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Title: Dave Porter's war honors
        Or at the front with the fighting engineers

Author: Edward Stratemeyer

Illustrator: Robert Emmett Owen

Release date: September 30, 2024 [eBook #74496]

Language: English

Original publication: Boston: Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co

Credits: Aaron Adrignola, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAVE PORTER'S WAR HONORS ***


[Illustration: HE MADE A LONG LEAP FORWARD, BRINGING THE GUN-BUTT DOWN
DIRECTLY ON THE HEAD OF THE GERMAN.--_Page 98._]




  Dave Porter Series

  DAVE PORTER’S WAR
  HONORS

  OR

  AT THE FRONT WITH THE FIGHTING
  ENGINEERS

  BY
  EDWARD STRATEMEYER

  Author of “Dave Porter at Oak Hall,” “Old Glory Series,”
  “Colonial Series,” “Lakeport Series,” etc.

  _ILLUSTRATED BY R. EMMETT OWEN_

  [Illustration]

  BOSTON
  LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.




  Published, April, 1919

  COPYRIGHT, 1919,
  BY LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.

  _All rights reserved_

  DAVE PORTER’S WAR HONORS

  Norwood Press
  BERWICK & SMITH CO.
  NORWOOD, MASS.
  U. S. A.




PREFACE


“Dave Porter’s War Honors” is a complete story in itself, but forms the
fifteenth volume in a line issued under the general title, “Dave Porter
Series.”

As my old readers know, this line was begun years ago by the
publication of “Dave Porter at Oak Hall,” in which I introduced a
wide-awake American boy at a typical American boarding-school. This
was followed by “Dave Porter in the South Seas,” and then by “Dave
Porter’s Return to School.” After that we had “Dave Porter in the Far
North,” where the lad went on a long journey looking for his father;
“Dave Porter and His Classmates,” in which the hero was put to a most
severe test; and then by “Dave Porter at Star Ranch,” where a number of
strenuous adventures befell him.

Leaving the West, Dave returned again to school, as related in “Dave
Porter and His Rivals.” Then came a remarkable voyage, as narrated in
“Dave Porter on Cave Island”; following which he taught some of his
school friends a much-needed lesson, the particulars of which were set
forth in “Dave Porter and the Runaways.”

It was not long after this that we again found our hero in the West,
as related in “Dave Porter in the Gold Fields,” where he helped to
relocate a lost mine. Coming back, he put in a grand vacation in the
Adirondack Mountains, many of the particulars of which are told in
“Dave Porter at Bear Camp.”

Graduating from school, our hero took up the study of civil
engineering. This at first took him to the Mexican Border, as related
in “Dave Porter and His Double,” and then out to Montana, as we learn
in “Dave Porter’s Great Search.”

The great war in Europe was now on, and the entrance of our country
into the contest caused Dave to become an army engineer. He went to
France and there had some decidedly strenuous adventures, as told in
“Dave Porter Under Fire.”

In the present volume Dave is still with the “fighting engineers” on
the war-scarred battle-fields of France. His adventures are thrilling
in the extreme, but no more so than have fallen to the lot of many a
young American in this epoch-making conflict.

Again I thank my many readers for the interest they have shown in my
books; and I trust that the reading of the present volume will inspire
all with an added love for our country.

                                                     EDWARD STRATEMEYER.




CONTENTS


  CHAPTER                                     PAGE

       I NEAR THE FIGHTING FRONT                 1

      II THE GAS ATTACK                         12

     III THE FINDING OF ROGER                   21

      IV LETTERS                                30

       V NEWS FROM HOME                         41

      VI A BATTLE IN THE AIR                    52

     VII THE GERMAN AVIATOR                     62

    VIII THE PERILS OF ROAD BUILDING            73

      IX IN THE THICK OF THE FIGHT              83

       X DAVE SHOWS HIS BRAVERY                 94

      XI IN THE HOSPITAL                       104

     XII WHAT NAT POOLE SAID                   115

    XIII THE DISTINGUISHED SERVICE MEDAL       125

     XIV THE MACHINE-GUN NESTS                 136

      XV LIEUTENANT PORTER                     146

     XVI A PERSONAL AFFAIR                     156

    XVII AT THE TRENCHES                       166

   XVIII THE GERMAN PRISONER                   175

     XIX AT THE BROOK                          186

      XX ATTACKED IN THE DARK                  196

     XXI IN THE ABANDONED MINES                205

    XXII LOOKING FOR DAVE                      215

   XXIII A PRISONER OF THE ENEMY               227

    XXIV TRYING TO ESCAPE                      238

     XXV THE ENCOUNTER ON THE RIVER            249

    XXVI DEEP IN THE WOODS                     259

   XXVII WHAT DAVE’S CHUMS DID                 269

  XXVIII THE GERMAN HEADQUARTERS               280

    XXIX THE LAST FIGHT                        289

     XXX CAPTAIN DAVID PORTER--CONCLUSION      298




ILLUSTRATIONS


  He made a long leap forward, bringing the gun-butt
    down directly on the head of the German (page 98)     _Frontispiece_

                                                                  FACING
                                                                   PAGE

  Immediately afterward came a tremendous explosion                   28

  As well as he was able, he put out his uninjured arm and
    Dave grasped it                                                   66

  Upon the breast of the young sergeant was pinned a
    Distinguished Service Medal                                      132

  There came down on their heads a perfect shower of dirt            162

  One of them held him at the point of a bayonet                     228

  Dave took a long breath and then made the leap                     252

  With a quick move he gathered in the maps and documents            288




DAVE PORTER’S WAR HONORS




CHAPTER I

NEAR THE FIGHTING FRONT


“Phil, where is Roger?”

“I don’t know, Dave. I haven’t seen him for the last quarter of an
hour.”

“You don’t suppose he got lost somewhere in that gully we crossed?”
continued Dave Porter, with an anxious look on his bronzed face.

“It wouldn’t be surprising, Dave,” answered Phil Lawrence. “I almost
got lost myself, the tangle of underbrush was so thick.”

“Yes, and don’t forget that we had to hide once or twice when the
Boches sent over those big shells,” broke in another member of the
engineering party, that was working its way through some scrub timber
not a great distance back of the American fighting front in France.

“I’m not forgetting that,” answered Dave grimly.

He well remembered how he had heard the whining of a shell, had
dropped down into a shell crater, and then heard the missile explode
some distance away. His left shin had been barked, and likewise his
shoulder, but to these small hurts he was just then paying no attention.

“We might set up a call for him,” said another of the army engineers, a
rather stout individual.

“No, don’t do that, Buster!” cried Dave hastily. “Some of those Boches
may be closer than we imagine. I heard a report from somebody yesterday
that they thought the Germans had some machine-gun nests in the upper
end of this wood.”

“Say, talking about machine-guns puts me in mind of a story I heard
last night,” broke in a tall, lanky-appearing engineer. “Two men of a
gun company had a--”

“For the love of beans, Shadow! don’t start to tell a story now,” broke
in Phil Lawrence. “Keep those for to-night, when we get back to our
shelter.”

“It wasn’t a very long story,” grumbled the would-be story-teller.
“However, it will keep,” he added resignedly. “But say! it sure is
funny about Roger. The last I saw of him he was crossing that gully
about a hundred feet away from where I was.”

“You saw him go down, I suppose, Shadow,” remarked Dave. “But did you
see him come up?”

“I did not. I was busy looking out for myself. I was afraid the minute
I showed myself some sharpshooter or machine-gun crowd would fire on
me.”

“It’s too bad we couldn’t go forward and finish that road we started,”
said another of the young engineers, Ben Basswood. “I don’t understand
it at all.”

“Well, orders are orders, Ben; and they must be obeyed,” answered Dave,
with a smile. He was now a sergeant and in command of the detail which
was making its way through that section of the wood on the American
front.

“Oh, I know that!” responded Dave’s former school chum quickly. “I
suppose there must be a good reason for stopping the work. By the way,
it looks to me as if a storm was coming up.”

“Gee! we’ve had nothing but storms lately,” grumbled Phil Lawrence. “At
least five in the last two weeks! You’d think there wouldn’t be any
more water left in the sky.”

Over to the eastward a heavy mass of clouds had appeared. There had
been but little wind, but now the leaves began to stir, and then a
breeze sprang up, while the heavens began to grow dark rapidly. Far
off to the north there had been a constant booming of heavy artillery,
punctuated occasionally by the rattle of smaller firearms. Now the
booming of the cannon on the German, front commenced to extend
southward.

“Say, that sounds as if we might get in the direct line of fire before
long!” cried Phil.

“Perhaps that’s the reason we were ordered to go back,” answered Dave.
“Come, boys, we’ll have to hurry a bit. Hike up.”

The young civil engineers were well loaded down, not only with full
soldier kits, including guns, but also with various tools, including
picks, shovels and axes. Consequently, to “hike up” over the uneven
ground and through the scrub timber and rank undergrowth was by no
means easy.

“This traveling sure does get a fellow’s wind,” grumbled Buster, as he
stopped for a moment to catch his breath and run the perspiration from
his forehead with the side of his finger. “Talk about exercise--this
beats anything I ever did in the Oak Hall gym.”

“Wow! wouldn’t old Oak Hall look good to us now?” cried Shadow,
his eyes shining. “Think of that comfortable mess-hall, with those
beautiful tables all set with clean linen and chinaware, and the
smoking hot meat, not to say anything about the mashed potatoes, green
corn, lima beans, and that beautiful pie, and--”

“Say! if you keep on talking that way, I’ll drown you in the first
shell-hole full of water we come to!” burst out Phil. “I’m hungry
enough now without your making me worse.”

“Never mind, boys, I guess there will be a good hot mulligan waiting
for us when we get to camp,” said Dave, with a grin.

The detail of which Dave Porter was in command consisted of twelve
army engineers. The majority of them were young men, four of whom were
Dave’s personal friends and old school chums. All had been tramping
through the wood for the best part of an hour, trying to reach their
headquarters, located among some hills farther to the southward.

“Say, Dave, did Roger tell you anything about his gas mask?” questioned
Phil, while the two were walking side by side, with the others behind.

“He told me yesterday that he didn’t think it was in very good working
order,” was the reply. “He said he wanted to have it fixed when he got
back to camp.”

“Well, he tried to fix it himself this morning, and in doing it broke
the mouthpiece.”

“Didn’t he get it fixed at all?” questioned the young sergeant of the
engineer quickly.

“I don’t think he did. He didn’t have time.”

“That’s too bad! He ought to have taken time. It’s dangerous to be out
in this neighborhood without a mask that is in good working order.”

“That’s what I told him. But he said he guessed it would be all right.”

The young civil engineers now reached a portion of the wood where the
ground was very uneven and interspersed with many jagged rocks. Here,
in some places, the shell-fire of a former battle had thrown up the
ground and the growth in violent fashion, so that they were often at a
loss how to progress. Once Dave stepped into some undergrowth and went
down into a hole up to his knees, and a moment later came a stifled cry
from Buster Beggs.

“Hello! there goes Buster!” cried Shadow.

“Where did he go?” questioned Dave, turning around.

“Slid off through those bushes on the left.”

“Help me! Somebody pull me out, or I’ll drown!” called the hapless
engineer.

Working their way through the bushes, the others saw Buster floundering
around in a shell crater which was about ten feet in diameter and of
unknown depth. It was almost filled with dirty water, and in this
the young engineer was struggling, the load on his back dragging him
downward.

Standing on the edge of the shell-hole, Dave extended the stock of his
gun, and Phil did likewise, and, grasping both of these, Buster was
dragged to the edge of the hole, and then willing hands assisted him
once more to his feet.

“What’s the matter, Buster? Didn’t you see the hole?” questioned Dave.

“I did, when it was too late,” was the answer. “The ground on that
side is all wet and slippery, and I went down on it like on a
toboggan-slide. Say! I’m some wet and muddy, eh?” and he looked at
himself dolefully.

“Never mind. You’ll not mind the storm that is coming up,” remarked
Dave. “Unless I miss my guess, we’ll all be soaked to the skin in a few
minutes.”

To the rumble of the distant guns was now added the rumble of thunder.
Then came several sharp flashes of lightning, and the wind came rushing
through the wood.

“It’s coming, all right enough!” cried Phil.

“Come! Hike up and follow me!” cried Dave. “I think I know where we can
get a little shelter if it becomes too bad.”

Carrying their heavy packs and engineering implements as best they
could, the engineers hurried along through the wood at Dave’s heels.
The young sergeant was headed for a small hill, to one side of which
was something of a cliff that he thought might offer at least slight
protection from the on-coming storm. He had visited the cliff some days
before, and had noticed that there was more or less of a hollow beneath
it, a hollow screened by a number of trees and some dense underbrush.

As they advanced, Dave could not but think of his chum, Roger Morr.

“He should have kept close to us,” said Dave to Ben. “There is no use
in taking chances by straying away in such a dangerous locality as
this.”

“Maybe Roger was hit by a stray bullet and we never knew it,” was the
reply. “You know every once in a while some poor fellow is knocked out
that way.”

“Oh, don’t say that, Ben!” answered Dave, and then he became
exceedingly thoughtful. Roger was engaged to Dave’s sister, and what
would Laura say if the young civil engineer should be thus laid low?

The engineers came in sight of the cliff just as the first big drops
of the on-coming storm came beating down on the leaves. Without
hesitation, Dave led the way through some heavy underbrush until the
foot of the cliff was gained.

“Well, this is some shelter, but not a great deal,” remarked Shadow.

“Better than being out there in the open,” returned Buster.

He had scarcely spoken when there came a vivid flash of lightning,
followed by a deafening crash of thunder. Then came another crash not
a great distance away.

“Gee! that lightning struck a tree pretty close to us!” gasped one of
the engineers.

“There it is--right up on the top of the cliff!” exclaimed Phil.

“Look out! It’s coming down!” announced Dave. “Come in close to the
rocks, all of you!”

The engineers did as directed, and a moment later they heard the big
tree rolling and crashing through the underbrush some distance away.
Then came another crash of thunder, followed by a tremendous downpour
of rain.

Keeping close to the foot of the cliff, Dave and the others of his
party began to search around among the rocks. Presently one of the
young fellows set up a shout.

“Here is an opening! I don’t know how deep it is, but it looks to be
pretty roomy.”

Dave carried a pocket flashlight with him, and this was turned on to
dispel the gloom, for the sky was now completely overcast, and under
the cliff it was quite dark.

“It’s a regular cave,” announced the young sergeant, after a hasty
examination. “Here, Phil, give me your hand and I will let myself down
and look around.”

The opening under the cliff proved to be amply large to shelter all
of them, and the army engineers were glad enough to get into it and
relieve themselves of their packs. Then they sat down to rest and to
talk over the situation.

“I’d feel a good deal better if Roger were with us,” remarked Dave to
Phil, as he and his old school chum peered forth from the opening of
the cave-like shelter.

“You’ve said it, Dave!” was the low reply. “Gee! if anything happened
to Roger--” Phil did not finish, but shook his head gravely.

“I’m going out to look for him just as soon as the storm lets up.”

“You’ll let me go along, won’t you, Dave?” questioned the other
quickly. Phil himself was only a corporal, so he must obey any order
from a superior.

“Of course,” was the ready response.

The engineers had emergency rations with them, and they lost no time
in satisfying their hunger as best they could, building a small fire
for the purpose of making some hot chocolate and drying out Buster’s
water-soaked garments.

The rather scanty meal finished, Dave, followed by Phil, crawled out of
the shelter and walked forward to where the base of the cliff came to
an end. Here they could still hear the booming of the distant artillery.

“Looks to me as if the storm was letting up,” remarked Phil. “And the
wind is dying down, too.”

To this remark Dave made no answer. He was listening intently, and now
to hear better he placed his hand to his ear.

“What do you hear?” questioned Phil, after a moment of silence.

“Listen for yourself, Phil.”

The other young engineer did so, and then a look of alarm came into his
face.

“Is that a gas attack warning, Dave?”

“That’s just what it is, Phil! The Germans must be launching such an
attack!”

“That’s bad!”

“Notify the others at once, Phil. Tell the men I want them to take no
chances, but get their masks on and keep them on until they are dead
sure it is perfectly safe to take them off.”

“But what are you going to do?”

“I’m going out to look for Roger. If he’s lost in the woods, or if he’s
been wounded and is without a mask that will work, he’s in danger of
his life.”

“But you said I could go along!”

“All right, then, follow me. But warn all the others first,” answered
Dave; and then hurried off through the rain-soaked wood on the hunt for
his missing chum.




CHAPTER II

THE GAS ATTACK


“I’ve got to find Roger--I’ve _got_ to do it!”

Such were the words that Dave murmured to himself as he dashed away
from Phil’s side, making off in the direction where he had last seen
Roger Morr. As he advanced he adjusted his gas mask, knowing that it
would be foolhardy to move along without it, even though it somewhat
impeded his breathing.

Dave was filled with a great fear for the welfare of the lad who had
been his chum for so many years and who just before leaving home had
become engaged to his sister.

“If he’s all right, he’ll know how to make use of his gas mask, even if
the mouthpiece is broken,” he reasoned to himself. “But if he’s badly
wounded, or is unconscious, he won’t be able to save himself when the
gas reaches him. Oh, I’ve got to find him--I’ve just _got_ to!”

To those of my readers who have perused one or more of the former
volumes in this series, Dave Porter will need no introduction. For the
benefit, however, of those who are now meeting Dave for the first
time, let me state a few facts concerning his boyhood and the years
immediately following.

When a very small lad Dave had been found wandering alongside the
railroad tracks in Crumville in one of our eastern States. No one came
forward to claim him, and he was put in the local poorhouse and later
on bound out to a one-time college professor, Caspar Potts, who was
then farming for his health.

In a fine mansion on the outskirts of Crumville dwelt Mr. Oliver
Wadsworth, a wealthy jewelry manufacturer, with his wife and his
daughter Jessie. One day the gasoline tank of an automobile took fire,
and little Jessie was in danger of being burned to death when Dave, who
chanced to be near, rushed to her rescue. Because of this brave act,
the rich jewelry manufacturer became interested in the boy and decided
that he should be given the benefit of a good education.

The lad was sent to a first-class boarding-school, as related in the
first volume of this series, entitled, “Dave Porter at Oak Hall.” With
Dave went Ben Basswood, his one friend in the town.

At Oak Hall, Dave made a host of friends, including Roger Morr, the son
of a well-known United States senator; Phil Lawrence, whose father was
a rich shipowner; Maurice Hamilton, who loved to tell stories and who
was generally known as “Shadow” because of his thinness: and Buster
Beggs, who was as stout as he was good-natured.

It can be easily understood that in those days the principal thing that
troubled Dave was the question of his parentage. Some mean schoolboys
called him a “poorhouse nobody”; and to solve the mystery of his
identity he took a long voyage, as related in “Dave Porter in the South
Seas.” He met his uncle, Dunston Porter, and learned much concerning
his father, David Breslow Porter, and also his sister Laura, who were
at that time traveling in Europe.

After his trip to the South Seas, Dave returned for a while to school,
but then went to the Far North and succeeded in locating his father.

In the meantime, Dave’s sister had gone to the West, to visit her
intimate friend, Belle Endicott, who lived on Star Ranch in Montana.
Later still, Laura, Dave and some of his chums visited the ranch and
there had “the time of their lives,” as they afterward declared.

Coming back from the West, Dave supposed that matters would flow
along smoothly, but such was not the case. At Christmas time came a
startling robbery of the Wadsworth jewelry works, and Dave and his
chums discovered that the crime had been committed by two of the former
bullies of Oak Hall. After a voyage to Cave Island one of the rascals
was captured and the stolen goods recovered.

The trip to Cave Island was later on followed by another to the great
West, where Dave aided Roger Morr in relocating a gold mine which had
been inherited by Mrs. Morr and lost through a landslide.

After this our hero went to Bear Camp in the Adirondack Mountains.
There he had a most unusual experience, falling in with a young man who
was almost his double in appearance.

Dave had now graduated from Oak Hall, and he and Roger Morr had taken
up the profession of civil engineering. This work at first took
them to Texas, and then to the wilds of Montana. They had positions
with the Mentor Construction Company, and their camp was under the
general management of Mr. Ralph Obray, assisted by a number of others,
including a middle-aged engineer, Frank Andrews, who speedily became a
warm friend of the youths.

It was a great day for the young civil engineers when they set sail
for Central America to assist in the work of building a railroad in
Costa Rica. This was at the time when the World War was in progress in
Europe, but before the United States had entered the conflict. They
were in the midst of some exciting happenings in the Central American
republic when word came that the United States had joined with the
Allies “to make the world safe for democracy.”

“Roger, how would you like to become an army engineer?” Dave had asked
of his chum. And then he had spoken of how the United States Government
would probably need hundreds of army engineers to assist the soldiers
in their battles with the Central Powers.

Mr. Ralph Obray had once been a major in the State militia, and on
returning to the United States he became a captain of a unit of the
engineers raised by the Engineering Society. He was very anxious to
have Dave and Roger join this unit, and after consulting with their
folks, the two young civil engineers were sworn into the service. With
them went Ben Basswood, and also Phil Lawrence, Shadow Hamilton, and
Buster Beggs.

Before the boys left home to go to Camp Hickory, as the cantonment
was called, several interesting events took place. As my old readers
know, to Dave there was no girl in the world quite so nice as Jessie
Wadsworth, and the pair had a very definite understanding regarding
what they intended to do when Dave returned from the war.

Roger had always been very attentive to Laura Porter, and just before
leaving for camp their engagement was announced.

On his first trip to Star Ranch, Phil Lawrence had become enamored of
Belle Endicott, and the happiness of his chums made him exceedingly
anxious regarding his own future. He sent an earnest telegram to Belle;
and a little later met that young lady in New York City and there got
her to promise something which was in every degree highly satisfactory
to the shipowner’s son.

From Camp Hickory the young civil engineers entrained for an American
port, and there went aboard one of the big army transports, as related
in the last volume of this series, entitled, “Dave Porter Under Fire.”

This transport was attacked by two submarines, but escaped injury, and
a little later the young soldiers found themselves on French soil. Here
they went into intensive training for a number of weeks and were then
sent to the front.

While in the training camp at home Dave and the others had made the
acquaintance of a French widow, who had suffered much because of the
war and because of the doings of a German spy, named Rudolph Holtzmann.
The poor widow’s two children had been lost during the first upheaval
of war in Alsace-Lorraine, and to add to her misery she was later on
robbed by the spy, who had been boarding with her.

All the “fighting engineers,” as they were affectionately termed, had
had some strenuous adventures during those first few weeks on the
firing line. They had been set to building roadways and bridges,
and had been under fire on more than one occasion. Then, during a
brief respite in their work, Dave had gotten word concerning Rudolph
Holtzmann, and, with the aid of the French authorities, had succeeded
in cornering this rascal and had discovered the whereabouts of the
Widow Carot’s missing children.

Dave, Roger, and Phil had been cited in the orders of the day for
bravery, and a little later Dave had been made a sergeant of the
engineers, while Roger and Phil became corporals.

“You’re getting up in the world, Dave,” had been Roger’s comment.
“First thing you know, you’ll be a lieutenant or a captain.”

“Time enough for that, Roger,” Dave answered. “I think you’ve got just
as good a chance as I have. In fact, I can’t understand why they didn’t
make you and Phil sergeants as well as myself.”

“Oh, we didn’t do as much as you did,” the senator’s son had answered.
“You always were a natural-born leader.”

“Oh, cut it, Roger!” Dave had cried. Nevertheless, he knew that his
chum was sincere in what he said, and he was correspondingly pleased.
At heart Roger was one of the best fellows in the world, and it was
with intense satisfaction that Dave had learned the young man was one
day to become his only sister’s husband.

And that was the reason why, as he dashed through the rain-soaked wood,
Dave told himself that he must find Roger, no matter at what cost. He
felt that if he failed in this his sister would never forgive him, and,
for the matter of that, he would never forgive himself.

He ploughed forward through the soaked underbrush and scrambled over
the rough rocks as best he could. Then, as looking through the mask was
difficult, he took a deep breath, and, holding it, took the mask off
for a moment to gaze around him anxiously. But no human being was in
sight, and, readjusting his mask, he went forward once again. Glancing
backward, he saw that Phil was swiftly following him.

Off to the north of where he had been walking there had been at one
time something of a woods’ trail, used probably by the farmers of that
vicinity. This was much torn up, with shell craters dotting it at short
distances. As Dave came closer to this abandoned trail he caught sight
of something which caused him to stop in wonder. There, sheltered by
some rocks and a mass of brushwood, were a heap of unused shells,
evidently for three-inch guns.

“How in the world did those shells get here?” he asked himself. “They
certainly don’t belong to our artillery.”

A brief examination revealed to the young engineer that they were
German shells. They had probably been left there by the Huns at the
time they had tried to take the wood several weeks before. A slight
advance had been made by one or two German regiments, but this had been
repulsed by the American artillery.

“I’ll have to report this to headquarters as soon as I get back,” he
told himself.

He was just turning away from the pile of shells when Phil came up.
He pointed the pile out to his chum, and the young corporal was much
surprised. He motioned to the shells and then toward the American line,
but Dave shook his head and pointed toward the German line, to indicate
that they must be shells left there by the enemy.

So far there was but a slight trace of gas throughout the wood, but
as the two young civil engineers advanced they met a cloud of the
poisonous vapor rolling toward them in a yellowish haze. Dave felt of
his mask to make sure that it was properly adjusted and pointed to
Phil’s, who nodded to show that he also was on his guard.

Presently the pair reached the spot where Roger had last been seen by
them. They looked around in every direction, but without avail. Then
Dave looked at his chum, but Phil merely shrugged his shoulders to show
that he did not know what to make of the situation or what to do next.




CHAPTER III

THE FINDING OF ROGER


As the two young army engineers turned away from where they were
standing to look up and down the gully which had been crossed at the
time they had seen the last of their chum, they noticed that the cloud
of poisonous gas was growing more dense. On every side the water-laden
wood showed a thick and sickly yellow haze, the very appearance of
which was enough to make one shudder.

For the time being the rain had let up. Overhead the heavy clouds were
passing swiftly to the southward, but the wind seemed to be too high up
to drive the poisonous gas away.

Dave and his chum traveled all of a quarter of a mile down the gully
without getting any trace of Roger. Then they came back on the far side
of the gully and progressed in the opposite direction.

This upper section of the wood had been under fire several times during
the war, and was consequently much torn up. Shell-holes were to be met
at every little distance, and here and there the dying trees lay across
the underbrush.

Presently Dave clutched his chum by the arm and pointed to an opening
leading down into the gully at a point which so far had not been
explored. There on the ground lay a newspaper--a copy of the _Stars and
Stripes_, the official sheet of the American Expeditionary Force in
France. Both of the young civil engineers were much interested in the
discovery of this newspaper, for they remembered that Roger had had a
copy of the publication with him on their last trip forward. In fact,
the senator’s son had read some articles aloud for the benefit of his
friends.

“If this is the newspaper he was carrying, he must have come this way,”
was Dave’s reasoning, and Phil was of a similar mind.

With caution, for the going was treacherous, the two young engineers
made their way down the rocks and over the muddy places and through the
rain-soaked underbrush toward the bottom of the gully, which, at this
point, was thirty or forty feet in depth and probably twice that in
width at the top. At the bottom was a tiny watercourse, gurgling over
and around the jagged rocks.

Reaching the watercourse, Dave and Phil looked up and down for some
trace of their missing chum. But on account of the poisonous haze,
which filled the gully, it was difficult to see any considerable
distance.

Dave motioned to his chum that he was going farther up the gully, and
Phil nodded to show that he was willing to continue the search, even
though the poisonous gas in that hollow might be highly dangerous for
both of them.

