here and there I think the infantry will be right alongside of us in the
next big jamboree. Don't you fellows make any mistake about it, there's
going to be one of the biggest stunts of the war pulled off in the
course of the next few days. Mithridates with his elephants won't be a
circumstance to us with our tanks. There sure is bound to be some lovely
fighting."

"Let it come!" exclaimed Tom.

"And come quickly," chimed in Frank.

"The only thing I'm sorry for is that you're in the Canadian
contingent," said Bart. "I want to see you leading the way in a U. S. A.
tank."

"You may yet," replied Stone. "Uncle Sam will soon be sending over his
tanks, and you bet when they do come they'll be lallapaloozers with all
the modern improvements, and then some! And the minute that happens I'm
going to apply to be transferred to the United States army. These
Canadians are among the finest men in the world and they're doing
magnificent fighting, but still I'll feel more natural when I'm fighting
under the Stars and Stripes."

"Well, that won't be long now," replied Frank. "Our men and our guns and
our tanks and everything else we need to lick the Kaiser will be coming
in droves pretty soon. And then watch our smoke."

"Right you are," agreed Stone enthusiastically.

Then as a trumpet rang out he added: "That's the signal for a rehearsal,
fellows, and I'll have to get on the job. We're going to put our
machines through their paces. I'm mighty glad to have seen you again,
and I wish you no end of luck."

"Come over to our line when you get a chance and see the way our boys
are shaping up," was Frank's invitation, which was echoed heartily by
the others.

"You bet I will," responded Stone, as with a wave of his hand he went to
his work, while the boys strolled back to their quarters.

"He's the real stuff," commented Frank. "All wool and a yard wide."

"He'd rather fight than eat," observed Tom.

"If the Canadians take him as a sample, no wonder they're glad to see
Uncle Sam mix in," remarked Billy.

Some days went by, days of steady rush and preparation. It was evident
that some big operation was near at hand. Troops were moved up from
other portions of the long line that stretched from Switzerland to the
sea. There were the bronzed Tommies in khaki, the snappy, dashing poilus
in their uniforms of corn-flower blue, veterans hardened in a score of
battles from Ypres to Verdun. And right alongside of them in closest
comradeship and gallant rivalry were the stalwart sons of the United
States of America, the very flower of her youth, who had already had
their baptism of fire and who had sworn to themselves that no flag
should be further in the van than Old Glory when it came to the stern
test of battle.

Nearer and nearer the tanks had crept to the front of the line and taken
up their places in front of great openings that had been made in the
wire entanglements and skilfully concealed from the enemy.

A certain number of them were assigned to lead each regiment, and the
Camport boys' delight was great when they saw that Jumbo, with a squad
of assisting tanks, had been told off to lead their regiment.

"Just what the doctor ordered," exulted Frank, when he saw Stone step
out of the door of the monster tank.

"We'll follow you, old man, till the cows come home," called Bart, as
the boys crowded around the young operator.

"We'll try to make a broad path for you," laughed Stone, as he returned
their greeting cordially.

"When is the show coming off?" asked Billy.

"Almost any time now, I guess," replied Stone. "About all we need is a
nice misty morning. It's up to the weather sharps to tip us off. Then
we'll amble over and give the Huns a little shaking up."

Several days passed with the weather exasperatingly clear. Usually the
soldiers would have welcomed the bright sunny mornings. But now, when
they were keyed up to a high pitch, the one thing they longed for was a
dull and lowering sky that would favor the great enterprise they had on
hand.

"You might think the boys were a lot of grangers after a dry spell, from
the way they're praying for rain," remarked Billy, as for the hundredth
time he scanned the sky.

"Remember how different it used to be when we had a baseball game on
hand?" laughed Frank. "Then a gleam of sunshine was like money from home
after you'd been broke for a week."

"That cloud a little while ago looked as though it might have had
thunder and lightning behind it," observed Bart, "but it was only a
false alarm."

"Nothing but wind, like a German bulletin," grinned Billy, stretching
himself.

"Or their U-boat prophecies," added Frank. "But cheer up, fellows, this
sunshine can't last forever."

There came at last just the kind of weather wanted. A soft drizzle set
in at nightfall, not enough to make the ground muddy, but enough to make
the steaming and saturated air lie heavy on the earth. Everything
indicated that there would be a fog at dawn.

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