They had progressed less than a hundred feet when, on coming to a
momentary halt, they suddenly found several small stones rolling toward
them from one side of the gully. Looking up in that direction, they
discovered Roger seated on a rock and motioning to them.

The lost young engineer had his gas mask adjusted, for which both Dave
and Phil were thankful. But he sat on the rock nursing his left ankle,
and now they saw that he had removed his shoe and had the ankle bound
with a bandage.

By looking up behind Roger it was easy to make out what had happened
to him. In trying to make his way out of the gully after coming down
from the other side, he had trusted his weight to some bushes near the
top. They had given way, and he had come down almost to the bottom with
a rush, falling and rolling over some sharp rocks as he did so. Then
he showed them how his left foot had become caught between two of the
rocks, and this had twisted his ankle, making it so painful that he
could not use the foot.

Dave felt that the first thing for him and Phil to do was to get Roger
out of the gas-choked gully. The young engineers had had not a little
experience in carrying wounded men, and now this helped them to lift
Roger and move him without causing the hurt ankle much additional pain.
They did not attempt to get to the top of the gully at that point,
but walked along the watercourse for several hundred feet, until they
reached a point where egress from the hollow was comparatively easy. On
the upper level all were glad to notice that the gas was considerably
thinner. Here the breeze was beginning to freshen, and this was serving
to dissipate the noxious chemicals. But even though the gas was
becoming thinner and thinner, the young engineers knew better than to
remove their masks too quickly.

Having reached the top of the gully, Dave decided to set off in the
direction of the cliff where he had left the others of his detail. In
order to make certain of the direction he pulled out a pocket compass
for consultation. Then, more out of habit than because he wanted to
know the time, he looked for his watch.

The timepiece was gone! It had disappeared along with the strap that
had held it.

Dave was startled, and not without good reason, for the wrist-watch was
one that had been presented to him on leaving for the front and was
both handsome and valuable.

Like a flash it suddenly came to the young engineer where the watch had
been dropped. He remembered now that he had looked at it when about
to turn away from the pile of German shells which he had found hidden
near the old wood trail. After looking at the watch he now remembered
that something had struck his foot, which at the time he had thought
was a stick or a stone. Now he felt sure it must have been the missing
timepiece.

It would not be much out of their way to return to the vicinity of the
cliff by way of the spot where the pile of shells had been discovered,
and so Dave and Phil set off in that direction carrying Roger between
them. The wind was now coming up strongly; and soon they felt it would
be safe to remove their gas masks, and accordingly did so.

“Gosh! but I’m glad to get this off,” were Phil’s first words, after
he had cautiously tested the air with his nose to discover if he could
still detect the odor of gas.

Even though the mouthpiece on his mask had been broken, Roger had had
little difficulty in using the outfit, and had not suffered from the
poisonous attack. But his left ankle pained him not a little, and when,
supported by his chums, he attempted to stand on his foot he made a
decidedly wry face.

“Ouch!” he exclaimed. “Feels worse than ten thousand needles jabbing
through it.”

“Don’t worry,” answered Dave kindly. “We can carry you just as well as
not, can’t we, Phil?”

“Of course we can!” was the quick reply. “It will take us a little
longer to reach the others, but what of that?”

“Dave, I hope you get your watch back. I know you’d hate to lose it,”
said Roger, as the others prepared to pick him up once more.

“Oh, I’m almost certain I know where I dropped it,” was the young
sergeant’s reply.

The booming of the heavy artillery in the distance had ceased, but now
came another crash off to the southward.

“That’s thunder!” exclaimed Phil. “Looks to me as if that storm might
be coming back.”

“It certainly did let down while it was at it,” remarked Roger. “I
didn’t have to crawl down to the brook to soak that bandage for my
ankle. All I had to do was to draw it over the bushes and grass around
me and it got soaked in a minute.”

The veering of the wind once again made the atmosphere pure around
them, and for this, as they drank in the fresh air, they were
exceedingly thankful.

“I’ll tell you one thing--fresh air is like fresh water,” remarked
Phil. “You don’t know how good both of them are until you can’t get
them.”

“I can tell you I felt pretty bad down there in the gully all alone,”
returned Roger. “Once or twice I tried to crawl out, but the pain in
that ankle was so terrific it was too much for me. I was afraid that
I might faint, and then if my mask got loose in any way it would have
been all up with me.”

As they advanced Dave told of finding the pile of three-inch shells
hidden in the brushwood. Roger was as much interested as Phil had been.

“Do you suppose they were put there lately, Dave?” questioned the
corporal.

“I don’t believe so, Roger. I think they date back to some other
time--probably some time before we were on or near this front. You know
this part of France had been under fire for many months.”

The sky was growing dark again, and now came a flash of lightning at
a distance, followed by a rumble of thunder. Then came more rain and
several other lightning flashes, each one a little nearer than those
before.

“We’re in for it, all right enough,” was Phil’s comment. “I wish we
were back in the shelter of the cliff.”

“How far is that from here?” questioned Roger.

“At least a quarter of a mile,” answered Dave.

With the storm coming on again the wood grew rapidly darker, so that it
was with difficulty that the young engineers picked their way through
the tangle of brushwood and around the rocks and fallen trees. It was
now raining steadily, and before long all were wet to the skin.

“It’s too bad I took you so far out of the way, Phil,” remarked Dave.
“I suppose we might have gone on direct to the shelter of the cliff,
and I could have come back to look for that watch some time later.”

“Oh, that’s all right, Dave,” was the quick reply. “We would have got
wet anyhow. I want you to get your watch back first of all. It won’t do
the timepiece any good to be lying out there in the wet.”

The three young engineers were still about a hundred yards away from
the hidden shells when the storm seemed to burst directly over their
heads with tremendous fury. There was a vivid flash of lightning,
followed by a loud crack of thunder, and then off to their left they
heard one of the big trees of the forest come down with a crash,
carrying some small growth with it.

“Wow! that was some crack, believe me!” exclaimed Phil, after it was
over.

“We can be mighty thankful we weren’t under that tree that was struck,”
said Roger.

“It certainly is a heavy storm,” put in Dave; “and it seems to be
growing worse every minute. Just look how dark it is becoming.”

“I hope it doesn’t get so dark you can’t see to find your watch,” said
Phil.

[Illustration: IMMEDIATELY AFTERWARD CAME A TREMENDOUS EXPLOSION.--_Page
29._]

The lightning and thunder had brought them to a temporary halt, but now
they started to go forward again, the flash of lightning having left
them in a darkness which was almost absolute.

“Be careful you don’t go down in some hole, Dave,” cried Phil, for the
young sergeant was in advance, carrying Roger by the knees, while Phil
in the rear supported their chum under his arms.

The words had scarcely been spoken when there came another jagged flash
of lightning from the sky almost directly, so it seemed, in front of
the young engineers. They saw the fork of electricity shoot down into
the very midst of the spot where the German shells lay hidden. The
flash of lightning was followed by a crack of thunder, and then almost
immediately afterward came a tremendous explosion from the pile of
shells as a number of them seemed to go off simultaneously.

There was an awful flash of fire, and then Dave and the others were
hurled backward in a heap among the bushes and trees.




CHAPTER IV

LETTERS


For fully a minute after the tremendous explosion there was silence,
broken only by the falling rain. Then came two minor explosions, one
directly after the other.

The three young engineers had been hurled into a thick mass of
brushwood, backed up by several saplings. The brushwood had fortunately
acted as a sort of cushion for their bodies, otherwise one or more of
them must have been seriously injured. Even as it was, Dave had the
wind taken out of him and had his left ear scratched by a branch.

When our hero managed to scramble to his feet following the third
explosion, he saw that Phil was wedged in between two of the saplings.
Roger lay face downward, with both hands up to protect his head.

“How is it, boys, either of you hurt?” demanded the young sergeant, as
soon as he could speak.

“I--I--don’t exactly kn--know,” stammered Phil slowly. “Any m--more
explosions coming?” he continued apprehensively.

“I’m sure I don’t know.” Dave gazed at Roger, who was now turning over
and sitting up. “How about you?”

“It didn’t do my hurt ankle much good,” responded the senator’s son.
“But I guess we can all be thankful we weren’t blown to bits.”

“Or struck by the lightning,” added Dave. “And either of those things
might have happened had we been where I think I dropped the watch.”

All three had by this time scrambled to their feet out of the
brushwood, and now they lost no time in hurrying from the scene, Roger
resting an arm over the shoulder of each of his chums and hopping along
on his good foot. And it was well that they did this, for presently
came another loud explosion, followed by several others.

“We got out just in time,” observed Phil, with a grave shake of his
head.

“I don’t understand what made those last shells go off,” remarked Dave.
“Certainly that lightning couldn’t have done it.”

“Maybe the dumps are connected with some mine,” put in Roger quickly.
“I wouldn’t put it past the Germans to play some trick like that. It’s
been done before.”

He referred to an incident which had come to light just about the time
the American Expeditionary Force had arrived in that neighborhood.
Some German shells had been found located in a spot near a roadway.
When the newly-arrived soldiers had started to pick some of the shells
up they had disturbed some wires connected with a mine and there had
been a loud explosion in the roadway. Fortunately, at that time no
artillery or motor-lorries were passing that particular spot, so that
comparatively small damage had been done.

“Maybe the mine was located on that old wood trail we saw,” said Phil.
“They might have figured out that the Americans would use that trail in
coming this way.”

“I guess it’s good-bye to that watch,” remarked Dave. “If it was
anywhere near the ammunition dump those explosions must have smashed it
completely.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” answered Phil. “It may have fallen down
in some hole or between some rocks and been well protected. Just the
same, I don’t think I would go near the place yet. There may be more
explosions to come.”

“I don’t intend to go near it,” answered Dave. “We’ll get back to the
cliff and see what the other fellows are doing. If they are still
there, these explosions will make them wonder what is happening.”

But even though he spoke thus lightly, the young sergeant felt the loss
of the fine wrist-watch keenly. As said before, it had been a present
from the folks at home, and was quite valuable.

“I should have been more careful about it,” he told himself rather
bitterly. “I certainly was careless.”

The lightning and thunder now seemed to shift to the westward, but the
rain continued to come down almost as heavily as before. Roger hopped
along for quite a distance, but then intimated that he would have to
rest.

“We’ll carry you as we did before, Roger,” said Dave. “It isn’t very
far to the cliff from here.”

“I don’t see why I had to have such rotten luck trying to cross the
gully,” remarked the injured one dolefully. “I suppose this will send
me to the hospital for a few days at least, and I don’t want to go. I
want to be in the thick of what is doing.”

“I think we’ll all have to rest up a bit, Roger, if this storm keeps
on,” announced Dave. “The fact is, I don’t think the plans for the next
advance are quite worked out yet,” he continued.

Presently the three came in sight of the cliff, and a few minutes later
were down in the hollow where Dave and Phil had left the others. A
shout went up from Ben and Shadow at their appearance.

“Hello! so you found him, did you?” cried Shadow. “That’s fine!”

“What’s the matter with your foot, Roger?” demanded Ben.

“Oh, I twisted my ankle a bit between the rocks.”

“Say, there have been some fearful explosions following some flashes
of lightning,” said one of the other engineers. “Do you know anything
about them?”

“We know all about them,” answered Dave. “We were close to them--in
fact, too close for comfort.” And in a few brief words those who had
come in told of what had occurred since Dave and Phil had gone on the
search for their missing comrade.

“Lost your watch, eh, Dave?” said Ben. “That’s too bad! But maybe
you’ll be able to find it after this storm clears away and when you are
sure there won’t be any more explosions at that dump.”

All those left in the shelter of the cliff had donned their gas masks
when told to do so by Phil. But Buster’s mask had not worked very well,
and now the stout lad lay on a pile of brushwood looking anything but
well.

“I guess I swallowed some of the gas, all right enough,” he said in
a somewhat choked voice, while his eyes ran with tears. “You see, I
couldn’t breathe very well, and so I tried to fix it. But I guess I
made it worse.”

“If you got it, Buster, I guess the best thing we can do is to get you
to the hospital as soon as possible,” said Dave quickly. And then he
detailed Ben and Shadow for that work.

In a quarter of an hour the heavy rain ceased, and the entire party set
off for camp through a misty drizzle, which was anything but cheering.
Those who had taken charge of Buster set off in advance, supporting the
heavy young engineer between them. They were followed by the others,
all taking turns in carrying Roger.

“I don’t think that ankle is sprained so very badly after all,”
announced the senator’s son. “And I am not going to the hospital unless
I have to. I can bathe it and wrap it up in liniment, and maybe it will
be all right in the morning.”

“And if it isn’t, Roger, I’ll see to it that you get a day’s rest,”
answered Dave.

On arriving at the engineers’ camp, Dave made his report. Buster’s
condition was immediately investigated, and then an ambulance was
called, into which he was placed and carried to the nearest emergency
hospital.

“The poor fellow may be worse off than we imagine,” said Captain Obray
to Dave. “You remember the fate of poor Williamson?”

“Indeed I do,” answered our hero. Williamson was a somewhat elderly
engineer, hailing from the South. Only a few weeks before he had gone
to the front without his gas mask. As soon as a gas attack came,
Williamson had fled to the rear, hoping to escape the deadly fumes. For
several days he had acted as if nothing had harmed him. But then he had
suddenly been taken with cramps and a feeling of sickness all over, and
he was now in the hospital hovering between life and death.

Once back in camp, Roger lost no time in attending to his injured
ankle, being assisted in this by Ben and Shadow. In the meantime Dave
had to attend to his duties as a sergeant, while Phil went over to
perform his own duties as a corporal, and also those which had been
assigned to the senator’s son.

For three days it rained almost constantly--so much so that it was next
to impossible for the engineers to do any of the work which had been
assigned to them. A large part of that territory in France was rather
low, and the rain caused many pools and some lakes to form. One of
the main roadways was about a foot under water, and many of the lorry
drivers asked jokingly how soon they were going to run boats in that
vicinity. It was almost impossible to move anything, and one battery
which attempted to shift its position got completely stuck in the mud
and had to be left there until the storm let up.

In those days the young engineers had one place to visit which gave
them a great deal of comfort. This was a large Y. M. C. A. hut, which
had been established in that vicinity only a short while before. Here
the boys often gathered in their off time, to write letters, play
games, or listen to the music of a small but sweet-toned phonograph
which had been set up. Those who cared to do so could smoke, and also
obtain chocolate and other sweets, and likewise something hot to drink.

“It’s a mighty fine idea,” was Dave’s comment one evening, after he had
spent two hours at the hut, writing some letters and listening to some
familiar songs reproduced on the phonograph.

“Right you are! And the Y. M. C. A. people and those who are supporting
the movement deserve a great deal of credit for what they have done,”
replied Phil.

“I understand the Knights of Columbus are going to put up a hut some
miles farther down the line,” put in another of the engineers.

“Yes. And the Salvation Army are doing something of the same thing,”
came from still another. “A fellow was telling me the other day that
they were dealing out hot pies and doughnuts right close to the
firing-line. Some work for the lassies, eh?” and he smiled broadly.

During those days Roger’s ankle grew better rapidly. He still limped a
little when he walked, but he could get around, and declared that in a
few days more he would be as well as ever. Concerning Buster, however,
the report was not so encouraging. Evidently he had got more of a
dose of the poisonous gas than he had thought, and he was suffering
considerably.

“It ought to be a lesson to all of us to be very careful to keep our
masks in perfect order,” said Dave.

“It’s a lesson to me, all right enough,” answered Roger. “My mask is in
the best condition now, and you can bet I’m going to see to it that it
is kept that way. I’d rather have a good gas mask in this war than a
good suit of clothes or new shoes.”

“Letters! Letters! Letters!”

It was a welcome cry from the far end of the camp, and immediately
afterward came a rush from all sides, every engineer being more than
anxious to get tidings from the loved ones left behind. There was a
good-natured scramble as a whole sackful of epistles were distributed,
and then the men drifted off in one direction or another to read the
precious communications.

Dave was much disappointed. There was a letter from his Uncle Dunston,
but none from Jessie. He had heard from the girl two weeks before, but
he had hoped that she would send another communication soon. He saw
that Roger had a letter from his sister Laura, and knew that between
Laura’s letter and that from his uncle he would get a good idea of
what was taking place in Crumville. Phil had been made happy by two
letters; one, which evidently had been delayed, being from Belle
Endicott.

The letter from his Uncle Dunston contained several items which were
of considerable interest to our hero. One was to the effect that
the Wensell Munition Company, in which Dave’s father was greatly
interested, was doing more war work than ever before. And another was
that both his father and his uncle had been active in the new Liberty
Loan campaign, and had taken a large block of the bonds and had induced
Mr. Wadsworth to do likewise.

“I knew they would do it,” said Dave to himself. “They are true blue,
every one of them. My! from what Uncle Dunston writes, that Liberty
Loan campaign must have been a red-hot one.”

  “Of course we are all very proud of the fact that you have become a
  sergeant,” wrote Dunston Porter. “If you keep on the way you have
  started some day you may become a lieutenant or a captain, or go even
  higher. You certainly have our best wishes.

  “And that puts me in mind, Dave. You, of course, remember Nat Poole,
  old Aaron Poole’s son, with whom you had so many differences in the
  past. Well, that slacker was finally drafted into the army in spite
  of all old Poole could do to keep him out. They sent him off to Camp
  Hickory; and now I understand he is on his way to France. I hope the
  war will knock some of the conceit out of him.”

“Nat Poole coming to France after all!” Dave murmured to himself as
he read this portion of the letter. “I don’t see how they expect to
make a soldier of him.” He well remembered what a coward Nat Poole had
been and how even at Oak Hall he had often tried to shield himself by
getting behind his cronies.

And then for the time being Dave dismissed Nat Poole from his mind,
never for a moment dreaming of what trouble the coming of this fellow
to France portended.




CHAPTER V

NEWS FROM HOME


Immediately after receiving his letter from Laura, Roger had been
called away to perform some duties as a corporal, consequently it was
not until some time later that Dave met him again. In the meantime the
young sergeant ran across Phil, who was all smiles.

“Everything is going along beautifully with the Endicotts,” announced
the shipowner’s son. “Belle is deep in Red Cross work, and has promised
to send me a fine sweater she is making for the coming winter. Her
mother is in the work, too. Mr. Endicott, of course, has his hands full
with railroad matters, for the road is shipping large quantities of
provisions and war materials, as well as many soldiers. He says they
are also raising an extra large amount of cattle on Star Ranch, because
the packing-houses want all they can get.”

“I’m glad to hear everything is going along so swimmingly,” announced
Dave.

“Did you get a letter from Jessie?”

“I did not--worse luck! But I got a letter from my Uncle Dunston, and
he says they are all well with the exception of poor old Professor
Potts, who seems to be growing quite feeble. He wrote about Nat Poole,
who was drafted, and he says Nat is now on the way to France.”

“You don’t say, Dave! That certainly is news. How angry old Aaron Poole
must have been when they drafted Nat!”

“I suppose that is so, Phil. But I don’t believe Mrs. Poole was angry.
If you’ll remember, she was quite a patriotic woman, and insisted on
doing a lot for the Red Cross in spite of her husband’s objections.”

“Yes, I remember that. Probably she is proud to know her son is in the
army. I’d like to know how Nat takes it.”

“I’m sure I don’t know. I don’t believe he would dare to grumble. The
other fellows would jump on him pretty quick.”

“Perhaps joining the army will make a man of him.”

“I hope so.” Dave shook his head dolefully. “Nat certainly was a
slacker. He didn’t believe in fighting, no matter what the provocation.”

“If he comes to France perhaps we’ll see him, Dave.”

“It’s possible, but not very probable, Phil--with so many hundreds of
thousands coming over. He may not come to this part of the country at
all. You know they are sending some of our men up into Belgium, and
others down into Italy, as well as over here.”

“Did your uncle have anything to say about the Widow Carot and her
children, or that rascally spy, Rudolph Holtzmann?”

“He said that the widow was overjoyed at the recovery of her children,
and they were greatly pleased to think that Holtzmann was going to get
what was coming to him from the French Government. Of course, our claim
against Holtzmann has not yet been settled; but I think that sooner or
later we’ll get that money through the French courts.”

A little later Roger came back, and Dave and some of his other chums
noticed that he looked unusually thoughtful. Dave at once mentioned the
letter from his Uncle Dunston and told what it contained.

“You got some letters too, didn’t you, Roger?” he remarked after he
had finished telling his news and when there had come something of an
awkward pause.

“Yes, I got two; one from my mother and the other from Laura. My
mother says that she and father are well and that father is very deep
in affairs at Washington. These are certainly mighty busy times for
a United States senator.” Roger paused and Dave waited for him to go
on. It was quite usual for the chums to mention what their letters
contained, and often one or another would read a portion of an epistle
which he thought might prove especially interesting.

“Laura also said they were all well at Crumville except Professor
Potts, who is beginning to show his age,” went on the senator’s son.
“She wrote me quite a lot about some entertainments they had been
getting up for the benefit of some local charities which have been
suffering because of the Red Cross and the Y. M. C. A. activities. I
suppose a good many folks think because they give so much to the war
organizations, they can’t afford to give much for local charities,
although local charities have to be kept up just the same.”

And then Roger began to talk about charities in general and from that
branched off to other subjects, including the war and the probable
movements of the engineers. It was evident to Dave and Phil that he was
holding something back, but what it was neither of them could imagine.
Dave hoped with all his heart that no quarrel had arisen between his
sister and the chum he loved so well.

“Roger has got something on his mind--that’s sure,” remarked Phil a
little later, when he and Dave were by themselves.

“So it looks to me, Phil. I hope neither of his letters contained bad
news.”

“If it was anything ordinary I think he would tell us about it,”
continued the shipowner’s son thoughtfully. “It almost looks to me as
if it might concern us as well as Roger.”

“Well, if he doesn’t want to mention it, Phil, I certainly am not going
to ask him about it.”

“Certainly not--it wouldn’t be fair. He has a right to keep it a secret
if he wants to.”

All through the evening, when the young engineers took themselves once
again to the Y. M. C. A. hut, where a well-known vaudeville singer gave
a short entertainment which was highly appreciated, Dave and Phil,
as well as some of the others, noticed how preoccupied in mind Roger
continued to be. He paid hardly any attention to the singing or the
jokes which were told, and seemed to be glad when it was over and he
could return to their quarters and go to bed.

“It must be something pretty serious,” whispered Phil to Dave, as they
retired for the night.

The young corporal was quite surprised when, early in the morning, he
found himself awakened by Roger, who had come over and touched him on
the shoulder.

“As soon as you are dressed, Phil,” whispered his chum, “I want you to
come outside and listen to something I have to tell you. But don’t say
anything to Dave or the others about it. Slip out as quietly as you
can. I don’t want them to think that we’ve anything in secret between
us.” And then before the shipowner’s son could answer, Roger tiptoed
away and commenced to dress rapidly and silently.

A few minutes later found both of the corporals outside of the shelter
which served them for sleeping quarters. Then Roger motioned Phil away,
and they walked quite a distance, to a place where they would be safe
from interruption.

“I want to tell you about that letter I received from Laura yesterday,”
began the senator’s son. “It’s got something in it, Phil, that I don’t
like at all.”

“I hope it isn’t any serious trouble for you, Roger.”

“It isn’t trouble for me, Phil. That is, except in a general way--the
same way it might affect you too. It’s trouble for Dave.”

“Dave! Why, what’s happened? Nobody sick or hurt, I hope?”

“No; it’s nothing like that. Did you ever meet a young fellow by the
name of Max Gebauer?”

Phil thought for a moment. “It seems to me I did. A tall, thin fellow
with blue eyes and light hair. We met him once or twice at the
Wadsworth jewelry works.”

“That’s the chap. His folks have jewelry works of some kind in
Philadelphia, and this Max Gebauer came to Crumville to see Mr.
Wadsworth on business.”

“Well, how does that affect Dave?”

“You just read these few pages from Laura’s letter,” returned
Roger, and handed over the sheets. Laura had been writing of the
entertainments given in Crumville for the benefit of the local
charities, and added the following:

  “And now I have got to write something which is very distasteful to
  me, Roger, for it concerns Jessie and Dave in a way I do not like to
  think about.

  “At the time we were getting up the principal entertainment, that
  young salesman, Max Gebauer, who, as you will remember, is in the
  jewelry business with his father and his uncle in Philadelphia,
  was in Crumville to see Mr. Wadsworth. He is now a lieutenant in
  the army, and looks quite spick and span in his new uniform. Mr.
  Wadsworth was so enthusiastic to think that Gebauer had joined the
  army and was soon going over to France, he invited him to the house
  for dinner.

  “We, of course, did our best to entertain him, and he seemed
  particularly interested in Jessie--so much so that he asked her to
  allow him to do a number of things connected with the entertainment,
  and he likewise purchased ten dollars’ worth of tickets from
  her, which, of course, pleased her a good deal. Then, when the
  entertainment came off, he presented her with a beautiful bouquet of
  American Beauty roses, and later still gave her a very handsome Red
  Cross emblem, which, it seems, their firm has something to do with
  manufacturing. He gave the pin to Mr. Wadsworth to give to Jessie,
  so that she had no chance to refuse it even if she wanted to.

  “Since that time he has been to Crumville three times, and on each
  occasion managed to call on Jessie. Once while he was out in an
  automobile he met her on the outskirts of the town, where she had
  been visiting one of our poor families, and insisted on taking her
  for a ride.

  “Now, I don’t think Jessie intends to do anything that is mean,
  but Gebauer is well educated, and can make himself very pleasing
  when he tries, and he has certainly done everything in his power to
  attract her. She, of course, feels flattered at the attentions of an
  army officer, and I know some of the other girls in Crumville are
  beginning to envy her just a little and some are talking about her.

  “Now, I suppose, Roger, you will wonder at once why I have not had a
  straight talk with Jessie and why I haven’t told her exactly what I
  think of all this. Well, to do that is not easy with such a girl as
  she is. As an only child she has been very much petted and allowed
  to have her own way, and she often sees no wrong at all in things
  which I sometimes think might be different. I did mention once, in an
  offhand way, that I thought Gebauer was growing too attentive, but
  she merely laughed and tossed her head and told me there was nothing
  I needed to worry about. And then she told me, a while later, she
  didn’t understand why Dave didn’t write oftener--that she had not had
  a letter from him for two weeks.

  “All of this makes me greatly worried, but I do not know what to do.
  Once or twice I have thought of speaking to Mrs. Wadsworth, but I am
  afraid that might only make matters worse. She doesn’t seem to notice
  how attentive Gebauer has become or notice how some folks are talking
  about Jessie. I wish the lieutenant would get orders to leave for
  France at once.”

Phil read the sheets through twice before he handed them back to Roger.
Then the chums looked at each other thoughtfully. Roger was the first
to break the silence.

“Do you wonder I was worried after I read that?” he demanded.

“It certainly is fierce!” was Phil’s comment. “But, Roger, you don’t
suppose for a minute that Jessie would go back on Dave?”

“I don’t see how it could be possible--unless the sight of the
lieutenant in his uniform has completely turned Jessie’s head.”

“But Jessie’s too sensible for anything like that, isn’t she?”

“I should hope so, Phil. But you never can tell. You know there are
lots of girls who for some reason or other don’t seem to be able to
resist a uniform. Even the cook feels flattered by the fireman or the
policeman.”

“Yes; but Dave’s in uniform, and he’s a sergeant.”

“True. But he is over three thousand miles away, while this Gebauer is
right on the spot. I wish, as Laura says, that Gebauer would get his
orders to leave at once.”

“Yes, that’s the best thing that could happen.”

“I don’t know whether to mention this to Dave or not,” went on Roger,
after a pause. “I don’t want to worry him needlessly, and at the same
time I think he ought to know what is going on at home.”

“I know he has been writing to Jessie regularly. I saw him send off the
letters myself.”

“I know that, too. It must be the fault of the post-office that she
doesn’t get them.”

“He didn’t get any letter this time from Jessie, and that I am afraid
is making him feel quite blue. He heard from his Uncle Dunston, and
that’s all.”

The two talked the matter over for several minutes more, and then
reached the conclusion that it might be as well to remain silent on
the subject for at least several days longer, trusting that during
that period a letter might come from Jessie which would clear up the
situation.

During the past few days the ammunition dump which Dave had discovered,
and part of which had been blown up, had been subject to an
investigation by those in authority. Several hundred shells were found
unexploded, and these were taken to a safe place and stored away. It
was learned that a mine had been placed on the old trail through the
wood, and this had gone up, doing, however, no further damage than to
uproot some trees and brushwood.

Dave received permission to visit the spot and did so in company with
Phil and Ben, Roger remaining behind to favor his hurt ankle, which
still pained him a little.

The young sergeant was, of course, anxious to find his lost
wrist-watch, and a search was instituted which lasted the best part of
half a day. But it was of no avail--the timepiece could not be located.

“I guess it’s of no use--we might as well give it up,” said Dave at
last. “Come on, we’ll go back to camp.”

And this they did. The young sergeant felt decidedly blue, and he had
two things to make him feel so: the loss of the watch and the fact that
he had not heard from Jessie for some time.




CHAPTER VI

A BATTLE IN THE AIR


“Phew, but this is hot!”

“I guess we’re going to pay up for that wet weather we had.”

“I wonder how many more miles we’ve got to hike over this road?”

“No less than three, so the top sergeant told me,” answered Dave, to
whom the question was put.

It was about a week after the events narrated in the last chapter, and
the fighting engineers, as they were familiarly called, were once more
forging toward the battle front. The storms of the past three weeks had
cleared away, and the hot summer sun beat down upon them with all its
intensity.

During the time spent in camp Roger had recovered from the injury to
his ankle and was now around as before. He had had another conversation
with Phil regarding the letter received from Laura, and both had again
decided not to say anything to Dave concerning Max Gebauer. But they
had spoken to Dave in a casual way about his not receiving a letter
from Jessie and had said that possibly she was not getting the letters
he had forwarded.

“Well, I can’t do anything more than write and mail the letters,” had
been the young sergeant’s reply to this. Nevertheless, his chums had
noticed with satisfaction that he wrote another letter to Jessie that
very evening and was particular to see that it was properly addressed
and taken care of.

In the meantime Roger had forwarded his reply to Dave’s sister, and in
that communication he told Laura he hoped she would keep her eyes on
Jessie and see that Gebauer did not have a chance to become intimate
with the girl. He also asked Dave’s sister to send him word if anything
out of the ordinary occurred.

The engineers were moving along with their full equipment on their
backs. Behind them came a string of motor-lorries, carrying great
quantities of tools, and also some explosives.

By nightfall they had reached a spot not far from the fighting front.
They had turned off from the main road and were now passing through a
small French hamlet, beyond which was a small hill hedged in on all
sides by a thick forest.

“Orders are to clear a road around one side of this hill, and do it as
quickly as possible,” announced Captain Obray. “We’ll have to blast
out some of the rocks and cut down a number of trees, I am afraid.”

The work was started early in the morning, after a night which was
not altogether a comfortable one. There was a rumor throughout the
camp that the Germans might make a raid over No Man’s Land, probably
with the idea of obtaining some prisoners from whom they could obtain
much-desired information. Consequently the engineers were all more or
less on their guard.

“I’m sure I don’t want to become a German prisoner,” remarked Ben.
“From what I’ve heard, they don’t treat their prisoners very well.”

“Well!” cried Phil. “They treat ’em the meanest ever!”

“Say, that puts me in mind of a story I heard the other day,” said
Shadow. “Oh, this is true!” he added hastily, when he saw several of
the others shake their heads. “A tall, lanky Western doughboy was at
the front on duty at night when he heard somebody approaching. He
immediately called to the fellow to halt. Then he discovered that
the fellow was walking with both hands high in the air and muttering
something to himself. The fellow kept coming on until he was right at
the end of the doughboy’s bayonet. Then the doughboy gave him a little
jab, and the fellow set up a scream and suddenly opened his eyes. He
was a German soldier and a sleep-walker. Of course, the doughboy made
him a prisoner without delay.”

“Wow! what do you think of that?” cried Ben.

“Say, Shadow, you be careful that you don’t do any sleep-walking
yourself, like you did at Oak Hall,” broke in Phil. “You don’t want to
go over No Man’s Land and get on the ridge-pole of some schoolhouse,
like you did when we were at the Hall,” he continued, referring to an
incident the particulars of which were given in “Dave Porter and His
Classmates.”

“I’ve given up walking in my sleep. It doesn’t pay,” returned the
story-teller quickly.

“Talking about the sleep-walker giving himself up,” put in Dave, “I
heard a pretty good story the other day about a German who met one of
our men at the edge of the wood. He showed a white handkerchief--or
at least a handkerchief that had once been white--and then came over
to talk to the sentry. He said he had once been in Chicago and liked
our country first rate, and he was willing to surrender, provided the
sentry would let him go back and get his brother and his cousin, so
that they could all keep together and not feel lonely.”

“And did the sentry do it?” queried Roger.

“Yes, after he had taken away the fellow’s gun and helmet. The young
German was gone about a quarter of an hour, and then came back followed
by four others. They were his cousin and his brother, and two friends
who had likewise concluded to give themselves up. You can imagine how
proud that doughboy was to march that gang of five prisoners into camp.”

For three days the engineering unit to which our friends belonged,
aided by another unit from the East and two from the Middle West,
toiled at the task which had been assigned to them. Here and there the
rocks barred their passage, and these were blasted out as the easiest
means of getting rid of them. Not a few tall trees were chopped down,
and over two hundred of the engineers were set to work clearing away
the brushwood. In the meantime another unit of engineers worked on
a path leading to the top of the hill, and a little later a masked
battery was stationed there, ready to open fire on the German lines
northeast of that vicinity.

It must not be surmised that the work the engineers had to do was
without peril. Even though the spot was deep in the woods and somewhat
isolated, not a few German shells of large caliber were sent in that
direction.

“Confound it! those shells are coming too close for comfort,” remarked
Phil, one afternoon, when a projectile had gone whining over their
heads to fall less than a hundred yards behind them.

So far they had not seen any airplanes in that vicinity, but on the
following morning early they espied two German scout-planes high in the
air circling slowly about.

“I suppose they suspected something was going on around here and they
have sent out those machines to make sure,” remarked Frank Andrews to
our hero. “I wish our own airmen would get after them.”

His wish was soon gratified. Looking in the direction where they knew
the American aviation camp was stationed, the engineers presently saw
four of the planes taking the flight upward. They came on straight for
the spot where the engineers were working, and those below made up
their minds that a battle in the air was imminent.

“Gee, I hope our men get those fellows!” cried Roger. “It will serve
’em right for coming here to spy on us.”

As the four American aviators advanced they spread out, two keeping
somewhat to the rear while the third headed northward and the fourth
southward. Thus they soon formed a sort of semicircle around the German
planes.

By this time the enemy airmen had probably made all the observations
they wished or that they felt capable of making, and they turned back,
evidently with the intention of passing over their own lines.

“If only we had an anti-aircraft gun here and could take a few shots at
them!” sighed Dave.

The American fliers were still somewhat to the rear, but when they saw
the two enemy scout-planes trying to escape they opened fire on them.
Even at that distance the flashes from the guns could be seen, although
if there were any sounds they were lost in the explosions of the motors
and the distant firing of artillery.

The contest in the air now grew so exciting that nearly all the
engineers stopped work to witness it. One of the American airmen could
evidently get no speed out of his machine, and soon he fell behind. But
the other three kept on, and one of them presently came close to one
of the enemy planes. Then came a sudden flash of fire, and the German
plane was seen to crumple up and come down, a mile or more beyond the
edge of the forest.

“Hurrah! they’ve got one of them anyhow,” exclaimed Ben.

“And now for the other!” added Shadow.

The flight of the other plane continued, but soon it was evident the
German felt he could not escape by straight flying. He suddenly made
a dive to the northward, and then began to mount higher and higher,
circling and twisting first in one direction and then in another. The
three Americans went after him as quickly as they could, firing their
machine-guns whenever it seemed advantageous to do so. The American
airmen had, of course, to be careful so that they might not fire into
each other.

“That’s a battle royal, all right enough,” was Dave’s comment, as the
contest kept up as vigorously as ever. “If that German escapes he’ll
certainly have won his liberty.”

The fourth American plane had now dropped back still further, and soon
it began to head for the aviation camp, suffering probably from engine
or other trouble. Then one of the other planes began to move away. A
minute later its motor began to miss fire, and then stopped completely.

“See, he’s out of it!” cried Roger. “He’s going to volplane to the
ground.”

“He’ll be lucky if he reaches the ground without breaking his neck,”
announced Phil. And he was right; the second American had all he could
do to bring his machine down in safety beyond the big trees of the
forest.

With but two of the Americans left in the fight, the German airman
seemed to pluck up courage. He did not attempt to do any firing, but
made a new turn or two, and then started away, as if to try once more
for the German lines.

But now he reckoned without the cleverness of one of the American
airmen. This fellow put on a sudden burst of speed and, like a bird on
the wing, he came directly behind the German. His machine-gun began to
spit spitefully, and a moment later those on the ground far below saw a
portion of the German plane drop away from the machine proper.

“Hello, there goes his rudder!” cried Captain Obray, who was looking
through his field glasses. “The whole steering apparatus has been shot
away! Now I reckon he’s about done for.”

That was indeed the plight of the German airman, for with the rudder
gone, he was practically helpless to guide his machine. His motor
stopped--whether he turned it off or it stopped of itself they could
not tell--and then the scout machine began to turn and twist in a
fantastic course down from the sky.

“That’s the end of that flying man,” was Ben’s comment.

“I wonder if he’s doing anything at all to save himself?” said Dave.

“I don’t see what he can do,” returned Roger.

This way and that way rushed the helpless war-plane. As it came down
it made several turns, and then headed suddenly toward the forest where
the engineers were working.

“It’s coming down pretty close to this spot!” exclaimed Dave.

“Take care of yourselves, men!” cried Captain Obray. “Don’t give that
plane a chance to hit you!” He had not forgotten the accident which had
happened to Roger, Phil and Dave when a plane had come down in flames,
as related in our last volume.

All of the engineers were on the alert. But this caution was
unnecessary. Another dart or two through the sky, and then the enemy
airplane finally came down at a point in the forest some distance away.
As it did this it burst into flames, and soon those on the ground saw a
heavy smoke coming up from the spot where it was burning up.

“I wonder if the fellow who was running it escaped?” cried Phil.

“Let us go and see,” returned Dave; and, having received the necessary
permission, the young sergeant hurried off through the forest toward
the burning airplane, taking a detail of eight young engineers with
him.




CHAPTER VII

THE GERMAN AVIATOR


The smoke from the burning airplane was plainly visible over the tops
of the trees, so that Dave and the detail of engineers under him had no
difficulty in heading in the right direction.

But to get through that tangle of underbrush and over the jagged rocks
was not easy, and consequently their progress was rather slow, even
though they pushed along as vigorously as circumstances permitted.

“If that airman came down in his burning plane he has probably been
burned up,” remarked Phil, as they hurried along.

“I hope not,” returned Dave. “I hope he escaped and we have the honor
of capturing him.”

“It’s too bad the plane caught fire,” put in Roger. He knew that the
rival air forces liked very much to capture an enemy plane intact, or
nearly so. On such a plane they would often find maps and instruments,
not to say anything of machine-guns.

At last they came in sight of the burning plane, which still blazed
forth fiercely. It was caught in the branches of a low tree. Its
gasoline tanks had burst and the inflammable fluid had run down over
the tree trunk making of it a great torch.

As the engineers reached a little opening to one side of where the
scout-plane and the tree were blazing fiercely, they heard a shrill cry
in German for help.

“Look! Look!” burst from Phil’s lips, and he pointed with his hand as
he spoke.

All gazed in the direction indicated and saw something which filled
them with horror. Caught in a fork of one of the limbs of the tree was
the German aviator. His jacket had become fastened on the branch, and
he was trying vainly to extricate himself from his perilous position.
The flames were already within three feet of him, and the back of his
heavy fur jacket was singed and smoking.

“He’ll be burned up as sure as fate!” cried Ben.

“He will be unless we can save him,” returned Dave.

“I don’t see how you are going to do it, Dave,” remarked Shadow. “How
are you going to reach him?”

The helpless airman was at least twenty feet from the ground. All he
could do was to twist himself in his perilous position, but to get
free from the limb seemed impossible.

“Gee! he doesn’t seem to make much of an effort to free himself,”
observed one of the other engineers. He did not realize the truth of
the situation, which was that the apparently helpless man was suffering
from a broken arm and a dislocated shoulder.

The gasoline from the broken tanks had flowed over the brushwood at
the foot of the tree, and this was now causing the flames to mount
up directly under the German. This being the case, even had he freed
himself he would have dropped into the fire.

Dave was the first to act. His quick eye had noted a tall tree standing
five or six yards away, and he made for this without delay.

“Boost me up, you fellows, and be quick about it; and then some of you
follow me,” he ordered.

Roger and Phil helped him to mount into the tree, and then the two of
them, aided by the other engineers, came up also. By this time Dave had
selected the limb he wished to utilize, and he crawled slowly out on
this, testing its strength as he progressed.

“It’s plenty strong enough to hold all of us,” he announced to his two
chums. “Come on out. I want it to bend down as much as possible.”

By this time the others understood the scheme which had entered our
hero’s head. The tall tree was a wide-spreading one, and the branch
he had selected bent over in the direction of the tree which was on
fire. Soon the combined weight of the three engineers caused it to bend
until the outer end was directly over the spot where the German aviator
rested.

“Now you fellows get back a little and I’ll go forward,” said Dave.
“As soon as I’ve got hold of him you go back farther yet, so that the
weight of the four of us won’t crack the branch off.”

Phil and Roger understood, and as Dave went forward they retreated just
enough so that the outer end of the branch might remain in practically
the same position.

It was a perilous climb for the young sergeant, and no one realized
this more than himself. Being directly over the branch where the German
rested, he was likewise over that portion of the brushwood below which
was on fire. The smoke was coming up thickly, choking and blinding him.

At last he was out to within three feet of the end of the limb. He had
his legs around it firmly, and now he bent down and by teetering the
limb just a trifle managed to get within distance of the fellow below.

The German aviator had continued to call for help in his own language.
Now, as Dave drew closer, he heard the talk of the Americans and cried
out in broken English:

“You safe me, blease! You safe me, blease!”

“I’ll do it if I can, Fritzie,” answered Dave. “Give me your hand.”

“I gif vun hand! Other arm broken!” gasped out the hurt airman.

As well as he was able, he put out his uninjured arm, and Dave grasped
it. Then, holding tight with his legs, the young sergeant succeeded in
raising the fellow from his position in the crotch of the branch which
had now taken fire. He had to pull with considerable force to get the
fellow free from his entanglement.

“Look out, Dave, or you’ll both fall!” warned Phil.

“I’ve got him, but I don’t just see how I’m going to get him down from
the tree,” announced our hero.

The smoke was now coming up so thickly that he was almost blinded, and
both he and the hurt aviator began coughing.

“Swing him around so that we can get hold of him,” suggested Roger.

[Illustration: AS WELL AS HE WAS ABLE, HE PUT OUT HIS UNINJURED ARM AND
DAVE GRASPED IT.--_Page 66._]

With great care Dave shifted his position, and then worked his way
backward about a foot along the limb. Here he felt a little more
secure, and then swung the hurt man around until Phil and Roger
could get hold of him. The German uttered several moans of pain and
then collapsed into insensibility.

“Be careful how you handle him, fellows,” said Dave, when he and his
chums had the airman safe between them. “He said his arm was broken.”

“He can be thankful he didn’t break his neck with such a tumble as
that,” returned Roger.

One of the engineers on the ground below had a strong rope with him,
and this was thrown over the limb of the tree. A noose was placed
around the German’s body, and then he was slowly and carefully lowered
to the ground, after which Dave and the others descended from the tree.

While the rescue was taking place three of the engineers had gone
around to the other side of the blaze, trying to get at the burning
plane. They had managed with long sticks to poke a few things away from
the fusilage, but these proved to be of but little importance and were
carried off by all of the crowd merely as souvenirs.

The German was still insensible, and it was not until he had been
carried to a safe distance and the engineers had dashed some water
into his face that he recovered and opened his eyes. In the meantime,
five of the men were detailed to watch the fire and see to it that it
burned itself out without starting a general conflagration through the
forest.

“We don’t want these woods burned up just yet,” was the way Dave
expressed himself. “We need the trees to screen our operations in this
vicinity.”

The prisoner proved to be a man not over twenty-five years of age.
That he was well educated was evident. Like most aviators, he was of
slight build, and he had light hair and gray eyes. He gave his name as
Heinrich Eberhardt, and told the aviation unit to which he belonged.

“I am very thankful to you for having saved my life,” he said, in his
broken English, to Dave and the others. “If you had not come to my aid,
I would have been burned up,” and he shuddered.

“I’d hate to see anybody burned alive,” returned Dave. Then he
questioned the aviator about himself and learned that the fellow had
leaped from the burning scout-plane while he was yet a hundred feet or
more above the tree.

“Had I not done that I would have been burned alive in mid-air,”
continued Heinrich Eberhardt, in his broken English. “Such things often
happen. One of my best friends was burned up that way last year.”

As the hurt aviator was in no condition to walk, word was sent back
to the camp of the engineers, and a little later hospital men came
after him with a stretcher. This, however, took some time, and in the
meanwhile Dave had an opportunity to ask the fellow some questions,
being glad to know that the man could speak English, even though
brokenly.

“I and my twin brother, Fritz, are alone in the world,” said Heinrich
Eberhardt. “Both of our parents died when we were small boys, and we
were brought up by an uncle who had spent a few years in America and
England. He could speak English very well indeed, and he insisted upon
it that we learn something of the language, stating that it would be
good for us in business. But neither my brother Fritz nor I cared to
study any too well, so we didn’t learn any more than we had to,” and
Heinrich Eberhardt smiled faintly. Dave and the others had rendered him
what first aid they could, and made him as comfortable as possible on a
pile of brushwood. He was, of course, suffering much pain, but he was
too plucky to complain.

“Well, what do you think of the war?” questioned Roger.

“I think it’s a bad affair--a very bad affair indeed, especially for
the English and the Americans,” answered the German aviator readily.

“Then you still think Germany will win?” put in Phil.

“To be sure. Why not?” returned the German in his broken English.
“No combination of nations can master the _Vaterland_. It cannot be
done. We are too strong for them. We have too much system and too much
science.”

“But what do you think of the American army?” questioned Dave.

At this Heinrich Eberhardt pursed up his lips and was silent for a
moment.

“You have been very good to me, so why should I say anything against
you?” he answered finally. “But if you must know the truth, let me say
I think you can do little or nothing in this war. You are too far away.
Your President may send a few hundred thousand men over here, but that
will count for nothing.”

“Don’t you know we have over a million men in France already?” demanded
Phil.

“A million? Oh, no, nothing like that! You couldn’t possibly get them
here. Our U-boats would stop your troopships and sink them. At the
most, you may get over a few hundred thousand. But I doubt very much if
it will be that many.”

“Some day you’ll have your eyes opened to the truth of what is going
on,” said Dave. “But now you had better keep quiet. I have sent for
the stretcher-bearers, and I think they’ll get here before long, and
then they’ll carry you to the hospital, where you will get proper
treatment.”

“Could you send word back that I am alive?” asked the hurt man eagerly.

“I guess that can be arranged through the Allied airmen,” answered
Dave. He knew that there was an unwritten law among all the fliers of
the various nations that word concerning any airman who was killed,
injured, or captured, should be carried over the enemies’ lines by
means of a note dropped from some flying machine.

“If that is done I shall be very, very grateful,” said Heinrich
Eberhardt. “I want my brother Fritz to know that I am alive.”

Presently the stretcher-bearers came into view, and Dave saw to it
personally that the captured German received proper attention. Then the
aviator was taken away.

“Not a half bad sort,” was Roger’s comment, when he and the others were
making their way back to the engineering camp.

“They’ve all got the same idea regarding the United States,” answered
Dave. “They think it’s impossible for Uncle Sam to get a big army over
here. They won’t believe the story that we already have over a million
men in the field.”

“And another million or two on the way,” added Phil.

“Well, it’s a tremendous undertaking,” broke in Ben. “Think of sending
so many men as that on a sea voyage of three thousand miles, and then
taking care of them after they arrive!”

“It is a big undertaking,” said Shadow. “And it’s no wonder that it
takes billions of dollars to do it.”

“It must be exciting to be an army aviator,” continued Dave. “Far more
exciting than being just an engineer.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” answered Roger. “Of course, some of the
airmen--especially those who get to be aces--have plenty of things
happen to them. But I was talking to one of the French aviators not
long ago--one who has been in the service since the war started--and he
said all he had been able to do was to go up and take observations and
report. There couldn’t be anything very exciting about that.”

“Oh, we’ve had excitement enough--no doubt of that,” returned Dave.
“And it looks to me as if there was a good deal more excitement ahead.”

“Right you are, Dave!” cried Roger. “I’ll wager before we know it we’ll
be in the very thick of it.”




CHAPTER VIII

THE PERILS OF ROAD BUILDING


“We’ve got it hot enough now, Dave.”

“I agree with you, Roger. The Huns are certainly bombarding us for
fair.”

“Did you see that tree come down a few minutes ago?” asked Phil. “It
landed within a dozen feet of Captain Obray and Frank Andrews.”

“The German air scouts--those three fellows who sailed this way
yesterday afternoon--must have sent in word of where we were located
and what we were doing,” continued Dave. “It’s too bad our men didn’t
get a chance to bring them down as they did those others.”

“I wonder what they did with that Heinrich Eberhardt?” broke in Shadow,
who was working in the gang with the others.

“He is in the hospital, and I heard yesterday that he is doing very
well,” answered Dave.

“I wish we were sure poor Buster was going to get over that gas
attack,” went on the former story-teller of Oak Hall. “Gee! it’s a
shame that he was knocked out that way.”

“As soon as I can get off I’m going to take a run back to the hospital
and see how Buster is making it,” said Dave. “I think I’m entitled to a
leave of absence; I haven’t been off since last winter.”

“If you do get off, I’ll try to get off at the same time,” cried Roger
quickly.

“And so will I,” added Phil.

Ten days had passed since the spectacular rescue of the Hun aviator
from the burning plane and tree, and during that time the fighting
engineers had well deserved the appellation applied to them. They had
advanced their road through the forest for a considerable distance, and
had had two brushes with the enemy, one a night raid which had come
most unexpectedly; but the blood of the engineers had been up, and
they had beaten the Germans back with the loss of but two men slightly
wounded, while three of the enemy had been killed and one taken
prisoner.

They had also been under artillery fire on more than one occasion, and
now this artillery fire was again directed toward them.

“If those Germans were only a little better marksmen there wouldn’t be
anything left of us, I imagine,” remarked Phil a little later, after a
shell had gone whining over their heads, to explode among some roots in
the rear.

“I don’t believe it’s altogether a case of their marksmanship,”
returned Dave. “I had a talk with Captain Obray one day, and he said
information had come in that the German ammunition was steadily
deteriorating, due I suppose, to the fact that they can’t get hold of
the metal and chemicals they would like to use.”

The young engineers had been working on a small exposed length of the
roadway, but now came orders to advance to a point where they would be
sheltered in part by a series of rocks and heavy trees.

Suddenly came a sound from their rear which gave them intense
satisfaction. During the past week the road up the little hill behind
them had been completed, and an American battery had been located
there. This battery now opened with vigor, sending toward the German
lines at least four shells for every one coming the other way.

“That will teach the Heinies a lesson,” remarked Phil grimly. “I
hope some of our shells reach their batteries and put them out of
commission.”

“I guess we all hope that, Phil,” returned Dave.

The bombardment from both sides increased in intensity as the day
advanced. And it must be admitted that all of the engineers worked
under a tremendous nervous strain, not knowing at what instant a shell
might explode among them, causing much destruction.

“No use in talking, Dave, we are taking our lives in our hands here, in
spite of the protection of the rocks and trees,” remarked Roger.

He had scarcely uttered the words when a shell came over the trees in
front of them, to hit the rocks a short distance to their left. It
exploded with tremendous force, scattering pieces of shrapnel, bits of
wood, loose stones, and chunks of dirt in all directions.

Dave was hit in the chin by a small stone, and a stick of wood caught
him directly across the stomach, doubling him up for the time being.
Roger and some of the others were also struck, while Ben received a
shower of dirt in his eyes which almost blinded him.

“Great Cæsar!” exclaimed Phil, after the excitement attending the
explosion had somewhat subsided. “That’s getting almost too close for
comfort.”

“Anybody seriously injured?” questioned the young sergeant, as he wiped
a little blood from his chin and put his hand down on his stomach,
which felt sore from the blow.

“I’ve got about a pound of dirt in my eyes,” answered Ben, as he
started to wipe his optics with a corner of his handkerchief.

No one had been seriously injured, for which all were thankful, but
there were numerous small cuts and bruises, and the engineers retired
closer to the shelter of the rocks to catch their breath and attend to
their hurts.

“What damage did that shell do?” demanded Captain Obray, as he came up
on the double-quick, for he had been with a gang some distance away.

Dave made his report, and the captain looked the men over.

“You’ve got to keep your eyes and ears open for those shells,” said the
officer. “If you think they are coming anywhere near you, don’t wait,
but throw yourselves flat on your face. By doing that you may save your
life.”

A little later the engineers were out on the roadway working as
industriously as ever. Only one man remained behind, he having fallen
over some rough rocks and bruised his elbows.

It was almost nightfall, and the bombardment seemed to be slowing
up, when Dave found himself with the gang under him at a turn in the
roadway which was being constructed. Here on one side were several
walls of rocks, while on the other the roadway was lined with a series
of heavy trees backed up in some places by thick brushwood.

“Almost time to knock off, isn’t it?” said Ben. He had put in an
unusually big day, and his back ached.

“We’ll knock off in about an hour, Ben,” answered Dave. “Pretty heavy
work, isn’t it?”

“I never thought I’d work as hard as this in my whole life, Dave,”
answered the son of the leading real estate dealer of Crumville. “Gosh!
I wonder what my dad and ma would say if they could see me now? Dad
used to think I didn’t even like to cut the wood at home or weed the
garden, and just look at all the wood-cutting I’ve done, not to say
anything about shoveling dirt, hauling stone, and building trenches and
dugouts.”

“Never mind, we’ve got a good reason for doing this, Ben. When you come
to think of that reason it makes it worth while, doesn’t it?”

“Indeed it does, Dave! And don’t think for a minute that I’m
complaining. If doing this kind of work is going to help win the war,
then they can depend on my sticking on the job until we march right
into Berlin.”

“Say, wouldn’t that be fine?” exclaimed Phil. “How I’d like to march
down Unter den Linden singing ‘Over There!’ or some other of our
popular songs!”

“I don’t believe Germany will allow the war to go that far,” answered
Dave. “They know well enough how angry all the Allies are because of
the wanton destruction in France and Belgium, and they’ll most likely
be afraid that if we got into Germany we’d start to rip things up the
same way.”

“Do you mean by that, Dave, that they’d give in before we got into
Germany?” demanded Phil.

“That’s the way I figure it. I don’t believe they’ll allow any of the
Allies to get a foot farther than the Rhine.”

“How are they going to stop us if we push our way through?” questioned
Ben.

“Only one way to do that, Ben. They’ll have to ask for peace. And that
is what I think they’ll do. Behind it all, I think the common German
people, as well as their allies, are sick and tired of the conflict.
They have been hemmed in on all sides for several years, and been
unable to get supplies from the outside world, and the whole thing
hasn’t sat very well on their stomachs. I think if they could get out
of this war gracefully they would do it in a minute.”

“That aviator we captured didn’t talk that way.”

“He was putting on a front--that’s all. Germany may have had some
notion that with the collapse of Russia she might be able to get the
better of France, Italy, and England before we got into the fight. But
now that we are bringing our men over here by the thousands every
week, she must realize that the jig is up.”

“I can’t see it that way,” said Shadow. “I think she’ll fight to the
last ditch.”

“Well, if she does, Shadow, it will mean a terrible ending for her. The
Allies will keep on pounding her until there will be nothing left to
pound.”

“That’s what I’d like to see!” cried Phil. “I’d like to march right
into Germany and give them the same dose of medicine that they have
given the poor people here in France and those in Belgium, not to say
anything about the destruction by the Austrians in Upper Italy.”

“I wonder what is going to happen to Russia, now that she is out of the
war and in a state of revolution?” remarked Ben.

“That’s a question that nobody can answer just now,” returned Dave.
“It looks to me as if the different Russian political parties had each
other by the throat and nobody wanted to let go.”

“It certainly must be a dreadful country to live in just now,” said
Roger, with a shake of his head. “Neither a person nor his property is
safe.”

The engineers were hard at work cutting down several small trees which
were in the way, and in hauling some loose stones forward for the
temporary roadway, when the bombardment from the Germans, which had
lessened during the last half-hour, commenced all over again. Shells
came whistling and whining over the forest, and in the midst of this
came a telephone communication from the right of the fighting front
that the Germans were preparing to launch another gas attack.

“I don’t think the attack will reach as far as this, however,” said
Captain Obray. “The wind is blowing in the opposite direction. However,
we’ll be on our guard, and as soon as the signal is given I want every
man to put on his mask instantly.”

Dave was just getting ready to tell his men they might quit their
labors for the day when there came the whining of two shells through
the air. Both fell just a trifle short of the roadway the engineers
were building. Bang! Bang! went the missiles of death, one report close
upon the other. Then arose a great mass of rocks and dirt, followed
by flying sticks of wood and thin brush, the latter blown in all
directions.

Dave and his men were working close to the high rocks on the other side
of the roadway. As the shells fell they threw themselves flat, and most
of the flying debris went over them. Then, following the explosions,
came several crashes in the forest, and three large trees were seen to
be falling across the roadway.

“Get close to the rocks, everybody!” yelled Dave, as he caught a quick
glance of what was coming. “Look out for the falling trees!”

The words had scarcely left his lips when the first of the big trees
came down, the top hitting some of the rocks over the engineers’ heads
and sending them in various directions. Then, one after another, the
other trees followed, until the engineers found themselves completely
buried under a mass of trunks and branches.

Dave had tried to get on his hands and knees to crawl closer to the
high rocks, but as he did this a branch of one of the trees came down
across his back, sending him flat again. Then another tree fell on
top of the first, and he found himself held down so tightly that he
could scarcely breathe. Roger was on one side of him, and he, too, was
held so fast he could hardly move. There were many cries of pain and
yells for help; and in the midst of the excitement there came a shrill
whistle from a distance to notify the engineers that the German gas
attack was on the way!




CHAPTER IX

IN THE THICK OF THE FIGHT


“Help! Help! I’m being smothered!”

“Somebody take this tree off my legs!”

“Some smash-up, wasn’t it? I wonder if anybody was killed?”

These and other cries came from all directions. Some of the
exclamations were considerably smothered because those uttering them
were buried almost out of sight by the trees and other debris that had
come down on top of them.

“I say, Dave, are you hurt?” cried Phil. He was a few feet away from
our hero, and fortunately he was free to move about, even though his
face had been scratched by a branch which had come down close to his
head.

“I--I don’t know if I am hu--hurt or not,” gasped the young sergeant.
“I ca--can’t move!”

“And I’m in the same pickle, with this tree holding down my legs,”
returned Roger.

It was at this instant that the shrill whistle came from a distance--a
whistle all the fighting engineers knew only too well.

“A gas attack! A gas attack!” was the cry which rent the air. “On with
your masks, boys!”

Dave heard the cry, and immediately tried to make a move to get hold
of his mask and adjust it. But the tree branch held him down in such a
fashion that this was impossible. Roger was more fortunate, and even
though his legs were held down he managed to twist his body over on one
side and get his mask into position.

“Can you make it, Dave?” questioned Phil, who now had his mask ready to
slip on.

“No. I can’t straighten up enough,” answered our hero.

“I’ll see if I can’t get the limb out of the way,” went on Phil; and
then called to Ben and Shadow, who, fortunately, were as free as
himself to move about, to assist him.

The three slipped on their masks, and then under the directions of Phil
went to work to raise the branch that was holding Dave down. By their
united efforts they managed to get it up just enough to enable our hero
to crawl from under. As soon as this was accomplished Dave lost no time
in putting on his mask.

Even with the united efforts of the four young engineers, it was
impossible to raise the limb which held down Roger’s legs. So two
axes were brought forward, and while some held up the limb so that
it might not injure the fallen one’s legs, Dave and Phil chopped the
branch almost through, so that it was then cast aside with ease and the
senator’s son was able to stand up.

By this time all the other engineers had gotten word concerning the
mishap and were flocking to that vicinity to aid their comrades.
Three men were still under the wreckage, and it was not without great
difficulty that these were released. One poor fellow had his shoulder
badly bruised and had to be sent to the hospital.

Shadow had one hand much scratched, and both of his shins scraped, and
he, too, had to be sent to the rear to receive medical attention.

Long before the rescues came to an end the gas was on the engineers. It
rolled toward them in a thin yellowish cloud. But fortunately the wind
was coming up strongly, and this soon dissipated the gas so that it did
little damage.

“I think we came out of that disaster remarkably well,” was Captain
Obray’s comment, after he had made a survey of the damage wrought by
the two German shells.

“It’s a wonder to me that all of you weren’t killed,” remarked Frank
Andrews. “Just look at the holes those two shells made behind where the
trees stood.”

So far Dave had been so interested in what had occurred to himself and
his companions that he had not looked at the spot. Now he walked to
that vicinity, and his eyes opened widely when he beheld the two shell
craters. One was all of twenty feet in diameter and probably fifteen
feet deep in the center, while the other crater, through some freak of
nature, was shaped like a trench, ten feet wide and about as deep and
nearly three times as long.

“Those must have been some of the largest of the Hun shells,” was
Phil’s opinion. “Gee! when those holes fill with water there will be a
regular pond here.”

“The Heinies couldn’t have made a neater job of it, try their best, if
they were aiming to block this roadway,” said Ben. “It’s going to be a
job to clear the way again.”

“That isn’t the worst of it, Ben,” returned Dave. “Now that they have
got our range they may be sending more shells this way.”

It was fortunate that the shock of the explosions had come just as the
day’s work was drawing to a close. After so much excitement nobody felt
like going to work again, and the young engineers were glad enough to
seek their shelter, there to care for their hurts and to rest until
supper was announced.

It must be admitted that some of the engineers were a trifle
nervous when operations were resumed the following morning. But the
bombardment on both sides had ceased, and everything throughout the
forest was as quiet as it had formerly been. The work of clearing the
roadway was started without delay, and this having been completed, the
gang under Dave was sent forward for a full quarter of a mile. Here
there was a small ravine, and the engineers were instructed to bridge
it in a rough but substantial manner, so that some field artillery
would be able to cross without danger.

“This is what I call bridge-building with a vengeance,” remarked Ben,
when the task was in progress. “I wonder what the folks at home would
say if we threw such a structure as this across Dixon’s gully or the
brook back of Henderson’s apple orchard?”

“Well, they’d have to give us credit for building something substantial
if not ornamental, Ben,” answered Dave, with a grin. “When we get
through with it, a herd of elephants could use it without fear of a
collapse.”

“And just think of building it in two days!” exclaimed Phil. “Why,
ordinarily it would take local bridge-builders two or three weeks to
put up such a thing as this.”

“Certainly, in war, speed is what counts,” answered our hero.

At the time appointed a road through the forest, with three bridges
spanning as many gullies, was completed. And then one night, following
a heavy bombardment and a barrage fire, the American forces moved
forward.

This brought on a battle which lasted the best part of a day and a
half. There were attacks and counter-attacks, and the din of the
light and heavy field-pieces was terrific. The Germans did everything
possible to shove the Americans and the French back, but in the end had
to give way, and when the battle finally subsided the Allied forces had
made an advance of from four to six miles on a front twenty-two miles
long, and captured three villages.

“How is that for fighting?” cried Dave enthusiastically, when the news
of the advance was confirmed. “We’ll show them yet what it means to
bring Uncle Sam into this war.”

“That’s what we will!” returned Roger.

“If only we could rush them right along to the Rhine!” came from Phil.

It must not be supposed that the engineers were idle while this great
battle was going on. They were called upon to repair two of the
bridges, both of which were partly demolished by German shell-fire, and
then they were sent to the front once more to lay out a new line of
trenches. This was perilous work in the extreme.

“We’re going under fire again, men,” announced Captain Obray, when the
command came to go to the front.

This meant that each engineer must carry his rifle as well as the
entrenching tools assigned to him. Along with the load on his back this
was a weight of eighty to ninety pounds per man, certainly something of
a load to carry over rough roads and through a tangle of underbrush and
loose and jagged rocks. More than one man grew exhausted, and had to
either rest up or be carried to the rear.

“Here is where sheer bone and muscle count,” was Dave’s comment, as he
ploughed forward through some underbrush with the detail under him. It
was a warm summer day, and all the engineers were perspiring freely.

“I wish we had had this to do last winter when it was colder,” remarked
Ben.

“Oh, for some ice cream soda!” sighed Roger.

“Say, that puts me in mind of a story,” cried Shadow. “A small boy came
to his mother in the winter time with a big idea. He had six snowballs
in his arms, and brought them right into the house. ‘What are you going
to do with those snowballs, Bobby?’ asked his mother. ‘I want you to
put ’em away in your closet where you keep the jam,’ answered the small
boy. ‘What do you want to do that for?’ ‘Oh,’ said the small boy, ‘I
want you to keep ’em until next summer for me, and then when I can’t
have any ice cream I’ll go and get a snowball.’” And at this joke there
was a slight smile.

“There is only one good thing about that joke, Shadow,” remarked Dave.
“It makes a fellow think of winter, and believe me it’s a good thing to
think of ice and snow when the thermometer is up in the nineties as it
is to-day.”

Presently came the command to halt, and then the young engineers were
instructed to crawl forward with caution to a line already mapped out
by Frank Andrews and several of the experienced linemen under him. As
soon as the line was gained the engineers must lose no time in digging
themselves in, so that no stray bullets from the German trenches might
catch them.

Dave had been in such a position before, so there was nothing in the
way of novelty about it. He well knew the peril of the work, and he
cautioned all under him to be careful in exposing themselves.

“Those Germans are as mad as hornets for being driven back,” he
remarked; “and they would more than glory in it to lay out some of our
fellows. And remember, while you are working I want all of you to have
your guns handy, so that if they show themselves or try to reach us we
can give a good account of ourselves.”

“I’d just like a little fighting,” rejoined Roger.

The wish of the senator’s son was gratified sooner than any of them
expected. They had reached the line and were busy digging themselves
into temporary quarters, when, with no warning whatever, came a volley
of shots from a patch of woods some distance ahead.

At the time the volley was delivered the last gang of the engineers,
led by a Lieutenant Harney, was coming up. The lieutenant was in the
lead, and as the volley rang out he was seen to throw up his hands and
pitch headlong. The others of the detail dropped down in the grass, one
wounded in the shoulder and another in the side. The lieutenant had
been struck squarely in the forehead, and was no doubt instantly killed.

“They are coming this way! The Heinies are coming this way!”

The report proved true. Encouraged by the success of their first
volley, a company of German soldiers came crawling forward through the
thick brushwood, sending volley after volley in the direction of the
engineers.

“We’ve got to fight them, boys!” shouted Captain Obray. “Make every
shot tell!”

He had hardly spoken two words before several of the engineers began
to use their guns. Then the others caught up their weapons, and a
scattering of shots could be heard all along the line of the proposed
new trench.

The first company of Germans was quickly followed by a second, and then
a third, aggregating probably four hundred and fifty men. The engineers
numbered about three hundred and sixty, a considerable number being
missing from the battalion because of wounds, sickness, and various
other reasons.

It was an unequal contest, but the blood of the fighting engineers was
up, especially when they saw the death of Lieutenant Harney, who was
popular in the command.

Rapid orders came from the major of the battalion, and Captain Obray
told those under him to move somewhat to the left, where a slight rise
of ground afforded a little better shelter. In the meantime, word
was sent back by the signal corps operating in that vicinity that
the Germans were making an attack on the engineers, and asking for
reinforcements.

In another five minutes the contest was on in all its intensity. Volley
after volley came from the Germans, who were attempting to advance by
crawling from rock to rock and from bush to bush. But the fighting
engineers sent over bullet for bullet and had the satisfaction of
seeing more than one of the enemy drop to rise no more.

“Gee! this is the hottest fight yet!” gasped Phil, after the firing had
continued for ten or fifteen minutes.

“If we only had a machine-gun handy we might do something,” answered
Dave.

It was now seen that several additional German companies were rushing
to the scene of the conflict. Evidently the enemy was massing with the
idea of breaking through on that part of the front.

“If we can only hold out until we get reinforcements!” said Dave.

“We’ve got to hold our ground, boys!” shouted Captain Obray. “Don’t
give in an inch! We’ll have help here before long! Make every shot
count! Show those Huns what you are made of!”

A cheer went up at these words--a cheer which was almost drowned out by
a volley of shots from the German company which had just come up on the
double-quick. Then a great yell arose from the enemy line, and a few
minutes later they leaped up and, firing as they ran, made straight for
the American engineers.




CHAPTER X

DAVE SHOWS HIS BRAVERY


My young readers must understand that it would be next to impossible
to give all the details of the battle which occurred when the fighting
engineers were attacked first by a battalion of the Germans and then by
a full regiment.

By the command of the major the engineering battalion gradually
withdrew to the protection of a number of jagged rocks, flanked here
and there by thick brushwood. Here, screening themselves as much
as possible, the Americans poured forth volley after volley at the
Germans, and over a score of them went down, some never to rise again.

But the enemy had probably received word from their air scouts as
to the exact number of the engineers, and with the first battalion
augmented by the remainder of their regiment, they showed increased
courage and recklessness, and suddenly made a charge forward, shouting
like demons as they came on.

It was certainly a thrilling moment and enough to make the heart of
any soldier quail, however brave. Even the most unthinking of the
engineers could see that they were largely outnumbered, for the German
regiment counted up to at least sixteen hundred men.

Dave, Roger, Phil, and Ben kept close together. Shadow was not in this
contest, having not yet returned from the field hospital to which he
had been sent after the accident when the big trees had come down.

When the call had been sent to the rear asking for reinforcements, word
had also been sent up to the top of the little hill behind them asking
if the battery there could not open on the advancing Germans. This
battery now sent forth a lively fire; but it soon had to cease because
the Germans were now so close to the Americans that firing on them
would endanger our engineers.

“Give it to ’em hot, boys, but don’t expose yourselves until you have
to!” called Captain Obray, and the remaining lieutenant repeated these
words and then they were also repeated by the top sergeant, who had
already taken poor Lieutenant Harney’s place.

Dave, partly screened by a rock and a bit of brushwood, was handling
his rifle as accurately and rapidly as he could. In the beginning,
as was to be expected, he had been excited and his hand had trembled
a little. But now his nerves were steadying themselves, and he took
deliberate aim at one of the Huns before he pulled the trigger. He saw
the man go down, and then he immediately shot at a second and a third
of the enemy.

Facing such a determined resistance, the Germans paused for a moment
while still half-way to the line which separated them from the
engineers. This pause worked great havoc, for it gave all the Americans
a chance to continue their fire, which they did with deadly effect. But
then, urged most strenuously by their officers, who in some cases did
not hesitate to slap their men with their swords, the Germans came on
once more, firing several more volleys and then dashing in with their
bayonets. At such close quarters it became practically impossible to
continue the contest with any degree of regularity. It was a case of
every engineer for himself, and at odds of three or four to one.

The first fellow to come at Dave was a tall, burly individual who
looked as if he might be a farmhand. He made a vicious jab at our
hero, who sprang aside with a nimbleness acquired by long practice in
the gymnasium and on the football field at Oak Hall. Then Dave made a
lunge with his own bayonet, and had the satisfaction of catching the
fellow in the thigh. The German pulled back and made another lunge, but
this time Dave parried the stroke, and then caught the fellow through
the shoulder. This caused the German to stagger back, and suddenly he
dropped his gun and fell headlong on his side.

While this was going on, Roger and the other engineers were likewise
having their hands full. Seven or eight Germans had appeared in a bunch
and were jabbing right and left with their bayonets, yelling at the top
of their lungs and making the most ferocious faces. One caught Phil
through the arm, and another sent Roger to his knees.

This was a perilous position for the senator’s son, because before
he could rise two of the Germans were on him, each with an upraised
bayonet. But now Ben leaped in on one side, catching one of the Germans
under the chin with his cold steel. Not wishing to have his throat
pierced, the fellow jerked backward, pitching heavily over the rocks.

But the other German had already made another pass at Roger, and that
young engineer would have caught it in the heart had he not made a
quick movement to one side. Then the German, having missed his footing,
fell forward and as he did so caught the senator’s son by the throat.

But now Dave was coming on. Why he had done so, he did not know, but
he had turned his gun around in his hands so that the butt was in
front of him. Using this with all force, he made a long leap forward,
bringing the gun-butt down directly on the head of the German. There
was a curious little crack, and the man fell away to one side,
unconscious, if not entirely done for.

After that matters became so exciting that the young engineers hardly
knew what was taking place. Sometimes they used their bayonets, and
again they swung their rifles around like clubs, sweeping the air in
front of them in wide semicircles. Occasionally a shot was fired, and
Ben declared afterwards that he saw one German shoot another.

With one of his most trustworthy officers gone, Captain Obray had
his hands full doing what he could for his command. The engineers
had already commenced to fall back on the roadway which they had
recently been building, but orders were to retreat slowly, because
reinforcements would be coming up now in a short while.

Dave had lost his helmet, his shirt was ripped up his back in several
places, and blood was streaming from a cut on one hand, and a bruise
was on his cheek. Not until some time later did he realize that the cut
on his hand had come from a glancing bullet.

The engineers had fallen back about fifty yards when Dave found himself
and those under him close to where Captain Obray was himself fighting.
The old civil engineer had discharged his pistol pointblank at one of
the Germans, but now three had surrounded him, two using their bayonets
and the other handling his gun as a club. The captain was struck on one
shoulder, and his pistol was sent whizzing from his hand. Then the two
Germans with their bayonets stabbed at the American officer viciously
several times.

When the pistol was sent flying from the captain’s hand it landed
almost at Dave’s feet. He was about six yards away, and without
stopping to think twice he caught up the weapon, aimed it at the
nearest of the Germans, and fired.

As my old readers know, Dave was quite an accurate shot, not only with
a rifle, but also with a pistol, and on more than one occasion he had
made a rather remarkable record while firing at a target. His quick aim
was accurate, and the German nearest to him went down, shot through the
side. Then Dave fired the second time, and the other German was hit in
the right arm. The fellow was just in the act of making another lunge
with his bayonet, this time at Captain Obray’s throat; but the shot in
the arm caused him to let his weapon drop. Then, of a sudden, he sank
down, for he had already been wounded in the leg and had been keeping
up merely through excitement. The third German was running away.

“Fine work, Porter, fine work!” gasped Captain Obray, as Dave sprang to
his side and returned the officer’s pistol to him.

“Are you much hurt? Do you want me to help you to the rear, Captain?”
demanded the young sergeant quickly.

“No, I don’t think I want to go to the rear,” was the answer, in a
voice that shook with emotion. “Porter, I sha’n’t forget this. It was
splendid!” And then the captain turned away, for there was much for him
to do.

Only a few minutes later Dave found himself again in the thick of
the fight. But now a cheer rent the air, and it became known that a
regiment of American infantry and several machine-guns were on their
way to relieve the engineers, who, of course, were not supposed to do
any regular fighting.

“Oh, if we can only hold out until they come!” muttered Dave. He was
beginning to feel the strain and could hardly keep on his feet.

The engineers were now ordered to withdraw to one side of the road
in order to give the infantry and the machine-guns a chance to come
up. Of course the machine-guns could not be used on the Germans while
they were mixed up with the Americans, but it was thought they could
be brought into play in case the enemy did any massing or started to
retreat.

“Hurrah, here they come!”

“Now those Huns will get what is coming to them!”

“Rush ’em all the way back to the Rhine!”

A company of American infantry was coming down the rough forest road on
the double-quick. A short distance behind were two other companies, and
then followed a machine-gun detachment.

“Our other men are coming up from the other side of the hill,”
announced the American officer, who was in command of the newly-arrived
troops. “They’ll be here inside of five minutes, I believe.”

At first the Germans were rather discomfited when they saw the American
infantry coming up. But seeing only the three companies and the single
machine-gun detachment, they plucked up courage again and went at the
fight almost as vigorously as before.

The infantry leaped into the fray with all the speed at their command,
and then the contest became more bloody every instant. In one place
among some rocks at least fifteen men from each side fought in such a
close space that it was almost impossible for any of the soldiers to
get elbow room. Several of the men grabbed each other by the throat,
and two of the wounded were all but trampled to death in the mêlée.

Phil and Roger had both sustained several small wounds, but they still
kept on fighting, in spite of the loss of blood which was steadily
making them weaker.

At last the other American troops which were expected around the
lower side of the little hill burst into view. With them came another
machine-gun detachment and also a company which was well supplied with
hand-grenades. These grenades they used upon the Germans whenever they
saw an opportunity to do so without injuring any of their own men.

With a force against them now equal, if not superior, to their own, the
Germans began to waver, and one company began to fall back, in spite of
the protestations of some of their officers. Then, as all the Americans
made a rush, the remainder of the enemy commenced to retreat.

“Hurrah, we’ve got ’em on the run!”

“Give it to them good and plenty, boys!”

“What’s the matter with rounding them up and making them prisoners?”

“That’s the talk! Let us teach ’em a lesson they won’t forget!”

So the cries ran on, and while the majority of the Germans managed to
get away from the vicinity of the Americans, a half-company became
detached from the others, and these were quickly surrounded.

“Throw up your hands!” cried one of the American officers, and he
repeated the words in German.

A number of the hands went up, and some of the Germans, realizing that
they were out of the fighting, began to shout, “_Kamerad! Kamerad!_”
Two, however, of the crowd were ugly, one a middle-aged soldier and
the other a rather young-looking officer. These two very foolishly
raised their weapons and began shooting, the soldier with his gun and
the young officer with his pistol. Both of the weapons were discharged
twice when the officer and the private were laid low by bullets of the
Americans. Then the others surrendered without further question.

Dave was close at hand when the capture was made of the German
soldiers. He heard the discharge of the pistol and the gun in the hands
of the officer and the private and felt a strange pain shoot through
his body. Then a sudden faintness seemed to overtake him, and he fell
to the ground senseless.




CHAPTER XI

IN THE HOSPITAL


“Well, how are you feeling this morning, Dave?”

“A great deal better than I did yesterday, Roger. I think, if all goes
well, I’ll be up on my feet by to-morrow.”

“You’ve got to go slow, so the nurse tells me. That wound was rather a
serious one, even though it was clean-cut.”

“I suppose I can be thankful that it didn’t go through my lungs instead
of my side,” went on Dave, with an attempt at a smile. “How are you
feeling, Roger?”

“Oh, I’m all right again.”

“And how is Phil?”

“Here he comes to speak for himself,” answered the young corporal.

About two weeks had elapsed since that memorable day when Dave and
the other fighting engineers had made such a record of bravery for
themselves. Through them the new road through the forest had been held,
and now the American line in that direction had been advanced from
eight to ten miles. The Germans in that vicinity were gradually being
shoved into a pocket, and the Allies felt certain that sooner or later
they would break away and begin a general retreat.

As Dave intimated, the bullet which had prostrated him had passed
through his side not a great distance from his right lung. It had been
a clean-cut flesh wound, however, and no complications had followed.

At first Dave had been taken to a temporary field hospital, but
twenty-four hours later he had been placed in one of the big ambulances
along with a number of others and rushed to a base hospital some
distance back from the lines, and it was at this place he now rested.
He had been given the best of medical attention, and a Red Cross nurse
saw to it that he had every comfort.

During those days in the hospital our hero had been visited twice by
Captain Obray, who himself had been slightly wounded in the fray. The
captain was very grateful to Dave for what he had done, insisting that
our hero had saved his life.

“I shall never forget this, Porter, never!” the captain had said, in a
voice filled with emotion. “And I want everybody to know it--even your
folks at home.”

Many of the engineers had been cited for special bravery, and at
the top of the list was Dave’s name, for which, of course, he was
pardonably proud. He had likewise been recommended for promotion.

“I understand they are going to offer you a lieutenancy, Dave,”
remarked Phil, after he had come up and greeted his chum.

“A lieutenancy!” exclaimed Dave, his eyes lighting up with expectancy.

“That’s the talk around camp. And I don’t know that anybody in our
company deserves it more than you do.”

“Phil is right!” added Roger. “And maybe it will come pretty quick,
too, Dave. Somebody has got to fill poor Harney’s place.”

“I think you fellows ought to be promoted yourselves.”

“There has been a little talk of making us sergeants,” answered Roger.
“Of course, we won’t complain if they insist on shoving us up,” and he
grinned. Even though he was the son of a United States senator who had
made a great record for himself at Washington, Roger was as modest as
any engineer in the corps.

During the days spent in the base hospital our hero had received
several letters from home, all of which had given him more or less
satisfaction. First had come a communication from his father, giving
him many particulars of how matters were going both in business and
at home, and stating that he and Dave’s Uncle Dunston were once more
active in Liberty Loan work and that Mr. Wadsworth had doubled his
previous subscription to the loan.

Then had come a brief communication from his sister Laura, stating that
she had heard he was wounded, but was glad to know that it was not
serious. She added that she was writing a longer letter to Roger and
that Jessie was also sending him a communication which would probably
tell him all the things he cared most to know. She added that old
Professor Potts had recovered somewhat from his recent indisposition
and was again around, spending, as before, most of his time in the
Wadsworth library, poring over his precious volumes.

And then two days later had come the long-looked-for letter from
Jessie. Still weak from his wounds, Dave’s hands had trembled not a
little when he tore this communication open to peruse it.

The heart of the girl whom the young engineer adored was in that
letter, and Dave read it over many times. In it Jessie spoke of the
shock she had received when the casualty lists in the daily newspapers
had contained the information that Dave had been wounded. Then she told
how a cablegram from Roger had been received, stating that it was not
serious.

  “You cannot imagine, dear Dave, how much relieved we were to receive
  that cablegram,” Jessie continued. “We had not slept at all during
  the night. It was dreadful to think that you had been shot down
  by those awful Germans. Oh, Dave, when you get around again do be
  careful! If anything happened to you I do not know what I would do. I
  don’t think I would care to live any longer.”

“Dear, dear Jessie!” murmured Dave, as he read this paragraph several
times. “The best girl that ever lived!”

Jessie then went on to relate about how she had missed some letters
from Dave which had since arrived in a bunch, and she added that she
herself had forwarded several letters to him which for some reason he
could not have received.

  “After this I am going to number the letters,” she added; “so you
  will know exactly what is missing, if any.

  “Of course you have seen Laura’s letters to Roger, so you know all
  about the success of our entertainments here for the local charities.
  Although it called for a good deal of hard work, there was not a
  little fun attached to it, too, and I am sure we all enjoyed it.
  There was only one cloud for me, Dave; and now that it has passed
  I hardly think it is worth mentioning. Still, as some day or other
  you may meet Lieutenant Gebauer, or possibly Nat Poole, who knows of
  what occurred, perhaps it would be best for me to let you know just
  how things stand.

  “Lieutenant Gebauer, as you are aware, is connected with the Gebauer
  jewelry concern of Philadelphia, and he and Papa transact quite a
  good deal of business. He often visits Crumville, and when Papa heard
  he had joined the army and got a commission, he was so pleased that
  he asked Gebauer to our house.

  “From that time on the lieutenant--for what reason I know not,
  because I gave him no encouragement--became very attentive to me. He,
  of course, knew how matters stood between you and me, but that seemed
  to have no effect on him. He insisted upon pressing his attentions on
  me, until I was forced to give him the cold shoulder. Through Papa he
  gave me a very handsome Red Cross pin, one which their concern has
  something to do with manufacturing. But I am not going to wear it.
  I have a pin which I purchased myself. He was quite put out when I
  finally dropped him, and went off in anything but a good humor.

  “During his stay here in Crumville in some manner or other he became
  acquainted with the Pooles; and when Nat was home on leave of absence
  from the training camp the two became quite chummy. Both of them are
  now in France, and it is possible that you may meet them, and for
  that reason, as I said before, I think you ought to know how matters
  stand. Lieutenant Gebauer may try to make you believe that we are
  very friendly, but it is not true. I simply tolerated him because
  I didn’t wish to do anything which might interfere with Papa’s
  business connections with the Philadelphia concern.”

There was more of this, Jessie going into some of the details of
what had taken place between her and the lieutenant during the
entertainments and for a week or two following. She did not say
outright, but Dave could read between the lines, and he felt certain
that Max Gebauer had in the end made himself quite obnoxious, even
though outwardly he had acted the part of a gentleman.

“He must be a regular pill,” was Dave’s mental comment, as he put the
letter away. “If he’s that sort, he’d better not come around where I
am. He certainly can’t amount to much if he trains with such a chap as
Nat Poole.”

Dave was quite curious to know whether Lieutenant Gebauer and Nat Poole
had really come over to France. But there was no way of finding out.
He questioned a number with whom he came in contact, who had been at
various American camps throughout France, but not one could give him a
word concerning the pair.

During those days came another cause for gratitude. Buster Beggs had
recovered from the gas attack which had laid him low, and had once
more joined the engineers at the front. His eyes were a trifle weak as
yet, and he had to be careful of what he ate for fear of getting sick
at the stomach, but otherwise he was as well as ever. Shadow was also
around again.

It was a great day for Dave when he was allowed to get up and put on
his clothes once more and go out into the sunshine. He felt quite
shaky, and he was glad enough to rest after walking but a short
distance. The base hospital had once been a château, and in the
garden was a beautiful fountain surrounded by flowers, and here the
convalescent soldiers gathered on benches to regain their health and to
talk over the war.

“I think the war will end in another three or four months,” said one of
the convalescents.

“That’s right; they must be pretty close to the end of their
resources,” put in another.

“Don’t you believe that, Jack,” came from a third. “They must have been
close to the end of their resources before, but now you must remember
they are plundering the Russians of everything of use in that country.
They’ll be able to get immense quantities of food and war material that
were meant for the Russian army, and that will keep them going for a
long while.”

“The collapse of Russia will undoubtedly help the Germans to continue
the conflict,” said Dave. “But I believe that sooner or later they’ll
have to give in. They must know that they cannot stand against all of
us combined.”

“I’ll tell you where we have got them,” said another of the
convalescents, a marine who had seen some fierce fighting ever since
the Americans had entered the contest. “The Heinies can fight well
enough while they are in a bunch, but as soon as you separate them
they become next to helpless. Their individual soldiers don’t seem to
have any initiative. Now with our men it’s just the opposite. They’ll
fight well enough together, but let them get separated, and each man is
on his mettle to do the very best he knows how and make a record for
himself.”

“You are right there,” replied Dave. “And that puts me in mind of a
story I heard only yesterday. A Western cowboy, who knew all about
rounding up cattle but very little about army life, was in one of the
advances and all at once became separated from the rest of his command.
He wandered around until he came to a trench, and then found a dugout
containing some German soldiers.

“Now it seems this cowboy had been on kitchen duty for his company some
days before, and as he didn’t like peeling potatoes and doing stunts
like that he was very much out of humor. He pointed his gun at the
dugout and yelled to the Germans to come out. One of them held up his
hands and managed to ask in broken English what was wanted.

“‘You come out of that or I’ll fire this hand-grenade at you!’ yelled
the cowboy, and flourished something in his hand.

“The Germans became very much frightened, and one after another came
out of the dugout and lined up, hands in the air. There were five of
them, and the cowboy motioned to them to march with their hands up in
the direction of the American line. Once or twice the Germans balked,
but every time they did this the cowboy made a swing with his hand as
if to throw a grenade at them.

“Finally they got near the American lines and some other soldiers came
out to see what was doing.

“‘I’ve got five of the Heinies here,’ announced the cowboy calmly. ‘And
it only took this baked potato to bring ’em in,’ and then he showed the
supposed hand-grenade, which was only a common potato which he had kept
as a memento of his hours in the camp kitchen.”

“Some potato!” cried one of the listeners.

“That was sure a raw deal,” said another laughing.

“No raw deal at all--the potato was baked,” answered Dave, with a grin,
and at this there was another laugh.

A few days later Dave was getting ready to leave the hospital. Once on
his feet, his strength had returned rapidly, and he now insisted that
he be allowed to return to his command.

“You are certainly a plucky soldier,” remarked the Red Cross nurse who
had been taking care of him. “Not many of the boys are as anxious to
leave as you are.”

Dave was sitting on a bench waiting for the lorry which was to take him
and a number of others back to the front, when an ambulance came up
with some wounded. Three were on stretchers, but others were able to
get out themselves and walk into the hospital.

“Dave Porter!”

The cry came from one of the soldiers who had descended from the
ambulance, a fellow in the regulation khaki and with his left hand done
up in a sling. Our hero stared at the new arrival in amazement.

It was Nat Poole!




CHAPTER XII

WHAT NAT POOLE SAID


“Why, Nat Poole! what brings you here?” exclaimed Dave, as he moved
forward to meet the young fellow from Crumville. The fact that Nat was
in uniform and had his left hand done up in a sling made our hero for
the time being forget his antagonism to the slacker who had never been
a friend.

“Oh, I got my wrist sprained--I don’t know but that it’s broken,”
replied the son of the well-known money lender of Crumville. He turned
anything but a pleasant face to Dave. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I got wounded in one of the little musses we had with the Germans.”

“Wounded? I didn’t know you engineers got into any fighting. I thought
your job was a soft snap well behind the lines,” returned Nat Poole.

“We have had more or less fighting to do ever since we came over,”
returned the young sergeant. “Even when we were at the front with the
Canadians the Germans tried to rush us two or three times, and blew up
one of the bridges we were building.”

“Was it much of a wound?” went on Nat curiously.

“I got a bullet through my side and another one grazed the back of my
hand”; and Dave exhibited the scar left by the latter hurt. “I’ve been
at the hospital for several weeks. I’m just getting ready to leave now.”

“You don’t say! Where are you going--home?”

“Home! Not much! I’m going to the front again just as fast as I can get
there.”

“Well, if you were wounded as bad as you say they ought to give you a
chance to go home and rest up,” continued the money lender’s son.

“But I don’t want to go home, Nat. I want to go to the front and stay
there until this war is over and we have licked the Heinies out of
their boots!” cried Dave. “Why, I wouldn’t miss the fun for anything!”

“You must be a queer sort, Dave Porter, to consider being shot fun,”
grumbled Nat. “I guess you weren’t hurt much. Maybe you only got a
scratch or two and wanted to show off,” he added, with a touch of
old-time envy in his voice. At Oak Hall, Nat Poole had always envied
Dave his popularity and had done everything in his power to depreciate
it.

“Well, all I can tell you about the wound in my side is what the
doctors and nurses here have said,” returned our hero calmly. “They all
think I ought to stay in the hospital a little longer. They say they
never heard of a fellow getting up so quickly and starting back for the
front. But I’m tired of staying here doing nothing. I want to get with
the rest of the bunch and see what is going on.

“But tell me about yourself, Nat,” continued Dave kindly. “Were you in
a fight?”

“Yes, I was!” replied the other sourly.

“What, with the Huns?” questioned Dave incredulously. He could not
understand how the money lender’s son had been able to get to the
fighting front so quickly.

“No, it wasn’t at the front,” growled Nat. “I got into a row with our
company cook. He served us some chow that wasn’t fit for a dog to
touch. I laid him out good and proper, and he hit me with a frying-pan.
He had no right to do it, and I reported him.”

“And was it the frying-pan that knocked out your wrist?” queried Dave,
and now he had all he could do to keep from grinning in Nat’s face.

“Yes, it was. And it pained awfully at first. I used my first-aid
kit, but it didn’t seem to do any good, and so I asked for permission
to come up here to the hospital and have the wrist examined. I want
it attended to properly, too! I don’t want any two-cent army doctor
mussing with it. I don’t intend to go through life with a stiff wrist,
or a crooked one, either. Do you suppose they’ve got any really good
doctors at this place?”

“There are several surgeons here who are just as good as you’ll find
anywhere, Nat. And the nurses and the nursing couldn’t be better. Then
you came over on your own account?”

“Oh, I got permission, of course.”

“Is the camp you are at in this vicinity?”

“It’s about two miles from here. Say, take me in and show me where to
go. This wrist of mine is beginning to hurt again,” went on Nat Poole.

Had it been anybody but the money lender’s son, Dave might have felt
more sympathy for him. But as it was, he knew that when Nat was hurt he
was inclined to make a mountain out of a molehill.

Though Dave aided as much as he could, the money lender’s son had to
wait until the more serious cases had been disposed of by the surgeons
in attendance. Then a rather elderly man, the same who had attended
Dave, took hold of Nat.

“I can’t find any bones broken,” said the surgeon, after a careful
examination. “The wrist is bruised a little and probably feels
somewhat lame. We’ll put some liniment on it and bind it up well, and I
think you will find it as well as ever in a day or two.”

“Don’t you think I’d better stay at the hospital for a few days and
make sure of it?” questioned Nat, eagerly.

“What! Stay? Not at all! This place is only for those who are more or
less seriously wounded. That isn’t a hospital case at all. In fact, I
can hardly understand why you took the trouble to come here to have
it attended to. Many of the men get hurts much worse than that and
say nothing about them;” and then the surgeon turned his back on Nat
to show that the interview was at an end. Evidently he had met such
slackers as the money lender’s son before and knew exactly how to
handle them.

“I knew just how it would be,” growled Nat, as he walked out, followed
by Dave. “As long as there isn’t any extra money in it for them they
don’t care how they treat a fellow! I know how my wrist hurts, even if
he doesn’t. I’ll go back to camp and take care of it myself. But I am
not going on duty yet awhile, and I’ll tell the top sergeant so. By the
way, I see you are a sergeant.”

“Yes.”

“It’s funny how some fellows just tumble into luck,” went on Nat, more
sourly than ever. “I came pretty near becoming a sergeant myself, but a
big bruiser of a fellow from up the State did me out of it.”

“Well, you’ll have a good chance to work your way up, Nat, now you are
over in France. They are promoting fellows every day for duties well
done and for bravery under fire.”

“Humph! I know all about that. Those who are in favor with the fellows
higher up get all the plums, and the rest of the poor dubs can whistle.”

“I don’t believe that at all, Nat. I’ve been over here now since the
middle of last summer, and so far as I can see, promotions have been
only according to merit. Of course, here and there a person who doesn’t
particularly deserve it may get ahead, but that is the exception to the
rule. Most of the men who have gotten honors have well deserved them.”

“Humph! you’ll never make me believe that, Dave Porter. I know too much
about such things. I know that money talks, for one thing. I think I
might have had a lieutenancy if my old man would only have shelled out
enough money. But you know how tight he is--just as tight as the bark
on a tree.”

“What did he say when you were drafted, Nat?” questioned Dave, with
pardonable curiosity.

“What did he say? What could he say? I was drafted, and that was all
there was to it. You knew my sentiments when you were in Crumville.
Didn’t you break up one of my peace meetings--a meeting I had a perfect
right to hold?”

“I deny that you had a right to hold that meeting, Nat. However, all of
that is now past and gone. You’re in the army, and it is your duty to
do the best you can for Uncle Sam.”

“Oh, I’ll do my duty--don’t you fear about that, Dave Porter. I’m just
as patriotic as anybody. But, at the same time, I claim I have a right
to be patriotic in my own way.”

“Well, you let me give you a little advice, Nat,” was Dave’s earnest
comment. “The fellows over here in France are rather serious-minded,
and they won’t stand for any nonsense. If they get the least intimation
that you are any kind of a slacker, they’ll come down on you like a ton
of bricks.”

“I don’t need your advice!”

“Very well then, Nat; I won’t say another word.”

“You think just because you’ve been over here a year or so and they
have made you a sergeant that you know everything. I haven’t forgotten
how you tried to run things at Oak Hall. Of course, some of the fellows
toadied to you, but if you’ll remember, I wasn’t in that crowd.”

“Now, Nat, don’t get so hot under the collar. It won’t get you
anywhere. We’re both over here to do our duty, so what is the use of
quarreling? I was going to ask you about some of the folks at home and
how Crumville looked and all that; and I thought maybe you would like
to know something about Ben Basswood and the other fellows you know who
are over here.”

“I don’t want to know anything about Ben Basswood or any of the others
of the bunch who are under your thumb. I’m with a crowd that suits me a
great deal better than that Oak Hall bunch ever did. But I’ll tell you
one thing, Dave Porter,” went on Nat suddenly. “There is one fellow in
our command that you had better keep your eyes open for.”

“And who is that?”

“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough--that is, if you ever get any real
news from Crumville,” answered the money lender’s son insinuatingly.

“Then you don’t want to tell me?”

“Well, if you want to know so bad, it’s Lieutenant Max Gebauer, the son
of that millionaire jewelry manufacturer of Philadelphia,” went on Nat
triumphantly. “You know their firm and the Wadsworth concern have a
whole lot of business dealings.”

“Well, what has Lieutenant Gebauer and those business dealings to do
with me?” questioned our hero, although he knew about what was coming.

“I guess you thought you had it all settled with Jessie Wadsworth and
had it all fixed just how you were going to tie fast to the Wadsworth
fortune,” continued Nat. “Well, maybe you’ll have another guess coming.
I don’t imagine Jessie Wadsworth thinks as much of you as you think she
does.”

“Don’t you think you had better let Jessie drop, Nat? Our feelings for
each other are our own, not yours.” And Dave’s voice grew a trifle cold.

“Oh, of course! And I don’t intend to butt in. I never cared for her,
and you know it. She’s an only daughter, and thoroughly spoiled.” Nat
did not seem to realize that he was an only son and over-indulged.
“Just the same, I think Lieutenant Gebauer has got the upper hand
of you. He helped her at some charity exhibitions, and took her out
riding, and to one of the dances, and I don’t know what all. He’s been
calling on her right along, and the rumor is around Crumville that they
are secretly engaged.”

“Nat, you’re making that so-called rumor up yourself!” cried Dave. “I
know all about how Max Gebauer has been calling on Jessie and how he
forced his attentions on her. She herself has written to me about it,
if you must know. I don’t give that fellow any credit for what he has
done. But now that he is in France and she is done with him, why not
let the whole matter drop?”

“Oh, so she wrote to you about him, did she? Well, maybe she told the
truth and maybe she didn’t. Oh, now don’t get too hot!” cried Nat
hastily, as Dave’s eyes suddenly flashed fire and he clenched his
fists. “I’m only telling you about things that I saw with my own eyes.
I know that she went out with him a great deal and that she seemed to
like his company. And whether you want to believe it or not, there is
a rumor that they are secretly engaged and that they are to announce
the engagement publicly as soon as she can get some sort of a decent
pretext for breaking off her engagement with you. That’s all I’ve got
to say.”

And having thus delivered himself, Nat Poole turned to where a
motor-lorry bound for his camp was standing, and a few minutes later
was off, leaving Dave in a much disturbed frame of mind staring after
him.




CHAPTER XIII

THE DISTINGUISHED SERVICE MEDAL


An hour later found Dave on a heavy motor-lorry bound for the place to
which the fighting engineers had moved after the thrilling fight on the
new roadway through the forest. Our hero had been told by one of the
hospital staff that the lorry was headed that way, and the driver, a
young American college man, had readily consented to give him a lift.

The drive to the engineers’ camp took about two hours. For the greater
part it was over roadways much torn up by shell-fire and being used
by a steady stream of lorries and other turnouts coming and going. On
the way they met a battery which was shifting its position, and also a
regiment of soldiers who were swinging along whistling popular tunes.
They likewise passed a number of French people, most of them carrying
some of their worldly possessions on their backs or under their arms.
All of them looked much downcast, as if they had lost their last friend
on earth, yet when they met the eyes of the Americans they would smile
hopefully.

“They’re looking to our boys to do a whole lot for them,” said the
lorry driver to Dave.

“And we’re going to make good!” answered our hero promptly. “Those
folks are all going to have their homes back again.”

At the time Dave returned to camp the engineers had finished one piece
of work and were awaiting orders. As soon as he leaped from the lorry
there was a rush to greet him.

“Here’s Dave!”

“How are you, old man?”

“How did they treat you at the hospital?”

“Say, but you’re looking fine! It must pay to get wounded.”

“It hasn’t been the same old camp since you went away, Dave. My, but
we’re glad to see you back!” And Roger, who had thus spoken, grabbed
him by both hands. Then the others surrounded our hero, and while one
caught a hand another caught him around the shoulders and another
around the waist.

“Hay, let up, you fellows!” cried the young sergeant good-naturedly.
“Please don’t pull me apart. Remember I have just come from the
hospital.”

“That’s right! Boys, be careful,” admonished Phil. “We don’t want to
kill him with kindness.”

“Say, that puts me in mind of a story,” burst out Shadow, who had been
the one to encircle Dave’s waist. “A ragged newsboy went to a charity
picnic. One of the ladies kept on stuffing him with cake. Finally she
said: ‘Oh, Johnny, do have another piece of cake.’ Then Johnny turned
a woebegone face on her and replied: ‘Thank yer, Miss. I could chaw it
fur yer, but I couldn’t swaller it.’”

“We’ve got no time to listen to stories--only the one that Dave has to
tell,” burst out Ben.

“I’m glad to see you in service again, Buster!” exclaimed Dave, as he
caught the stout youth by the hand.

“We’ve both been through it, haven’t we, Dave?” was Buster’s reply,
with a grin.

“Here is where the Oak Hall boys celebrate!” cried Roger.

“You’ve said it!” responded Phil. “And thank fortune we’ve got
something to celebrate on,” he added.

“Phil and I went back to the nearest French town yesterday,” explained
Ben. “We took up a collection and came back with a whole lot of good
things to eat. We thought you would be along soon, from the word you
sent two days ago.”

“That’s fine!” replied Dave, his eyes beaming. It warmed his heart
to think of how his chums had remembered him. “Oak Hall forever!”
he exclaimed enthusiastically. And then he added, making a sudden
wry face: “Although I know one fellow who won’t subscribe to that
sentiment.”

“Who is he?”

“Show him to me, and I’ll pound the life out of him!”

“He must be some dirty sneak!”

“The fellow I mean is Nat Poole,” answered Dave, and then came another
outburst.

“Where did you meet that slacker?”

“Did they really make him come over to France after all?”

“Do you really mean to say you met Nat Poole?” demanded Roger.

“Yes. At the hospital where I was staying--just before I came away.”
And then our hero gave some of the particulars. He did not at that time
mention Lieutenant Max Gebauer except in a general way, for he did not
wish to drag Jessie’s name into the discussion which he knew would
follow.

“Gee, but that’s rich--Nat Poole getting whacked over the wrist with a
frying-pan!” chuckled Phil. “I wish I had been there to see it.”

“And fancy Nat pitching into the cook for having done it!” said Buster.
“I suppose he went up and shook his forefinger in the cook’s face
and said: ‘You naughty boy! You are real rude, don’t you know!’” he
mimicked, and at this there was a roar of laughter.

“Well, there is one thing certain,” remarked Ben. “The army will either
make a man of Nat or he’ll be about half-killed, even if he doesn’t get
shot.”

“Fancy Nat’s wanting to be an officer!” broke in Phil.

“I must say I am mighty thankful for one thing,” announced our hero.
“And that is that Nat didn’t attempt to join the engineers. I would
consider it an awful hardship to have him around all the time.”

“You never said anything truer than that, Dave,” returned Ben.

That night there was quite a celebration in one corner of the large
dugout where the company to which Dave belonged was quartered. All the
good things purchased by Phil and Ben in the neighboring French town
were brought forth, and it may be surmised that all the young engineers
did full justice to the “eats” set before them.

“This is almost like one of our old feasts at Oak Hall,” was Dave’s
comment.

“Only we haven’t got Big Jim Murphy to watch us,” said Buster.

“Good-hearted Jim!” cried Dave. “He sure did do us many a good turn. I
wonder where he is now?”

“Somebody told me he was in the heavy artillery, along with Luke
Watson,” answered Shadow.

“Speaking of the old Oak Hall boys, what has become of Polly Vane?”
queried Ben, referring to a youth of high intellectuality who, because
of his girlish appearance, had been nicknamed Polly.

“Polly is at the head of one of the big government offices in
Washington,” answered Roger. “I found that out through my dad, who
chanced to meet him there one day while on business. Polly, he told
me, is doing unusually well. It’s something connected with the war
department, so you can say that he is really in the war, too, even
though he isn’t on the firing-line.”

It was not until the next day, when Dave could catch Roger alone, that
he told his chum of what Nat Poole had said concerning Lieutenant Max
Gebauer. This brought on quite a talk, during which the senator’s son
told of what Laura had written on the subject of the young lieutenant.

“I always wanted to say something about that to you, Dave,” said
Roger; “but somehow I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I spoke to Phil
about it, and we concluded that it would do no good to worry you. I am
mighty glad that the matter is cleared up so far as you and Jessie are
concerned, and I know that Phil will be mighty glad, too.”

“I understand your feelings perfectly, Roger. Just the same, I think
you should have come to me in the first place. However, that is now a
thing of the past. What worries me is what Nat Poole said about a rumor
going around Crumville concerning Jessie and this lieutenant. If this
gets to Jessie’s ears, it will certainly hurt her feelings terribly.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“Maybe when she sent Gebauer off about his business he got miffed and
spread the report himself, just to get square with her. And for all I
know, Nat Poole may have had a hand in it, too.”

“If he did he ought to have a good pounding for it!” The senator’s son
thought for a moment. “I’ll tell you what I can do, Dave. I can write
to Laura and tell her what Nat Poole said, and then she and Jessie can
fix up some scheme whereby they can let folks in Crumville know that
there is nothing in the rumor.”

“Yes, that might help some,” and Dave’s face brightened a little. A
letter was written that very night by the senator’s son and posted
without delay.

Captain Obray was glad to see Dave back again, and praised him once
more for what he had done.

“As you know, Sergeant Porter, you have already been cited for bravery
for what you did for me and others during that battle,” said the
captain of the engineers. “In a few days I hope to be able to announce
something that will, I am sure, please you very much.”

Two days later came the announcement, which filled Dave with great
pleasure. The engineers were reviewed by one of the army generals, and
Dave, with a number of others, was asked to step forward, and then upon
the breast of the young sergeant was pinned a Distinguished Service
Medal--a round bronze disk bearing upon it an American eagle. The disk
rested on a ribbon having a white center with a narrow blue stripe on
each side and with red stripes at the ends. It may be mentioned here
that the Distinguished Service Medals are authorized by our President
for distinguished services in the present war.

“Dave, we’ve got to congratulate you,” said Roger warmly, after the
review had come to an end and he and some of the other engineers had
come around to gaze at the medal and admire it. “That is something you
can wear for the rest of your life with a great deal of pride.”

“I’m hoping to see each of you fellows get one of these before the war
is over,” answered the young sergeant. “I don’t know but what some of
you deserve them already.”

[Illustration: UPON THE BREAST OF THE YOUNG SERGEANT WAS PINNED A
DISTINGUISHED SERVICE MEDAL.--_Page 132._]

“We’re not all as quick-witted as you are, Dave,” remarked Buster. “We
may be willing enough to do a thing, but while we are thinking about
it you jump in and do it.”

“You’ve said it, Buster,” added Shadow. “It’s the quick-thinking and
quick-acting fellow who is going to get in the lead in this war, every
time.”

Shadow and Phil had something to tell Dave which further interested
the young sergeant. This was to the effect that they had had a chance
some time before to visit the place where Dave had once located a
hidden German ammunition dump. The two young engineers had made a long
search in that vicinity for Dave’s missing watch. They had found the
wrist-band to which the timepiece had been attached, but the watch
itself had been missing.

“Well, that proves one thing,” said Dave. “I certainly lost the watch
in that vicinity. And if it wasn’t in the band it must have either been
smashed by the explosion or otherwise some person must have picked it
up.”

Of course Dave had to write home concerning his medal, and he took the
occasion to send a long communication to Jessie, mentioning what Nat
Poole had told him concerning Gebauer. He added that he hoped the girl
would not suffer because of any rumor that might have been circulated
in their home town.

“Well, we have orders to get on the march again to-morrow morning,”
announced one of the sergeants to Dave two days later, following a
quiet Sunday, which Dave had spent in resting and in attending services
at a nearby Y. M. C. A. hut. At the services he had listened to a
good, straightforward sermon on the duties of a soldier, and there had
followed a number of the familiar religious songs in which the entire
congregation of engineers and others had joined heartily.

“I suppose we’re going up to the front again?” remarked Dave.

“More than likely. Although I haven’t any very definite information.”

“Did they say whether it would be trench work or road work?”

“Trench work, I imagine; although I’m not sure.”

Two days after that found the fighting engineers in a place that
was entirely new to them. Here a long line of trenches were under
construction by some other engineers, and they were sent in to give
assistance before opening up a roadway still further to the northeast.

The weather had been fairly good for some time, but now another storm
set in which made trench-digging anything but pleasant. However, it was
all a part of the game, as Dave remarked, and consequently he did not
complain. He wore his high trench boots and his rubber slicker, and
thus protected himself as best he could.

A large part of the trench work in that vicinity had been completed
before the fighting engineers arrived on the scene. They, however, were
set to work completing the interior of a dugout of large proportions, a
place located fully forty feet underground and covered with the trunks
of many trees.

“This certainly ought to be a safe place from any bombardment,”
remarked Phil, while they were at work.

Sixteen of the engineers were still down in the dugout, the others
having been ordered to the surface, when there came a cry of alarm from
a distance. Immediately following the cry came a roar of artillery, and
this was kept up for fully a quarter of an hour.

“Something is doing--that’s sure!” cried Dave. “I wonder if it is
possible that a battle is developing in this vicinity?”

“It certainly sounds like it,” answered Ben. “And it sounds to me as if
it was coming nearer every minute.”

“If it comes this way, maybe we’ll be in for another fight!” cried
Roger.




CHAPTER XIV

THE MACHINE-GUN NESTS


“The Huns are coming, boys!”

“Up and at ’em, fellows! Don’t give Jerry a chance to get anywhere near
us!”

So the cries ran up and down the trenches, mingled with several orders
and the cracking of rifles. Then the artillery, which had ceased for a
moment, began again, this time with increased fury.

“I think we had better get out of here, boys,” announced Dave. “Never
mind your tools. I guess all you’ll want just now will be your rifles.
We’ll go as far as the entrance to the dugout, anyway.”

As the dugout and the entrance to it were not yet completed, it was
no easy task to crawl up the wet and slippery slope leading to the
trenches.

As requested by him, the top sergeant of the company had been
transferred to another unit, and as Dave was next in rank to him, and
as no one had been as yet appointed to fill poor Lieutenant Harney’s
place, Dave was in command of the engineers left in the dugout.

It must be admitted that he felt his responsibility, the more so
because the sudden alarm above had cut him off from communication with
the first lieutenant or the captain. Some of the engineers attached to
the signal corps had been stringing telephone wires along the trench to
the dugout, but these were as yet not ready to be used.

As the engineers came up to the level of the trench above them they saw
some fierce fighting not a great distance away. A fairly large body of
German troops had come forward over a slight rise of ground and had
taken a position behind a natural ridge of rocks. Off to one side a
German machine-gun nest had been located, and from this the enemy was
pouring a constant fire toward the Americans.

“We’re in for it, all right enough!” cried Roger.

“Boys, when you use your guns make every shot tell!” cried Dave to his
little command. And then, of a sudden, he turned to face the crowd.
“Are you with me in trying to do a bit of hazardous work that may count
big for our side?” he questioned quickly.

“Sure we are!” cried Phil.

“You can count on me every time, Dave! You know that,” announced Roger.

“Show us what we can do, and we’ll do it,” was the way Ben expressed
himself. And the others shouted various words of approval.

A few military supplies had been brought down into the dugout by some
soldiers who had been ordered to leave them there for the present.
Among these supplies Dave had noticed a box of hand-grenades. He
immediately ordered two of his men to go below and bring the box up
with all possible speed.

“I am not quite sure whether we can reach that machine-gun nest with
these hand-grenades or not,” he said; “but, anyway, I think it’s worth
trying.”

“We can’t throw them from here,” said Phil.

“I don’t intend to throw them from here. I’ll show you what I have in
mind just as soon as the grenades have been distributed.”

It was an easy matter to break open the box and hand the grenades
around. Each man was supplied with four to six of the deadly
explosives. Then Dave, after another careful survey of the machine-gun
nest, ordered his men to follow him.

On arriving in that locality the young sergeant had taken time to look
over the ground carefully, noting the various trenches which were in
the course of construction. In doing this he had taken note also of
the lay of the land and had wondered what would happen if an approach
should be made by the enemy through a little rocky gully running off to
one side and which was all but hidden by some stunted undergrowth.

This gully, he had now noted with satisfaction, ran in an irregular way
toward the vicinity of the nest where the German machine-gunners were
operating their weapon with such telling effect against the Americans.
At one point where the gully made a sharp turn it was less than fifty
yards distant from the gun.

“I don’t believe I’ll need more than three or four men,” announced Dave
presently. “Who wants to go along?”

Every engineer wanted that honor, and all begged Dave not to leave them
behind.

“All right--you can all come along if you want to,” he announced, with
a grin. “We’ll give the Heinies a salute they will most likely never
forget.”

The young sergeant led the way along the trench to where there was an
unfinished portion, and there he halted his little party and instructed
them carefully.

“Just beyond the top of this trench at a distance of about ten feet is
the beginning of a gully which runs along between the rocks and bushes
for a long distance. It is very irregular in shape, and in some places
is much deeper than at others. We’ll have to crawl along slowly and do
our best to keep ourselves hidden. Otherwise the Huns may spot us, and
then it will be all over. Keep your guns ready for use in case any of
the Heinies show themselves. They may be in the gully already.”

With caution he raised his helmet on top of his rifle and held it
above the top of the trench. No rifle report followed, and he moved
the helmet along a distance of several feet, as if the man wearing
it were walking. But no shot came, and then without further delay he
crawled quickly over the top of the trench and made for the entrance
to the gully he had mentioned. Like so many snakes the other engineers
wriggled along after him.

It took fully a minute for the whole sixteen to reach the gully, and
during that time each man was fearful that the Germans would discover
and open fire upon them. But the battle was raging furiously at some
distance, and they fortunately were not noticed.

Once in the gully, they proceeded with caution. Dave was in the lead,
with Roger next and Phil and the others following. All crawled along on
their arms and knees, holding their rifles ready for instant use.

Presently Dave heard a sound ahead which brought him instantly to a
halt. It was the noise of a loose stone falling on a rock, and there
followed an exclamation of pain in German. Evidently the stone had come
down on somebody in that part of the gully just ahead.

The young sergeant motioned for those behind him to keep absolutely
quiet. Then, with his gun ready for immediate use, he moved forward
inch by inch until he could peer around a turn in the gully.

A German soldier was there, sitting on a rock with his back toward
our hero. In one hand he had a sandwich, consisting of rye bread and
a sausage, and the other a small bottle of native wine, and he was
evidently enjoying his lunch regardless of the battle going on all
around him. Dave looked beyond the German and saw that he was alone.

It would have been an easy matter for the young sergeant to have killed
this enemy then and there; but he could not bring himself thus to shoot
a fellow human being in the back, and besides he did not consider it
good policy to make any unnecessary noise in the gully. The success of
the task he had undertaken lay, largely, he felt certain, in advancing
in utter silence.

He motioned to Phil and Roger, and both understood. Then all three
advanced side by side and laid down their rifles.

The next instant Dave was on the German and with both hands had caught
him directly over the mouth, pulling him backward. Then Roger and Phil
leaped forward, one to kneel on the fellow’s breast and the other to
catch him by the legs.

The German was taken completely by surprise, and with his mouth full
of bread and sausage he came close to choking. He spluttered and
gasped, and then, seeing he was helpless in the hands of the Americans,
gasped out hoarsely: “_Kamerad! Kamerad!_”

“All right, ‘_kamerad_’ it is!” announced Dave in a whisper. “But you
keep quiet.” And to make the fellow understand he pointed to his mouth
and placed his hand over that organ of speech.

The fellow understood and nodded. His gun had rested across his lap, so
he was easily disarmed. Then Dave detailed two of the engineers to take
the fellow back to the American lines.

“And don’t let him make any noise while he is in this gully,” cautioned
the young sergeant.

“You bet your boots he’ll never let out more than one peep!” announced
one of the engineers who was to take the prisoner back. And, looking at
the prisoner, he pointed to the fellow’s mouth and then to the point
of his own bayonet, to intimate that if the fellow made any noise he
would be stabbed to death. But the German prisoner had no intention
of risking his life further, and he nodded vigorously to show that he
understood.

With this German thus disposed of, Dave and those remaining with him
again advanced, this time with increased caution, for if one German
had found his way into the gully others might do likewise, and the
engineers did not wish to be treated to a disagreeable surprise.

As they progressed it must not be supposed that they did not keep their
eyes and ears open for what was going on beyond the gully. Every few
feet they stopped to look up and peer between the rocks and the stunted
undergrowth which overhung the edges of the depression. Beyond this
hollow the landscape had been torn up and in many places swept clean by
the heavy artillery fire of that day and of days gone by.

Presently they came to another turn in the gully. Here there was a deep
depression, and they had to wade through water and mud up to their
knees. They were now getting closer to the German machine-gun nest, and
Dave motioned to his men to increase their caution and for each of them
to hold a hand-grenade ready for use.

At last they reached a point where it seemed impossible to go any
further. A shell had exploded in that vicinity and completely blocked
the gully. To advance farther would mean that they would have to crawl
out of the depression and around a small hill of dirt and sand left by
the exploded shell.

“I don’t know whether we can reach that machine-gun nest from here or
not,” Dave whispered to the others.

“What’s the matter with going over the top after that nest?” demanded
Roger.

“Do you want to do it?” questioned Dave quickly, turning to all of
those under him.

“Sure! Let us go over!” was the whispered answer. Not an engineer
wanted to hold back.

With more caution than ever Dave peeped out among the rocks and
calculated what might be the chances for success. While he was doing
this he made another discovery, which was to the effect that while
they had been slowly crawling up the gully another machine-gun of the
Germans had been located almost side by side with the first. Both guns
were popping away constantly, and evidently doing considerable damage.

“If they should turn their guns this way it would be all up with us,”
said the young sergeant. “So if we show ourselves we’ll be taking our
lives in our hands.”

“Well, what of it? Come on!”

“Don’t let us waste any more time. Those guns must be doing terrible
damage to our fellows.”

“Let us get busy with these hand-grenades right away.”

They were all enthusiastic, and Dave more so than any one else. His
eyes lit up with patriotic fire as he got a hand-grenade ready for use.

“All right, boys! If you say so we’ll go over the top and at ’em,” he
cried. “Get your grenades ready, but don’t throw until I give the word.
And then be sure to give it to the Heinies just where it will do the
most good.”

There was a brief pause, and then Dave leaped forth from the gully,
followed almost instantly by all of the others. Away they sped over the
ground in the direction of the machine-gun nests.

They had covered fully fifty feet before the Germans discovered them.
Then a yell went up and several shots rang out, the bullets whistling
over their heads.

“Now then--all together!” yelled Dave, and let fly with his
hand-grenade. The others hurled their explosives at the same time.

While two of the hand-grenades went wide of the mark and one other
failed to go off, the others came down directly in the midst of the
two machine-gun nests. There was a loud explosion, followed rapidly by
a number of others. The machine-guns were completely wrecked and the
bodies of the gunners were hurled in all directions!




CHAPTER XV

LIEUTENANT PORTER


“A hit! A perfect hit!”

“That’s the time we showed the Huns what we can do!”

“Say! do you know I believe we killed every Jerry in the bunch?”

So the cries and comments ran on as the fighting engineers surveyed the
havoc they had wrought. The hand-grenades had exploded with terrific
force, sending pieces of the machine-guns almost to where they were
standing. All the gun crews had been either killed or fatally wounded,
some of the bodies being horribly mutilated.

“It certainly makes a fellow sick to look at it,” murmured Dave to
Roger.

“So it does, Dave. But this isn’t child’s play. It’s stern war.”

The machine-gun nests had been seen from a distance, but the Yankee
soldiers had had no opportunity to get at them. Now the annihilation of
the nests was viewed with astonishment, which quickly turned to intense
satisfaction. A cheer went down the line, and then in a twinkling the
Americans came over at those who had advanced to lay them low.

The outbreak had been nothing but a skirmish at the start, but now it
was gradually growing into a genuine battle. Before night the fighting
line extended for over a mile and a half, and the conflict kept up long
after darkness had fallen.

Having accomplished his purpose, Dave ordered his command to retire.
They were just leaving the end of the gully to get back to the trench
when the young sergeant saw Captain Obray running toward him.

“What does this mean, Sergeant Porter? Where have you been?” called out
the captain of the engineers.

“We’ve just blown up two machine-gun nests, Captain,” answered Dave,
with pardonable pride.

“What? Were you responsible for those explosions we heard in that
direction?” and the captain pointed with his hand.

“Yes, sir,” answered Dave; and related some of the particulars. “I sent
Jackson and Meeks back with a prisoner.”

“Yes, I saw them with the fellow, but just then I had no time to ask
them the particulars,” answered Captain Obray. “You certainly have done
wonderfully well. Those machine-guns were doing terrible execution on
our boys. With those guns going, we could not have advanced at this
point.”

The captain then told Dave that he and the men under him must retire
along with the rest of the engineering unit.

“Two regiments of the regulars are coming this way,” he announced, “and
they can hold this ground a great deal better than we can. And besides
that, there will be plenty of work for us to do just as soon as this
battle comes to an end. Unless I miss my guess, we are going to make
quite an advance on Jerry;” Jerry being the name by which the Germans
were occasionally designated--why, no one could tell.

The advance and the retirement over the rough rocks of the gully had
been no easy task for the engineers, and all were glad enough to go
back to the shelter of the unfinished dugout. As they went down the
slope Dave paused just long enough to see a company of the regulars
come into view on the double-quick.

As said before, the fighting continued far into the night, and early in
the morning it was renewed and did not come to a stop until about the
middle of the afternoon. By that time the Americans had made an advance
along the line from a half mile to two miles deep; and once more they
began to dig in with all possible speed.

It was a night not easily forgotten by Dave and his chums. They had
had no supper, and to cook under such circumstances was practically
out of the question. They used their emergency rations, and about two
o’clock in the afternoon saw some of the kitchen details coming forward
with hot stew and coffee. These, along with chunks of bread, were
eagerly devoured by the hungry engineers.

“Well, we sure did make a record for ourselves in this battle,”
remarked Buster, when the fighting had come to an end. “We ought to get
some credit for smashing up those gun nests.”

“You’ll get it, don’t you worry,” returned Dave. “You just wait until I
make my report.”

The news soon circulated that Dave and his detail had been instrumental
in annihilating the two German machine-guns with their crews, and the
major of the engineering unit himself came down to the quarters to
praise the young sergeant and shake hands with every fellow who had
been with him.

“Captain Obray reported this, but I want more of the particulars,” said
the major. “It was grand! You are certainly helping us keep up the name
of the fighting engineers.”

Partial recognition of what Dave and those under him had done came very
shortly afterwards. All were cited for bravery, and those who had not
yet received medals did so, much to their satisfaction.

“I knew you fellows would get medals sooner or later,” declared Dave to
his chums, as he shook hands with them. “I tell you it takes the Oak
Hall boys to cover themselves with glory.”

“Yes, but it was your plan that we followed, Dave,” said Roger. “I
don’t believe anybody else would have thought of it.”

After that came two weeks of hard work, in the midst of which another
storm descended upon the engineers, making them miserable for a day or
two.

“But I don’t care,” announced Dave grimly. “We’re pushing right ahead,
and that means a whole lot. Anything to down the Huns!”

The next morning the skies cleared, and then the aviators began to get
busy. Dave watched them for a while, for flying always interested him
greatly.

“I think if I wasn’t an engineer I would like to be an airman,” he told
Roger.

“Exactly my idea, Dave. But we are engineers, and I suppose we’ve got
to stick to our jobs until the war is over.”

“I’m making a bet the war will be over by Christmas,” broke in Phil.

“Oh, I don’t believe the end will come so quickly as all that!”
cried Buster. “I think it will probably keep on until the middle of
next summer. By that time Germany will have come to the end of her
resources, and she will have to sue for peace.”

“I believe the Central Powers are worse off than we imagine,” said
Dave. “They are simply putting on a bold front, hoping by some manner
of means to bring us to terms.”

“Say, maybe they’ll come to terms like the girl did when the fellow
wanted to marry her!” cried Shadow. “At first she declared that she
wouldn’t marry him until he earned at least fifty dollars a week. He
was then getting twelve. A few weeks later he came to her and announced
that the boss had raised his wages to fifteen dollars. ‘All right,
Jack,’ said the girl. ‘Now that you’ve got your raise I suppose we had
better get married. Fifteen dollars is pretty near to fifty anyhow.’”
And at this there was a general laugh.

Two days later came word to Dave that thrilled him greatly. He received
a commission as a lieutenant of the engineers, while Roger and Phil
became sergeants and Ben was made a corporal.

“Allow me to congratulate you, Lieutenant Porter,” said Captain Obray,
grasping Dave’s hand warmly. “I think this gives me almost as much
pleasure as it does you.”

“It certainly makes me feel good, I won’t deny it,” returned Dave, his
eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “I thought I was going some to become
a sergeant. But to be a lieutenant of the engineers! I never dreamed I
would get that far when I joined.”

“I hope to see you get farther yet before this war is over,” said the
captain encouragingly, and then he went down the line congratulating
Roger and the others on their promotions.

“Well, I suppose we’ve got to bid you farewell now, Dave,” said Ben.
“As a commissioned officer, you won’t want to herd with us common
fellows any more.”

“Don’t you believe it for a minute, Ben,” was Dave’s quick reply. “Of
course, when we are on duty I’ve got to be your lieutenant, but when
I’m not on duty you can take it from me that we are going to be the old
chums we have always been,” and he caught his first boy friend by both
hands and looked at Ben in a manner that meant a great deal.

Of course, all of the engineers who had been promoted had to send the
glad tidings to those at home. Dave wrote a long letter to his father
and another to Jessie, while Roger penned like communications to his
folks in Washington and to Laura, and Phil did not forget his own
people and Belle Endicott, who was now visiting the Porters.

But as the sunshine had followed the storm, so a cloud came two days
later to mar our hero’s happiness. He received a letter from Jessie
which had been over two weeks on the way. In that the girl mentioned
the fact that some folks in Crumville were treating her rather queerly,
and that one girl in particular, on whom Max Gebauer had been in the
habit of calling, had made a rather odd remark. The girl’s name was
Benson, and of her Jessie wrote:

  “I met Mary Benson yesterday in one of the stores. She spoke about
  Lieutenant Gebauer and then suddenly looked at me and shrugged her
  shoulders and said: ‘I don’t suppose you hear from Dave Porter any
  more. You threw him aside rather suddenly, didn’t you?’ I demanded to
  know what she meant, but she only shrugged her shoulders and walked
  off. I felt as if I could have shaken her good and hard. I never did
  like her when we went to school together, and now I like her less
  than ever.”

Then the girl went on to admit that evidently some folks had got the
wrong impression concerning her and her intimacy with Gebauer. She
added that she and Laura were going to do what they could to straighten
matters out. By reading between the lines Dave was made well aware of
the fact that the girl he regarded so highly was having anything but
a pleasant time of it because of what the young jewelry manufacturer
from Philadelphia had done and said. And it was evident that Nat Poole
had backed up Gebauer as far as was in his power.

“It’s an outrage! That’s just what it is--an outrage!” declared Dave,
when he talked the matter over with Roger. “I just wish I could be back
in Crumville for a few days. I’d show those folks a thing or two.” The
idea of having his Jessie suffer was maddening.

“I don’t think you ought to lay it to the folks in Crumville,” returned
the senator’s son. “I think you ought to lay it to that Gebauer and
Nat.”

Now that Dave had been made a lieutenant of the engineers he resolved
to do everything in his power to make a creditable showing as a
commissioned officer. He studied his engineering textbooks and his
volumes on French and German at every opportunity. Nor did he hesitate
to go to Captain Obray and some of the other upper officers for advice
and instruction. This pleased the older men greatly, and they did all
they could to encourage our hero.

Some days later, when all was quiet in that sector, Dave obtained
permission to go to a French town about fifteen miles behind the lines.
He wanted to make a few necessary purchases, and as Roger and Phil also
wanted to buy some things they secured permission to go with him.

The three caught a ride a short part of the distance, and then walked
the rest of the way. They were just on the outskirts of the town when
they saw an American soldier ahead of them with a small French lad by
his side. The French lad, who was gaunt in appearance, as though half
starved, was lugging a large round bundle wrapped in old newspapers.

“Please, Monsieur! Please, I cannot carry the package any farther,”
wailed the boy in French, and he made a move as if to let the package
drop.

“Here, you! None of that!” cried the soldier, catching the boy by the
shoulder. “Go on with that, or I’ll give you something you won’t forget
very soon!” and he shook his fist in the French boy’s face and then
shoved him along.

“Hello! I wonder what’s the matter with that brute!” cried Dave, when
he saw this action. “It’s a shame to make a lad like that carry such a
big bundle.”

“And the poor little chap looks half starved, too,” was Phil’s comment.

“Come on! Let us look into this!” cried Dave. “No soldier has any right
to treat a French boy like that!” And he strode forward, never dreaming
of the surprise in store for him.




CHAPTER XVI

A PERSONAL AFFAIR


As Dave and his chums strode forward they saw the soldier ahead of them
give the gaunt-looking French lad another shove. This caused the poor
boy to lose his balance, and over he went in the roadway, falling on
top of the big bundle he was carrying.

“Hi, you bruiser, stop that!” cried Dave, coming up behind the
soldier and catching him by the arm. Then, as, rather startled by the
interruption, the fellow whirled around, he added in amazement: “Nat
Poole!”

“See here! what do you mean by grabbing me by the arm?” demanded the
son of the money lender of Crumville, as soon as he recovered from his
astonishment.

“Why, it’s Nat Poole!” exclaimed Roger.

“Who would have thought of meeting him here?” added Phil.

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself for treating a poor French boy
like this, Nat,” continued Dave, as he stepped forward and assisted
the fallen boy to his feet. The fellow looked much frightened, thus
confronted by four soldiers. Evidently he was afraid he had gotten
himself into serious trouble. He did not understand what was being said.

“I guess I’ve got a right to hire a boy to carry a bundle for me,”
grumbled Nat.

“Did you hire him?” demanded Dave.

“I don’t know as that’s any of your business,” was the blustering
response.

“Did he hire you to carry the package for him?” questioned Dave of the
boy in the best French he could command, which, it may be said here,
was far from good.

“That soldier made me carry the bundle. He makes motions like he would
beat me if I did not do it,” answered the boy, with a shiver.

“He won’t touch you; so don’t be afraid,” said Dave, and then he looked
calmly at Nat.

“See here, Dave Porter! what right have you to come and butt into my
private affairs?” growled Nat.

“As a commissioned officer of the army I am bound to see to it that the
inhabitants around here are properly treated,” answered Dave. And if he
said this rather sternly I think he may be pardoned for so doing.

“A commissioned officer? Humph, you’re only a sergeant! I don’t see how
you got into that uniform.”

“Lieutenant Porter was made a lieutenant some time ago,” said Phil.
“And you had better mind yourself, Nat, or you’ll get into trouble.”

“So they made you a lieutenant, did they?” queried Nat; and it was easy
to be seen that he was envious of Dave’s promotion. “Funny the luck
some fellows have!”

While this talk was going on the boy had been edging farther and
farther away from the Americans. Now he suddenly took to his heels,
running off as if for dear life.

“Now see what you have done!” grumbled Nat. “I wanted that boy to carry
this bundle into town for me.”

“What’s the matter with carrying it yourself, Nat?” suggested Roger.
“You are more able to do it than that poor half-starved kid.”

“Humph! I wasn’t brought up to lug bundles,” grumbled the money
lender’s son.

“Is it your own?” questioned Phil.

“No! It belongs to our captain. He detailed me to take it into town for
him.”

“If he did, he must have done it as a punishment for you,” returned
Dave quickly. He well knew that privates were often punished by their
superiors for slight infringements of the regulations by having
disagreeable duties assigned to them. He himself had seen unlucky
engineers set to work carrying bundles, cleaning up in camp, and even
peeling potatoes and onions for weeks at a time.

“Never mind why I was carrying the bundle. I can’t see that it’s any of
your business, even if you are a lieutenant.”

“I won’t argue the point, Nat; but in the future you take my advice and
leave the poor French boys alone.”

“Oh, say! you fellows make me tired,” growled the money lender’s son.
And then, grabbing up the bundle which still lay in the roadway, he
turned his back on the others and stalked off.

“Say, Dave, I think you ought to report him,” was Phil’s comment.

“Oh, let it go, Phil,” was the quick reply. “If I, as a lieutenant,
reported Nat, he would claim that it was nothing but a personal matter
between us. I don’t want to take advantage of my position when it comes
to dealing with somebody I have known for years. I would rather fight
it out on my own hook, so to speak.”

“Oh, I understand your feelings, Dave--I’d feel that way myself.”

“If you reported Nat he would make a great hullabaloo and say you were
simply trying to show your authority,” said Roger. “Just the same, I am
glad we caught him and came to the rescue of that boy. We want all of
the inhabitants here to realize that we are their friends and intend to
treat them with perfect fairness.”

The three chums soon reached the town, Nat Poole having gone in ahead
of them. Dave made his purchases, and Roger and Phil got what they
wanted, and then they walked around to see the sights. This town had
been under bombardment several times, and while a portion of it was
still in fairly good condition, many of the buildings had suffered, and
at the end of one of the streets the demolition was complete.

“Just think of having lived here while those bombardments were going
on!” was Dave’s comment, as they paused in front of one of the
buildings, a rear corner of which was still standing.

“It must make the French people heart-sick to come back and find their
homes nothing but heaps of rubbish.”

“And to think that the Germans carried off nearly everything of value,”
put in Phil.

“Never mind, Phil, some day we’ll make them pay the whole bill,”
returned Dave. “The only thing we can’t make good is the loss of life.”

They walked around for over an hour, for this was the first chance
they had had to look over this particular town. During the winter at
the front they had had an opportunity to go back to two other ruined
places, but at that time the ruins had been covered with a thick
mantle of snow, so that they had seen comparatively little.

Walking along one of the streets, which was still piled high with the
debris of the last bombardment, Dave and his chums had occasion to walk
under what remained of a bridgeway running from one building across the
road to another.

“It’s queer that bridge wasn’t knocked down by the bombardment,”
remarked Roger, as he surveyed the ruin left on all sides.

“Some of these old stoneworks are remarkably substantial,” returned
Dave. “The engineers of those days certainly knew their business. Under
ordinary circumstances a bridge like this will last for thousands of
years.”

They came out on the other side of the bridge and here paused to look
around again. Then, as Dave happened to glance upward, he gave a sudden
cry of alarm:

“Look out there!”

As he spoke there came down on their heads a perfect shower of dirt,
consisting mostly of pulverized lime and cement. Then, before they
could move, another shower of the same stuff descended upon them.

“Great Cæsar! do you suppose those buildings are going to fall?” cried
Phil. Some of the dust had got into his eyes, temporarily blinding him.

“No, nothing is falling,” answered Dave quickly. “That stuff came from
the top of the bridgeway and was thrown down on us.”

“Hi there! Stop that!” yelled Roger, and then repeated his words in
French.

“I saw somebody’s arm, and that arm was dressed in khaki,” said Dave
quickly. “I believe that stuff was thrown down by some of our soldiers.
I am going up there to investigate. Come along.”

To get up on the bridgeway was not difficult. They had to pass into
what was left of one of the houses and then make their way up a rather
rickety pair of stairs. Then they passed over a shaky floor and through
a doorway leading to the bridge.

As they did this, Dave, who was well in advance, caught sight of two
figures in khaki--those of a private and an officer. The two had been
laughing boisterously, but now, as Dave and his chums came up on the
bridge the others started away from them. But the far end of the bridge
was blocked by the ruins of the building beyond, and the fleeing ones
had to come to a halt.

“It’s Nat Poole, just as I thought,” said Dave to his chums.

“Who is that fellow with him?” questioned Roger.

“I’m not quite sure, Roger, but he looks like Gebauer.”

[Illustration: THERE CAME DOWN ON THEIR HEADS A PERFECT SHOWER OF
DIRT.--_Page 161._]

“So it is! I recognize him now. Well, what do you know about this!”

In another moment the two parties were confronting each other. Nat
looked rather sullen, while Lieutenant Gebauer put on a front as if
the affair did not concern him in the least. Of course the engineers
saluted, and Gebauer did likewise.

“Nat, did you throw that stuff down on top of us?” demanded Dave.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” was the low reply.

“Yes, you do,” put in Roger quickly, and going forward he grabbed Nat
by the arm.

“Roger Morr, you let me alone!” howled the money lender’s son, a trifle
frightened.

“This is Lieutenant Gebauer, I believe?” remarked Dave, a bit stiffly.

“You are right. And you are--?” and here the lieutenant paused.

“I am Lieutenant Porter. I think you ought to remember me.”

“Oh, yes; I remember you now. You come from the same town that Poole
does,” said Gebauer slowly.

“I suppose both of you thought it was a good joke to throw that dirt
down on us?” continued Dave, eying the other lieutenant squarely.

“Oh, soldiers have got to have a little fun, you know,” said Gebauer
coolly, and, taking a cigarette from a case, he started to light it.

“It’s no fun to throw lime dust around,” growled Phil, who was still
rubbing his eyes. “For two pins, Nat Poole, I’d give you the thrashing
of your life.”

“There will be no fighting done here!” cried Lieutenant Gebauer sternly.

“Perhaps you had a hand in this, Lieutenant?” said Dave quickly.

“Ha! do you accuse me, Porter?” and the other officer drew himself up
proudly.

“I know there were two lots of that stuff came down on our heads. Did
Poole throw both of them?”

“No, I didn’t!” was the quick reply. “I--I--” and then Nat stopped.

“I don’t see why you should make such a row over a little fun,”
remarked Gebauer, puffing away at his cigarette. “It’s dull enough
around here. We’ve got to stir things up a little.”

“Well, after this when you stir things up, you keep away from me,” said
Dave coldly.

“Do you mean that as a threat, Porter?”

“I mean that as a warning.”

There was a moment’s pause, and twice Lieutenant Gebauer made a move as
if to speak. But then he merely shrugged his shoulders and flipped the
ashes from his cigarette.

“Life is too short to quarrel, Porter,” he remarked finally. “Have it
your own way.”

“I intend to have it my own way.” Dave stepped a bit closer. “I believe
you know well enough, Lieutenant Gebauer, that I have a little personal
account to settle with you. But that can wait. Just the same, I want
you and this cowardly young fellow here to understand that you have got
to keep your distance. Otherwise there is going to be real trouble for
both of you.”

“See here! You--you--can’t--er--threaten me like this!” stammered
Gebauer, not knowing how to proceed.

“Come on, boys; I’ve had my say,” said Dave to his chums, utterly
ignoring the splutterings of Gebauer. Nat was mumbling something under
his breath, but what it was, nobody understood.

Then Dave and his friends left the bridge and the ruins around it and
went on their way.




CHAPTER XVII

AT THE TRENCHES


The following week was such a busy one for Dave that Lieutenant Gebauer
and Nat Poole were practically forgotten. The engineers were moved
somewhat to the north of the position they had occupied, and were there
set to work at their usual task of building roads and bridges.

“One thing is certain,” said Dave, one day when he and the others had
knocked off for dinner. “Whatever ground our soldiers have taken they
have managed to keep.”

“Oh, we don’t know how to retreat,” returned Phil, with a grin.

“I understand some new troops are coming to the front here,” said
Roger, who had just returned from the other end of the roadway they
were constructing. “I met a corporal I know slightly, and he was
telling me about them.” And he mentioned the number of the regiment.

“Why, Roger, that’s the command to which Nat Poole belongs!” cried Dave.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes; I took particular notice. And Gebauer belongs, too. In fact, he
is a lieutenant of Nat’s company.”

“Well, I’m mighty sorry to hear that they are coming anywhere near us,”
was Phil’s comment, and he looked thoughtfully at our hero as he spoke.

“I am sorry, too, in one way,” answered Dave promptly. “As soon as Nat
Poole shows himself there is bound to be some sort of trouble.”

“And what about that Lieutenant Gebauer?” questioned Roger. “I know
well enough you’ve got it in for him, Dave.”

“If Dave has, it’s because Gebauer deserves it,” remarked Phil.

“Oh, if he doesn’t bother me I won’t bother him,” answered our hero.
“Just the same, if I get a chance I’m going to let him know I am aware
of how he acted in Crumville, and that I don’t give him any credit for
causing Jessie trouble.”

The weather now was all that could be desired, and the work of building
roads and bridges progressed rapidly. On some of the bridge work
there was considerable planning to be done, and Dave had to spend a
good many hours over some blueprints. But he had the satisfaction of
accomplishing what he had set out to do, and received some warm praise
from Captain Obray.

“I knew it was in you, Porter,” said the captain heartily. “You are
certainly a natural-born civil engineer. I predict after this war is
over that you’ll make quite a hit with the Mentor Construction Company
or some other big concern.”

During those days Dave sent several letters home and received one
communication, this time from Caspar Potts. The old professor wrote in
a very trembling hand, and the communication consisted of less than a
dozen lines. But brief as it was, it went straight to our hero’s heart.

“Dear old man!” he murmured, after he had read the letter several
times. “If ever there was a good old soul in this world, that soul is
Caspar Potts.” And he closed his eyes for a moment as a vision passed
through his mind of the white-haired and trembling professor sitting
in the Wadsworth library, adjusting his gold-rimmed spectacles to pore
over one of his precious volumes.

The new troops to come to that vicinity arrived three days later while
the engineers were hard at work. The company to which Nat Poole and
Lieutenant Gebauer belonged were located in one of the second-line
trenches, and immediately proceeded to make themselves as much at
home as possible. Most of the soldiers took all the inconveniences
good-naturedly, but the son of the money lender of Crumville did his
usual share of grumbling.

“It’s a rotten place to stay in,” was Nat’s comment. “I don’t see why
they can’t have the engineers fix up some really good quarters for us
fellows.”

He was speaking to Gebauer at the time. Although Gebauer was a
commissioned officer and Nat was only a private, the two, for some
unknown reason, were very friendly. They had many tastes in common, and
always acted chummy when no one else was present.

“Well, don’t blame me, Nat,” replied the lieutenant, bringing out his
cigarette-case and supplying himself. “Have a cigarette. Maybe that
will help you forget your troubles,” and he gave a sickly grin.

“I wonder how much longer this war is going to last.”

“That remains to be found out. Personally, I think the Germans are
going to give us the fight of our lives,” continued Gebauer, in a
somewhat lower voice.

“Don’t you think we can lick ’em?” demanded Nat.

Lieutenant Gebauer shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not doing any thinking
along those lines. I’m simply obeying orders. I guess we both know what
we think of this war, anyhow,” and closing one eye he looked at Nat
suggestively.

“We sure do! It was a howling shame to drag us over here, three
thousand miles from home, to fight,” grumbled the money lender’s son.

“Sh-sh! Don’t talk so loud, Nat,” murmured the lieutenant warningly.
“If anybody heard you, you’d get into hot water.”

“I don’t care! It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Every word. I’d rather be back home right now than here. I think I
could make a barrel of money out of our business in spite of the war.
And what am I getting out of this? A measly lieutenant’s pay!”

“Humph! you get a pile more than I do as a common soldier.” Nat looked
at his companion slyly. “I guess you’d like it first rate to be back in
Crumville again with Jessie Wadsworth, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, I don’t know. That would depend on how she treated me.”

“You two didn’t get along very well during the last few days of your
stay, did you?”

“Oh, we got along well enough. But I’ve got to be going now. There is a
whole lot I’ve got to do,” continued the lieutenant hastily, and then
walked away.

“I’ll bet you got the cold shoulder somehow,” murmured Nat, gazing
after the retreating officer. “Just the same, I’m sorry you didn’t get
in with Jessie, and put a spoke in Dave Porter’s wheel.”

Two days later one of the working units of the fighting engineers was
sent back to do some work on one of the trenches, part of which had
caved in, blocking up the entrance to a dugout. Dave was in command of
the men, and, as it happened, the dugout which had suffered was the one
in which Gebauer and a number of other officers were quartered. Gebauer
was in very ill humor, for his cot and some of his extra clothing had
been covered with a shower of dirt and stones.

“That was a fine way to build a dugout,” he grumbled in Dave’s hearing.
“If I couldn’t do better than that as an engineer, I’d resign,” and he
looked directly at our hero.

“These trenches and dugouts were not made by our unit,” returned Dave.
“Just the same, I consider they were built as well as circumstances
permitted. These are only temporary quarters, as you know. And such
an accident as this is liable to happen any time. We’ll cut down some
saplings and limbs and shore this up, and fix some of the stonework,
and then it will be as good as ever, or better.”

“Humph! maybe it will be,” grumbled Gebauer, and turned his back on the
engineers.

This was the beginning of new trouble with not only Gebauer, but Nat
Poole also. Both of these unworthies showed plainly that they did not
like Dave or his chums at all, and they did everything they possibly
could to annoy our hero. Of course, as a private, Nat was somewhat at
a disadvantage, but Gebauer invariably tried to show his authority,
especially when the higher officers were absent. He attempted to
dictate to Dave, and this brought on a very animated discussion.

“See here, Lieutenant Gebauer,” said the young engineer finally, “you
tend to your business and I’ll tend to mine. I know what my duty here
is, and you have no authority to interfere with it.”

“Oh, you don’t have to ride a high horse, Porter,” growled Gebauer.

“I am not riding a high horse. If I were doing that, I would probably
tell you a few things that you would hate to hear.”

“What about?” demanded the other hotly. They had walked down one of the
trenches and were out of hearing of the others.

“Well, if you must know, about the way you made a fool of yourself in
Crumville. I have had the particulars of how you acted, and I must say
you played the part of anything but a gentleman.”

“Do you mean to insult me?”

“I am not going to try to do that, Gebauer. It would probably be too
much of a job.”

“Say, I guess you don’t know who you are talking to!”

“I do know. And if you think you can intimidate me, you are mistaken.”

“My, but you are getting on your high horse!” sneered Gebauer. “I must
say you are showing your poorhouse training.”

“What’s that?” and now a sudden flash of fire came into Dave’s eyes and
he caught the other lieutenant by the arm.

“You let go of me, Porter!” and Gebauer shrank back in sudden alarm.

“I won’t let any one talk to me like that,” said Dave, firmly.

At that moment came an unexpected interruption. There was a call from
above the trench, and several officers appeared, including the major
of the command to which Gebauer belonged. Those below at once saluted,
and there the sudden quarrel came to just as rapid a termination. But
Gebauer glared bitterly at our hero as the latter took his departure.

This meeting upset Dave for the rest of the day--so much so that he
could hardly attend to his duties. Phil and Roger, as well as Ben,
noticed this, and during their time off in the evening he told his
chums of what had occurred.

“Gee, Dave, it’s a wonder you didn’t smash him in the face when he
talked to you like that!” cried Ben.

“I felt like doing it, Ben; and it was all I could do to control
myself,” returned our hero. “But you know what the regulations are
about fighting, especially here at the front.”

“Just the same, this Gebauer ought to be taught a lesson,” was Phil’s
comment.

“I don’t see why they made such a fellow as that a lieutenant,” came
from Roger. “It’s a shame, with so many good men around!”

“I don’t think Gebauer will get much higher in the army,” said Dave.
“If he treats the men under him as he has treated us, sooner or later
they will all hate him.”

“Do you know, he looks to me as if he might be sort of pro-German,”
remarked Ben thoughtfully.

“Well, one thing is sure--” began Dave, when a sudden alarm broke out
which ended the talk right then and there.

The alarm was followed by a sudden burst of artillery, which soon
increased in intensity, while the night was lit up by the flare of
rockets and “flaming onions,” as they were called.

“I wonder what that means!” cried Shadow, as he came running up to the
others.

“I think it means some sort of a fight,” answered Dave. “But whether we
are going to attack or the Germans, remains to be seen.”




CHAPTER XVIII

THE GERMAN PRISONER


There was fighting that night all along the line, but nothing in the
way of a battle developed and the engineers did not participate in
the contest any further than that they were called on to repair some
bridges along the roadway where the shell-fire of the enemy made
several telling hits.

“The Huns are certainly showing some strong resistance to our advance,”
remarked Roger, while the bombardment was going on.

“Oh, I shouldn’t be surprised if they contested every foot of the
ground,” returned Dave. “They thought they were going to walk right
into Paris, and it makes them more than mad to be driven back this way.”

“One thing is certain,” said Phil. “These old Hindenburg trenches are
marvels of completeness.”

“I heard of one German dugout that was fitted, out like a first-class
hotel, with a bath and even a billiard-table! Those high muck-a-mucks
certainly take care of themselves.”

“Yes, and they take mighty good care that they are not hit, too!” added
Ben. “They let their common soldiers take all the hard knocks. You very
seldom hear of anybody connected with the royal families getting even a
scratch.”

Early in the morning there was a sortie on the part of one of the
American battalions. They had located some Germans hidden in a patch of
wood, and after some fierce fighting succeeded in surrounding a part of
the enemy and making them prisoners. A little later these fellows, to
the number of thirty, with a lieutenant and a sergeant, were marched to
the American rear.

At the time the prisoners were brought in, Dave and his detail were at
work on the roadway which the prisoners and those in charge of them
used. Along this roadway was also stationed the company of soldiers to
which Lieutenant Gebauer and Nat Poole belonged.

As Dave went about his duties he passed Gebauer and Nat several times.
Both of them glared at him, but no words passed. However, five minutes
later Dave saw Nat approach the lieutenant, and an earnest conversation
followed. Both looked several times toward our hero, and Dave felt
certain that the pair were talking about him.

“And it’s dollars to doughnuts they are not saying anything very nice,”
mused our hero. “Probably they are plotting as to what they can do to
get the better of me. I suppose I had better keep my eyes open as long
as they are around.”

A little later he had occasion to give Phil and Ben some directions,
and the latter called Dave to one side.

“I suppose you’ve noticed that Nat Poole and Lieutenant Gebauer are
around?”

“Yes indeed! I have passed them several times, Ben.”

“I went by them, too, and I heard your name mentioned. I believe they
are hatching up something.”

“If I were you I wouldn’t stand any nonsense from either of them,” put
in Phil.

“I don’t intend to!”

“Don’t you think you had better report them?”

“No; I intend to fight this out alone. Of course, if they do anything
that is too outrageous, I’ll have to mention it to those higher up.”

A few minutes later it was announced that the German prisoners were
coming, and, as was customary, all the Americans in that vicinity lined
the roadway to get a look at those who had been captured.

For the most part the prisoners appeared a silent and thoughtful crowd.
A few of them were decidedly sullen, as if ready to break out at any
moment, and these the guards watched closely, for it was remembered
that on one occasion a prisoner had suddenly gone violently insane,
killing one of his captors and then inflicting injury on himself from
which he had later died. On another occasion several prisoners had made
a wild dash for liberty but had been shot down before they could get
any great distance.

When the prisoners came up close to where Dave and his chums were
standing, the officer in charge for some reason or other called a
temporary halt. Then began a good-natured gibing between the soldiers
on both sides, a few of the Americans being able to talk German and one
or two of the prisoners answering in broken English.

Dave was looking over the brought-in men and noting how starved and
ill-clad they were when he became interested in one man who was gazing
with wide-open eyes at the Americans. Following this man’s gaze, Dave
saw that the prisoner was looking intently at Lieutenant Gebauer.

“Gebauer! Max Gebauer! What are you doing here?” called out the German
in his guttural language.

At the mention of his name Lieutenant Gebauer gazed at the prisoner,
and Dave felt certain that he started as he did so. Then, with swift
steps, Gebauer came to the prisoner’s side. There was a low exchange of
words which Dave could not catch, even had he known the German language
better than was the case. Gebauer looked much annoyed, while the
prisoner’s features betrayed great astonishment.

A short argument ensued, but in the midst of this the American
lieutenant suddenly put up his hand and motioned for the prisoner to
keep quiet. Then, as he stepped back, he made other motions as if to
draw a wallet from his pocket and count out imaginary bank-notes. Then
he placed a finger across his lips, turned and walked away.

Roger, Phil, and Ben, as well as Dave, saw all of these actions, and
were of course tremendously interested. They realized at once that
Gebauer and the German prisoner were well acquainted.

“It’s as plain as day that Gebauer wants that fellow to keep his mouth
shut about something,” remarked Phil, when the prisoners had resumed
their march to the rear.

“Yes. And it’s equally plain that he proposes to pay the fellow for
doing it,” returned Dave.

“What do you suppose it is all about?” came, with a puzzled look, from
Ben.

“I’m sure I don’t know,” answered the young lieutenant.

“I wonder if it’s possible that Gebauer is some sort of a spy and that
soldier knows it,” mused Roger.

“Anything is possible, Roger. But that fellow may be nothing more than
some business acquaintance. More than likely the Gebauer Jewelry
Company had a connection in Germany previous to the war--a great many
of those German-American firms had. That fellow may be nothing but a
business friend.”

“But why would he make a motion as if to pay him money and motion to
him to keep his mouth shut?” questioned Phil.

“Maybe Gebauer doesn’t want folks generally to know he had a German
connection,” said Ben.

“Don’t you think this ought to be reported?” questioned Roger.

“I’ll speak to Captain Obray about it,” answered Dave. “And then I am
going to see if I can’t get a chance to talk to that German prisoner.”

“Can you talk enough German to do it, Dave?”

“I can get an interpreter.”

Our hero lost no time in mentioning what he had seen to Captain Obray,
and that afternoon obtained permission to visit the place where the
German prisoners were being kept that night. This was in a barbed-wire
compound hastily laid out for that purpose by some of the engineers.

Dave had taken a good look at the German who had spoken to Max Gebauer,
and he had little trouble in picking the fellow out from the one
hundred and twenty men who filled the wire enclosure. He took Roger
with him, and also one of the engineers who could speak fairly good
German.

He found the prisoner to be a man of about forty, tall and thin, with
light hair and watery blue eyes. When questioned he gave his name as
August Besswig, and said that he had been a bookkeeper for a large
manufacturing firm in Frankfort.

“Ask him how it is that he happens to know a man by the name of Max
Gebauer,” said Dave to the interpreter.

When this question was put to the prisoner he looked rather disturbed
and then shrugged his shoulders.

“Max Gebauer? Who is he?” he returned after a pause.

“He is the man you were speaking to on your way to this camp,” said the
interpreter, after some words with Dave.

“Oh, that man! I don’t know him very well.”

“How do you happen to know him at all?” was the next question put.

“Well, it’s this way, if you must know. Some years ago I worked for a
large jewelry firm in Germany. We did business with the Gebauer firm in
America. That is how I got to know Mr. Max Gebauer. He used to come to
our place once a year or so on business.”

“Did he come after the war broke out?”

“He was there when that happened, but he got out very quickly,”
answered August Besswig.

After that he was questioned at some length regarding Gebauer, but made
evasive answers. It was evident that he knew something about Gebauer
which he did not wish to mention, but what it was there was no telling.
At last Dave had the interpreter bring the interview to an end.

“That German prisoner is a foxy one,” was Roger’s comment. “I believe
he could tell a great deal if he wanted to.”

“That’s exactly my idea, too,” answered Dave. “One thing is certain, he
and Gebauer have something in common.”

“Exactly, Dave. And the next question is--has that to do with the
present or the past?”

“Oh, I’m inclined to think it has something to do with the past,”
replied Dave. “From what I can find out, this Besswig is nothing but a
private soldier who was forced into the army. That being so, it is not
likely that he would have anything to do with Gebauer if the latter
were up to some shady work for the Government. I think it concerns
something that took place in the past, and it looks to me as if it was
something which Gebauer wants this Besswig to keep quiet about.”

Dave thought he might have another interview with the prisoner later;
but on the following day August Besswig was marched off to a camp
twenty miles distant and he had no opportunity for further talk with
the fellow. He tried to keep an eye on Gebauer, but his duties as an
engineer prevented this, and consequently he did not know an important
fact, which was that two days later Gebauer got a twenty-four-hours
leave of absence and hurried off to find out what had become of August
Besswig and to go to see the prisoner.

When Gebauer came back to camp he was in both a thoughtful and an ugly
mood. He smoked one cigarette after another in a nervous manner, and
then interviewed Nat Poole.

“Your friend Porter seems to be a pretty fresh sort of individual,”
grumbled the lieutenant, as he paced up and down in front of Nat.

“Don’t call him a friend of mine, Max,” was the quick reply of the
money lender’s son. “I like him about as much as I like a hop-toad.”

“He’s doing his best to get me into trouble,” continued Gebauer.

“Why, what has he done now?” questioned Nat, with sudden interest.

“Oh, a whole lot of things. Do you remember those prisoners that came
in a few days ago?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I happen to know one of those fellows very slightly--a fellow
who was connected with a jewelry concern in Germany with which our
concern in Philadelphia used to do a little business.

“Well, Porter saw me say a few words in a friendly way to that fellow,
and he at once had the prisoner interviewed and did his best to make
out that I had some sort of a German connection. Of course, he’s doing
his best to get me in Dutch with the military authorities!” stormed the
lieutenant.

“Well, he didn’t find out anything to your disadvantage, did he?”
questioned Nat.

“Of course not! How could he? I haven’t done anything wrong!”

“Well, then, what are you afraid of?”

“What am I afraid of? Don’t I know the kind of fellow Dave Porter is?
He wouldn’t like anything better than to cook something up with that
prisoner so as to get me in bad. I know him! I’ve a good mind to fix
him!”

“Let’s do it!” Nat’s eyes began to shine with expectancy. “I’d like
nothing better than to put one over on him. He’s getting altogether too
big for his boots. Now that he is a lieutenant, he thinks he can lord
it over everybody. I suppose when he gets back to Crumville he’ll put
on airs something fierce. According to the stories he’ll tell, he’ll
have been the one to win the whole war.”

After this the two continued their conversation for the best part of
an hour. Both were exceedingly bitter against Dave, Nat on account of
the many things which had happened ever since he had gone to Oak Hall,
and Gebauer because of the way he had been given the cold shoulder by
Jessie Wadsworth.

“If you are game to do it, Nat, I think we can put a good big one over
on Porter,” said Gebauer at last. “Of course, it will require a little
nerve to do it.”

“What do you propose to do?”

“Oh, that isn’t exactly clear in my mind yet. But I’ll hatch out
something before long. But how about you? Are you willing to stand by
me?”

“Sure I am! Unless, of course, you should want to go too far,” answered
Nat Poole, his natural cowardice suddenly asserting itself.

“Oh, we won’t go too far. We’ll only do something that will get him in
bad with those higher up. Then maybe he’ll be placed in disgrace, and
possibly reduced to the ranks.”

“Gee, that sounds good to me!” cried Nat. “Let’s go and do it!”

“Then you’ll work with me?”

“I sure will! And the sooner you get at it, the better.”




CHAPTER XIX

AT THE BROOK


The great World War which had now raged so furiously for four years was
rapidly approaching its climax. The Germans had been driven from the
vicinity of Paris, they had suffered their great defeats on the Marne
and at Verdun at the hands of the entente Allies, and now the American
troops had beaten them back at Château Thierry and other points, while
the Italians were hammering the Austrians mercilessly in the mountains
of upper Italy.

In the meanwhile there had been naval battles in the North Sea and the
Mediterranean, and the extraordinary submarine campaign of the Germans
had proved to be more or less a failure.

Our soldiers were coming over the Atlantic as fast as our transports
could carry them, and what was equally important, we were sending
immense quantities of food, ammunition and other supplies to those who
were fighting this tremendous war with us.

With the Americans and their Allies thus pushing the Germans back
at every available opportunity, there was plenty of work for the
engineers. More than once Dave and those under him found themselves
working ten and twelve and even fourteen hours on a stretch, and doing
this in places which were as dangerous as they were uncomfortable.
More than once they were out when it was raining furiously, and on two
occasions after an early breakfast they got nothing more to eat until
nightfall.

“If anybody thinks being an army engineer is a cinch, he’s got another
guess coming to him,” remarked Ben one evening, after an extra hard
day’s labor.

“You never said a truer thing than that, Ben,” returned Phil. “Gosh!
how my back does ache!”

“I know what I’m going to do,” put in Roger. “I’m going bathing. There
is nothing that refreshes me half so much as a bath after a hard day’s
work.”

“I think I’ll go with you,” said Dave. “I saw a dandy spot to-day,
while we were fixing that bridge.”

“And that’s just the place I had in mind,” said the senator’s son.

When there was a favorable opportunity the engineers often took a
little time off to go bathing in one of the rivers or brooks that was
handy, taking care, of course, to select only a place where the water
was clean and pure--not an easy thing to do in a locality where so many
dead bodies of soldiers were to be found.

Dave and all of his chums from Oak Hall formed the party which went
bathing. They had found a tributary to one of the larger streams, and
this was fed mostly by springs. The water was consequently quite cold,
but was absolutely pure, and for this they were thankful. They lost no
time in disrobing, and then one after another plunged in.

“I’m going up the stream a way and do a bit of exploring,” said Ben
presently, and sloshed along through the water and over the rocks.
And presently one after another followed until only Dave was left
behind. He was more interested in getting a good bath than in doing
any exploring, and, sitting down on a rock in the water, he proceeded
to make himself just as much at home as though he was in one of the
bathtubs at the Wadsworth mansion.

Although Dave did not know it, the departure of the Oak Hall chums for
the bathing-place had been noticed by Nat Poole, who chanced along at
that particular time. Walking through the brushwood, Nat presently
approached the place where the young engineers had gone in bathing.

“Gee, I guess here is a chance to play a good trick on those fellows,”
observed the money lender’s son, with a sickly grin.

Not far from where Nat was standing rested Dave’s uniform and his other
garments. Watching his opportunity, when Dave was not looking in that
direction, Nat leaped forth from behind the bushes and gathered up the
things in his arms.

The rascal might have escaped undetected had it not been for a mishap
which overtook him when he least expected it. With the uniform and
other things piled high in his arms he could not see where he was
stepping, and suddenly one foot went down in a crevice between the
rocks, and he pitched headlong.

The noise Nat made was not great, but it was sufficient to attract
Dave’s attention, and looking in that direction he saw in an instant
what was occurring.

“Hi, you! Drop those things!” he cried, and then, leaping up, he made a
dash for the bank of the stream.

Much startled, Nat Poole arose to his feet. He had now no longer any
desire to take the garments, his one thought being to get away without
being recognized. So far Dave had not seen his face and now he did what
he could to hide his features.

But the young lieutenant did not intend to allow the would-be joker
to escape thus easily. Thinking it might be somebody from his own
command, he leaped quickly over the rocks and caught Nat by the arm
just as the latter was trying to worm his way into the bushes.

“Nat Poole!” he ejaculated, as he brought the soldier around with a
twist of the arm. “So this is what you are up to, eh?”

“Aw! it was only a joke,” pleaded the money lender’s son.

“You were going to run away with my uniform and all the rest of my
things!”

“Didn’t I say it was only a joke? Can’t you take a little fun, Dave
Porter?”

“I don’t like that kind of fun, Nat Poole! I would have cut a fine
spectacle if you had gotten away with my clothing. You just come along
and explain yourself;” and thus speaking, Dave dragged the unwilling
soldier out from the bushes and down to the side of the stream. Then he
let out a low but well-known whistle, to which his chums immediately
responded, that having been the “get-together” call at Oak Hall.

“Hello, it’s Nat Poole!” cried Phil.

“What are you doing here, Nat?” questioned Roger.

“I just caught him trying to steal my things,” explained Dave.

“I wasn’t going to steal ’em!” stormed Nat. “I was just going to hide
’em behind the bushes.”

“He’d have gotten away with them if he hadn’t stumbled,” continued our
hero. “I heard the noise, and I was just in time to grab him.”

“He ought to be reported for that,” said Ben.

“Humph! that’s just like you fellows--report a fellow just for having a
bit of fun.”

“I don’t think I’ll take the trouble to report you, Nat,” answered Dave
coolly. “It isn’t worth it. But after this, I want you to keep your
distance. If you don’t, you’ll get something that you won’t like.” And
having thus delivered himself, Dave gave Nat Poole a vigorous shake and
then gave him such a shove that he stumbled backward several steps and
then went flat on his back in some low brushwood.

Such vigorous treatment aroused all of Nat Poole’s ire, and scrambling
to his feet he rushed toward Dave.

“You’re not going to treat me that way!” he bawled. “I won’t stand it!”
And then he shoved his fist under our hero’s nose.

This was too much for Dave to stand, and disrobed as he was, he leaped
at the money lender’s son, knocking the fist to one side and then
delivering a stinging blow which took Nat squarely in the chin, causing
him to stagger back several paces.

“Now you go on about your business, Nat Poole!” he said sternly. “And
you remember what I told you!”

“You just wait, Dave Porter! I’ll fix you yet!”

“Nat, shut up and do what Dave told you,” put in Roger. “You are the
meanest pill that ever came out of a box. Go on!” and he waved his hand
threateningly.

“You are a disgrace to the uniform you are wearing,” added Phil.

“Oh, sure! There is no use of my talking, with all of you against me!”
grumbled Nat. “Just the same, I’ll get square some day, you mark my
words!” And having thus delivered himself, Nat Poole slunk away and was
soon lost to sight in the brushwood.

“How I would like to have a fellow like that for a brother,” remarked
Shadow sarcastically.

“His father must be proud of him,” was Buster’s comment.

“He and his father are two of a kind,” explained Ben. “At the start of
the war they were both slackers. The only member of the family that is
worth while is Mrs. Poole. She has done a lot for the Red Cross and
other war organizations, and I am mighty sorry that she has to put up
with such folks as Nat and Mr. Poole.”

“You’ll have to keep your eyes open, Dave,” observed Phil. “Nat will
do his best to square accounts, and he’ll probably get Gebauer to aid
him.”

“It’s a pity Nat doesn’t try to make something of himself while he is
in the army,” observed Dave. “He has just as good a chance as any of
us.”

“It isn’t in him,” said Buster. “You can’t build a marble palace out of
mud.”

“Oh, say! Speaking of mud, puts me in mind of a story I heard
yesterday,” cried Shadow. “Three Americans were in the end of a trench,
and they were completely surrounded by Germans. They were out of
ammunition and didn’t know what to do. The trench was full of mud and
water, and as the Germans came down to make them prisoners the three
Americans grabbed up some buckets which were handy, filled them with
mud and water, and let the Germans have the dose full in the face. Then
they leaped out and ran for their lives. One of them was killed, but
the other two got away.”

“They certainly took chances,” answered Dave; “but that’s the American
style.”

Making his way through the brushwood, Nat Poole presently came out on
the forest road, and then lost no time in hurrying back to camp. He was
in anything but a good humor, and his face showed it.

“Well, Nat, why the thunder-cloud look?” queried Lieutenant Gebauer,
when he saw his crony.

“Oh, I had another run-in with that Dave Porter,” growled the money
lender’s son. “Say, that fellow makes me tired all over!”

“I don’t think he makes you any more tired than he does me,” said the
lieutenant, bringing out his ever-present cigarette-case and lighting
up.

“I thought you were going to think out something by which we could get
square with him?” continued Nat. “I know what I’d like to do!”

“What?”

“I’d like to disgrace him! And say, Max, if we could get him disgraced
maybe Jessie Wadsworth wouldn’t have anything more to do with him, and
that would give you a chance.”

To this the lieutenant did not reply at once. He blew a ring of smoke
into the air, took another puff, and threw the cigarette on the ground.

“I might as well tell you,” he said finally. “I’ve been watching Porter
every opportunity I get. Sooner or later our chance will come. When it
does, I want you to be ready to act with me.”

“I told you before that I would do that.”

“I happened to hear some conversation yesterday that put me to
thinking,” pursued Lieutenant Gebauer. “The engineers are going to move
in a day or two. They are going to lay out a road in the vicinity of
some abandoned coal or iron mines. I rather think they’ll have their
headquarters in the mines, just as the Germans were quartered there
when they were in that vicinity.”

“Well, what if they do go to those mines?” questioned Nat.

“I think it’s a pretty lonely sort of region around those mines,”
returned Gebauer. “And that being so, we may have more of a chance to
get at Porter. If he went off to explore any of the mines--or anything
like that--we might get a chance to follow him. Anyway, I am going to
keep my eyes wide open at every opportunity. And I want you to do the
same. We’ll never catch him unless we watch him like a cat watches a
mouse.”

“Gee, if only we could get the best of him!” sighed Nat. “I’ve wanted
to do it ever since we went to boarding-school together.”

“The time will come, don’t worry. Sooner or later, Nat, we’ll get Dave
Porter just where we want him. And when that time comes--well, he had
better look out for himself, that’s all!” concluded Lieutenant Gebauer.




CHAPTER XX

ATTACKED IN THE DARK


“These old mines must have been worked for all they were worth.”

“That’s the way it looks to me, Roger. And yet I’ve no doubt that with
up-to-date mining methods they might get a good deal more out of these
places.”

“Oh, I know that, Dave. Modern mining machinery has accomplished
wonders for the mines in the United States.”

About a week had passed since Dave had had the quarrel with Nat Poole
at the brook, and during that time the engineers had been moved forward
to the vicinity of the abandoned mines mentioned by Lieutenant Gebauer.
Here they were busy repairing the roads which had once been used by
the Germans and left by them in a most deplorable condition. Trees and
huge masses of rocks blocked the way and great masses of abandoned wire
entanglements had been strung around wherever it was thought they would
impede the progress of the Americans.

It was bad enough to get rid of the rocks and the trees, but it was
even worse to dispose of the wire. Much of this was rusty, and they
had to be very careful how they handled the stuff for fear of being
scratched and getting their clothing torn to ribbons. Even as it was,
the most substantial of the uniforms worn by the engineers did not last
very long, and had to be replaced.

The abandoned mines were spread over a large area, and because of the
war were in such condition that only a small portion of the various
passageways were used by the Americans. The engineers had their
quarters in one long passageway, which some one had named The Subway,
while some of the infantry were quartered not a long distance off in
what was known as The Tube.

These quarters were, as the chums had agreed, perfectly safe from
bombardment by the enemy. But they were rather damp and chilly, and
were invaded by hordes of mine rats with which the troops had constant
battles.

“My gracious! I don’t know but that the rats are just about as bad as
the cooties,” cried Phil, one day after one of the rodents had run over
him while he was trying to take a nap.

“Don’t say a word about the cooties!” Ben returned, scratching his back
on one of the upright posts in the mine. “I never thought I was going
to be subject to anything like this when I joined the army.”

“Oh, forget it and look pleasant!” cried Dave, who sat on a box mending
a shirt by the light of a candle. He, too, had had his dose of these
little pests, which seemed to have descended upon all the armies like a
plague.

Two things were in the engineers’ favor--the Germans seemed to have
withdrawn from that vicinity and the weather remained unusually fine.
At night there was a full moon which bathed the country for miles
around in beauty.

Dave had put in a hard day’s work, and in addition had been asked to
go on an errand by Captain Obray, who had left an important notebook
at one of the headquarters he had visited. This notebook the young
lieutenant was now carrying in one of his pockets.

“If it wasn’t for those guns banging away in the distance one would
never know a war was on by looking at such a scene as this,” remarked
Dave, on this evening, as he walked toward the mine entrance with Roger
and some of the others.

“It certainly is beautiful,” was the reply of the senator’s son.
“Almost too nice to retire. Wish we were at Crumville with the girls.”

“I think I’ll stay out a while,” went on Dave. “I’ve got nothing
particular to do. Do you want to take a little walk with me?”

“I’ve promised myself to write a letter to my folks, Dave.”

“And I’m going to write a letter, too,” added Phil. “Belle complained
the last time that my letter was very short. This time I’ll make it
long enough, believe me!”

“I wrote two letters yesterday; so I think I’ll take a little walk,”
said Dave. “I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

His chums retired into one of the openings of the abandoned mine, and
Dave turned to walk along a trail which led through the woods. Here at
one point between a number of rocks, he had located a spring of pure
water and he thought to get a drink.

The moonlight filtering through the trees made many objects appear
rather ghostly, but, as my old readers know, Dave was not one to scare
easily, and he walked onward at a brisk pace. Of course he kept his
eyes and ears wide open, for he had no desire to be surprised. He did
not carry a gun, for in that vicinity there seemed to be no use for
firearms.

Although he knew nothing of what had been plotted by Max Gebauer
and Nat Poole, Dave, since coming to the abandoned mines, had been
constantly watched by those two unworthies. Now Gebauer noted with
great satisfaction that Dave was taking a walk by himself in the
semi-darkness. He at once sped away to notify his crony.

“Come on, Nat! Now is our chance,” he said in a low voice.

“What do you mean?”

“Dave Porter is taking a walk by himself in the woods.”

“What do you propose to do?”

“Let us follow him. Maybe we’ll get a chance to square accounts.”

“I don’t see what we can do if he is just walking in the woods,” said
Nat. “Of course, we could both jump on him and give him a good beating.”

“Something may develop. Come on before he gets out of sight.”

Nat was willing, and side by side the pair hurried off in the direction
our hero had taken.

Reaching the spring, Dave procured a drink of water, refilled his
canteen, and then proceeded on his way. The road led up to the top
of a small hill, and here he thought he might get a good view of the
surrounding country in the moonlight.

While on the way Dave paused once or twice to look around him. When he
did this Gebauer and Nat lost no time in dropping flat on the ground
just as if they were making a night sortie into No Man’s Land. As a
consequence, our hero did not become aware that he was being followed.

When Dave reached what he thought was the top of the hill he was rather
surprised to find himself among some rather rough rocks and a large
quantity of loose stones and dirt. Then he made a discovery, which
filled him with wonder. A series of nest-holes for artillery had been
constructed on the top of the hill, evidently by the Germans. But there
were no evidences of field-pieces having been used there, so Dave came
to the conclusion that the enemy had changed their plans after the
nests had been made.

There were eight of the openings, and having walked to the last of them
the young engineer made another discovery. Here there was a wide trench
running downward into a cave-like opening. What was beyond, he could
only surmise.

“It looks to me as if that slope leads down into some part of the
abandoned mines,” he told himself. “This is worth investigating. I’ll
have to report to the captain and we’ll have to see what it looks like
in the daytime.”

In the moonlight the opening underground looked quite forbidding,
and Dave did not venture very far into it. He did, however, examine
the ground as closely as possible to see if he could find any recent
footprints. But nothing of the sort came to light. Evidently no one had
been in that vicinity since the last rain, which had occurred more than
a week before.

As our hero was bending over to make sure that there were no traces of
footsteps around this entrance to the abandoned mines, the notebook
which Captain Obray had entrusted to him slipped from his pocket,
falling between some of the loose rocks.

“Hello! it won’t do for me to lose that notebook,” Dave told himself.
“I should have delivered it before I went on this walk.”

Dave had just straightened up with the notebook in his hand when he
suddenly became aware of two figures close behind him. Each was armed
with a heavy stick, and before he could make a move to defend himself
he received a stinging blow on the head. He gave a cry of pain, and
then two other blows descended upon him and he knew no more.

Having assaulted him in such a dastardly fashion, Gebauer and Nat stood
over their victim for several seconds expecting him to make some sort
of move. But as he did not, the youth from Crumville became alarmed.

“Gee! you don’t suppose we knocked him out, do you?” he whispered
hoarsely.

“Certainly not,” answered Gebauer coolly. “He’s partly senseless,
that’s all. He’ll come around presently.”

“That was an awful crack you gave him on the head!”

“I didn’t hit him any harder than you did, Nat.”

“You did so! I only gave him a slight tap, and you hit him hard twice.”

“See here! You can’t put this off on me,” said the lieutenant fiercely.
“Just the same, I don’t think he’s hurt very much.” He bent over and
took a look at Dave. “He’s breathing all right.”

“Well, I’m glad of that!” returned the money lender’s son, with a sigh
of relief.

While he was speaking Lieutenant Gebauer had picked up the notebook
which had again fallen between the rocks, and placed it in his pocket.

“What’s that?” demanded Nat.

“I don’t know. I’ll have to examine it when we get to the light. Here,
Nat, take hold of him.”

“What are you going to do.”

“Let us place him in that opening yonder. There is no use of leaving
him out here in the open.”

“But he might drop down into the mine if we place him too near one
of the shafts,” remonstrated Nat. He was beginning to get a little
frightened over what had been done.

“What do we care if he does drop down?” answered the other brutally.
“Come on, before he comes to his senses.”

“I don’t want to go too far into this,” whined Nat. He was feeling more
and more uncomfortable.

“You promised to see it through, and you’ve got to do it,” declared
Lieutenant Gebauer. “Come! Catch hold!”

Between them they carried Dave into the cave-like opening. Then, as
Nat retreated, fearing that our hero would recover consciousness and
recognize him, Gebauer lit a match and took a survey of the situation.
Only a few feet away was a slope leading down to unknown depths. The
fellow who had tried to become Dave’s rival in the affections of Jessie
Wadsworth hesitated for an instant and then pushed our hero’s body
toward this slope. Then he gave it another shove, and suddenly saw the
body go turning over and over down the slope and out of sight into the
darkness.

“There, I guess that will fix you, Dave Porter!” he muttered to
himself. “You’ll have one sweet job getting out of that hole. I hope it
takes you several days to do it. And if it does, I think it will be an
easy matter to spread a report that you ran away simply to have a good
time in one of the French towns behind us.”




CHAPTER XXI

IN THE ABANDONED MINES


“Where in the world am I and what happened to me?”

This was the first thought that coursed slowly through Dave’s mind as
he gradually returned to consciousness. He lay perfectly still, not
moving for several minutes.

All was pitch dark around him, and by the way his whole body hurt he
knew he had been tumbled over some rocks. He put his hand to his head
and found quite a swelling there. Then his fingers traveled to his left
temple and felt something sticky, which he knew was blood that had
started to congeal.

Presently a faint recollection of what had occurred crossed his mind.
He remembered stooping to pick up the notebook belonging to Captain
Obray and then catching a flitting glimpse of two figures behind him.
Then had fallen several blows upon his head, and he had gone down in a
heap.

“Maybe they were a couple of Germans who attacked me,” he reasoned.
“Perhaps I am their prisoner.”

But then he remembered something else, which was that even in that
passing glimpse of his assailants he had noted that they wore khaki and
not the grey of the enemy.

“They were two of our own fellows,” he told himself. He knew he had
no enemies among the engineers, and his mind at once reverted to
Lieutenant Gebauer and Nat Poole. Would they be mean enough to make
such an attack?

“It doesn’t seem possible! And yet, if they didn’t do it, who did?” was
our hero’s thought.

But now was no time for further speculation on the subject. Dave felt
that he must find out where he was and do what he could to get back
to the engineers’ quarters. He did not know how long he had been
unconscious, but thought it must have been for some time, possibly an
hour or two.

He lay on some sloping rocks, and it was not without considerable
difficulty that he arose to his feet. As he did this he felt in his
pocket for Captain Obray’s notebook and discovered that it was gone.

“I remember now I didn’t have time to pick it up,” he told himself.
“Hang the luck, anyway! If those fellows went off with that notebook,
what will the captain say? He told me it was very valuable. I suppose
it must have some of our specifications in it.”

Dave had brought neither a weapon nor a pocket flashlight with him.
He, however, had a waterproof match-safe, and this was about half full
of matches. Bringing one of these forth, he struck it on the rocks with
care, and then, as the small light flared up, he took a look at his
surroundings.

He was in a long, low passageway of the abandoned mines. To one side
of him was a V-shaped opening. One passageway of this opening was very
rocky and at one point had a sudden descent of ten or twelve feet. The
other passageway sloped upward at considerable less of an angle.

“I guess I must have come down that passageway on the right,” he
reasoned, “because if I had come down the other way more than likely I
would have broken my neck.”

Dave was mistaken in his reasoning, and that mistake cost him dear,
as we shall presently see. He had really come down the rougher way of
the two, and that he had not lost his life in the fall was certainly
miraculous.

The young lieutenant counted his matches and found he had seven left.

“I’ll have to be very careful of those,” he told himself. “It would be
awful to be lost down here in the dark. Why, if that happened I might
never find my way out!”

This possibility caused him to become very grave and thoughtful, and
without lighting another match he crawled upward along the passageway
which he had noted and which he thought must be the way by which to get
out of that part of the abandoned mines.

With nothing to guide him, our hero’s progress was necessarily slow. He
had to feel ahead every foot for fear of knocking his head on some of
the rocks.

But even though his matches were few, Dave would have done better
had he lit one of them and surveyed his surroundings again before
proceeding further. As it was, he was just thinking of coming to a halt
to make up his mind what was best to do next when suddenly his foot
came in contact with nothing more substantial than air. He made a wild
clutch to save himself, but the next instant slid down and down over
some rocks and loose dirt, coming finally to a halt with a shock that
knocked nearly all the breath from his body.

“Great Cæsar, that was some tumble!” he muttered, after he had somewhat
recovered. “I’ve got to make a light, and that is all there is to it.
If I don’t, I may break my neck down here.”

In his pocket Dave kept a packet of letters which he had received from
Jessie. He could not bring himself to think of burning the letters,
but took each out of its envelope and stowed them safely in his bosom
once more. Then he tore the envelopes apart, and made of each a long,
curled taper. Having done this, he lit one.

He discovered what had happened. At some time or other, probably while
the mines were in operation, a shaft had been cut from one gallery to
that at a lower depth. This shaft was a sloping one, and he had rolled
down to its bottom.

To get back to the upper level did not look easy, and after Dave had
tried it several times he looked about for some other means of getting
out of the abandoned mines.

Presently our hero reached a point which filled him with encouragement.
He came out upon a much larger passageway, and there saw the remains of
a small railroad track, one which had evidently been used for mine cars.

“This track must lead out into the open air,” he reasoned. “I remember
seeing one of the tracks around the mines the first day we came to this
vicinity.”

Alongside of the track Dave found some bits of wood and dried brush,
and he lost no time in fixing himself a sort of torch by tying some of
the brush to a stick with a bit of string he chanced to be carrying in
his pocket.

Armed with the torch, he set off along the mine track and followed this
for a considerable distance. Then he came to where the track branched
in two directions, and once more came to a halt. Which track to pursue
he did not know, and consulting his pocket compass did not help him in
solving the problem. Finally he concluded to follow the track on the
right, and so continued his journey underground.

He had gone but a short distance when he came upon a decidedly gruesome
object. This was the body of a dead German soldier huddled up in a
heap among the rocks. The fellow had been dead for some time, probably
weeks, if not months, and our hero lost no time in putting distance
between himself and this awful reminder of the realities of war.

At last he felt he ought to be near one of the openings of the
abandoned mines. The track was now much broken, and a short distance
further came to an end at a point where several other galleries crossed
that in which he was traveling.

“Here’s a fine state of affairs,” he murmured to himself. “Now what’s
to be done?”

It must be admitted that Dave was growing somewhat alarmed. The blows
on the head and the tumble he had taken a short while before had
weakened him, and he could hardly keep his feet.

He opened his canteen and took several swallows of water, and also
bathed his forehead. This refreshed him for the time being; and he
moved on again, this time taking a passageway which pointed southward.

“If I keep on moving southward I’m bound to get out of this old mine
sooner or later,” was the way he reasoned. “And I’ll be coming out
somewhere in the vicinity of our quarters.”

But the passageways of the abandoned mines were by no means straight,
and soon our hero became so mixed up that he did not know which way to
turn. He tried to get back to the gallery where the track was located,
thinking to follow it in the opposite direction. But now the track had
vanished completely.

At last he had to sit down and rest. He wondered if it was still dark
outside.

“If I only had my watch to tell the time by,” he mused. He had not yet
replaced the timepiece which had been lost.

The day’s work and the subsequent events had so exhausted our hero that
at last he concluded he had better lie down and rest. As he progressed
he had picked up several sticks of wood and some more dry brush, and
this he placed beside him so that he might have it ready for use if
needed. Then by the dying flare of the torch he was using he managed to
arrange something of a couch at the side of the gallery, and there lay
down. He thought he would not be able to sleep, but after lying there
for the best part of half an hour he dropped off into troubled slumber.

When the young lieutenant awoke it was still as dark as ever around
him. He lost no time in fixing himself another torch, and, feeling
hungry, ate a portion of the emergency ration he carried, washing it
down with a few swallows of water.

As he advanced he noticed that the passageway he was following sloped
gradually upward, and this gave him some encouragement.

“If it keeps on going up it certainly ought to come out into the open
air sooner or later,” was the way the young officer reasoned.

He had gone but a short distance further when a sound came to his ears
which filled him with surprise. There was a sharp bark, followed by
several others.

“Dogs--or else foxes!” he exclaimed.

The sounds came closer, and holding up his torch Dave made out the
forms of two lean and hungry-looking dogs. At first he thought they
might belong to some Red Cross contingent, but soon threw this idea to
the winds.

“They are just stray dogs, and pretty wild and hungry at that,” he told
himself. “I wish they hadn’t come this way. I don’t like their looks at
all.”

The dogs had evidently scented him, and now they came closer, barking
furiously and showing their teeth. Evidently they, too, were lost
underground, and most likely had not had food for some time.

“Get out of there, you beggars!” cried Dave, as the dogs came still
closer, snapping and snarling at him.

He stuck out his torch, and both animals leaped back. But then they
began to circle around, as if to attack him from the rear. This was a
new peril, and one which Dave realized might prove grave. The dogs were
large, and if really starving they might do their best to lay him low.

With the torch in his left hand, Dave gathered up a stone and threw it
with all force at one of the beasts. It took the dog in the side, and
he leaped back, yelping with pain. Then Dave threw another stone at the
other dog, catching him in one of his forelegs. Then he made a leap as
if to thrust the torch into the dogs’ faces, and in sudden panic the
two animals turned tail and fled down one of the galleries of the mine.

Having thus got rid of the dogs, at least for the time being, the young
lieutenant continued on his course. He kept his eyes open for more
brushwood, or anything with which he might make a torch, but without
avail. He lit the last stick he was carrying with a heavy heart. What
should he do when that was consumed?

An hour later found our hero in anything but a satisfied state of mind.
He had traveled one gallery after another of the abandoned mines, and
hardly knew how to turn or what to do next. The idea of being thus
buried underground was horrible. Then, of a sudden, came a change. He
reached a turn of a passageway, and far ahead saw a streak of light.

“An opening at last!” he cried joyously, and his heart gave a bound of
delight. He fairly ran forward, so eager was he to get out into the
open air once more.

And then almost before he realized it the unexpected happened.

Dave found himself close to one of the openings of the abandoned mines,
but at a point which was a long distance from the quarters of the
engineers. Although he did not know it, he had traveled for several
miles under the hills in that vicinity.

“Who goes there?” shouted a voice in German; and a minute later the
young lieutenant found himself surrounded by half a dozen of the enemy.




CHAPTER XXII

LOOKING FOR DAVE


“I wonder why Dave doesn’t come back?”

“He must have taken quite a walk, Roger.”

“I should think, Phil, that he would be too tired to go very far; we’ve
had quite a strenuous day, if you’ll remember.”

“I don’t have to remember! My back keeps reminding me of it all the
while,” said the shipowner’s son. “I’ll tell you what--being a working
engineer in the army is no fool of a job!”

The two chums had finished the letters they had spoken of writing,
and along with several of the others were taking their ease in that
portion of the abandoned mines which had been turned over to them for
quarters. Not far away Ben and Buster were sitting beside a small nail
keg, playing a game of checkers on a home-made board with some French
coins for men. Close at hand sat Shadow, telling one of his innumerable
stories to some of the other engineers.

“What do you say if we go out and meet him?” remarked Roger, after a
pause.

“Suits me,” responded Phil. And a moment later they were on their way.

Outside the moon still shone brightly, so that objects could be seen
for quite a distance. They looked up and down the path through the
trees, but, of course, saw nothing of the young lieutenant.

Presently an officer approached them who proved to be Captain Obray.

“Out a little late, aren’t you?” said the captain pleasantly, as they
saluted. “I thought all you fellows were pining for sleep after such a
hard day’s work.”

“We came out to look for Lieutenant Porter,” answered Roger.

“I’m looking for him myself,” said the captain in some surprise.

He was after the notebook which our hero had promised to get for him.
This notebook contained several plans and specifications which were
of importance. The captain had left the notebook at headquarters, and
knowing that Dave had gone there to make a report, had requested him to
get it.

“He came out for a walk, leaving us to write some letters,” remarked
Phil. “But he ought to be back by this time, unless he went a long
distance, and I shouldn’t think he would do that after such a day’s
work.”

“Have you any idea which way he took?”

“He didn’t say anything about it, but I rather imagine he walked up
through the woods to that spring we located there,” answered Roger. “If
you don’t mind, Captain, we’ll go up there and take a look around.”

“I’ll go with you,” answered the captain. And then he added suddenly:
“I don’t know but what it might be well for you to take your guns
along.”

“Do you think there are any Germans in this vicinity?”

“It’s possible. They may be sending out some night raiding parties, you
know, through some openings of the mines.”

The two young engineers ran back to their quarters and soon returned
armed. The captain carried his pistol; and thus the three walked
through the woods until they reached the spring. Here they saw where
some of the water had been splashed around on the otherwise dry rocks,
showing that somebody had been there not so very long before.

“It’s too bad we can’t call him,” said Phil. But this was against the
regulations, no loud cries of any kind being tolerated during the
night. Had they given such a cry it would have been taken at once for
an alarm, and this would have caused a commotion throughout the entire
camp.

The three walked on past the spring and presently came close to the
hill up which Dave had climbed. But here they saw no evidences of the
missing lieutenant, and at last turned back to their quarters.

“I must say, Captain, I don’t like this at all,” said Roger.

“Neither do I, Sergeant. Unless Lieutenant Porter went off on some
special mission, it looks to me as if something bad may have happened
to him.”

“Do you think the Germans would dare to come so far behind our lines?”

“They might if they thought they saw a chance of capturing some of our
men. It’s bad to have so many mine openings around.”

“Oh, I hope Dave hasn’t been captured!” cried Phil, in dismay.

With heavy hearts the three returned to their separate quarters. As
soon as Captain Obray had left them, Roger and Phil acquainted their
chums with what had occurred.

“Dave missing! You don’t mean it!” exclaimed Ben, and his face showed
his concern.

“What in the world do you suppose could have happened to him?” asked
Buster.

“If any of the Heinies are on a raiding party we had better get
prepared for them,” was Shadow’s comment.

They talked the matter over for fully an hour, but without arriving at
any satisfactory conclusion. The disappearance of Dave worried all of
them a good deal, and it was a long while before any of them got to
sleep, Roger and Phil being unusually restless.

“Gee! if the Germans have captured Dave, however are we going to tell
his folks?” was the way the shipowner’s son expressed himself.

“And how are we going to tell Jessie Wadsworth?” added Roger. “Oh, it
just makes me sick to think of it!”

All of the young engineers were up at an early hour, and they readily
received permission to go on a hunt for their missing chum. Captain
Obray, however, cautioning them to be careful and not expose themselves
needlessly to the enemy.

The search for Dave lasted the best part of the morning. During that
time they visited not only the vicinity of the spring, but also
came close to the spot where the young lieutenant had been knocked
senseless. But they saw nothing which threw any light on what had
occurred.

“Beats the Dutch what has become of him!” sighed Ben, after they had
walked up and down through the woods and along the hills in that
vicinity.

“Looks almost as if the earth had opened and swallowed him,” said
Buster.

“Say! do you suppose it’s possible he broke through to one of the
openings of the mines?” questioned Phil.

“That might be possible, Phil,” answered Roger. “Just the same, if
it did happen, it’s queer we don’t find some evidence of it. If Dave
went merely for a walk, it isn’t likely he left this path, and we have
searched every foot of that several times.”

Much discouraged, the young engineers returned to the camp and made a
report to their superiors. Captain Obray shook his head seriously.

“It certainly looks bad,” he mused. “I’ll have to list the lieutenant
as missing.”

The others did not feel much like going to work, but there were a
number of things that had to be done. The news soon spread throughout
the entire engineering camp, and Frank Andrews and a number of others
who had known Dave intimately were much affected.

“He wouldn’t go away like this on his own account,” said Andrews.
“Something undoubtedly happened to him.”

“And that something couldn’t have been anything good,” returned Roger.

As soon as the young engineers were through with their work for the
afternoon they started on another hunt for Dave, this time being
accompanied by Frank Andrews and several of the older engineers. Every
foot of the woods in that vicinity was gone over, including a portion
of the hill which Dave had ascended.

“Here are some footprints,” said Frank Andrews presently, as he pointed
to some marks in the soft soil near where Dave had been thrown down.

They examined this locality with great care, and presently Phil picked
up a uniform button.

“That shows one of our men was up here,” declared the shipowner’s son.
“It’s an American button.”

“It may be one of Dave’s,” answered Frank Andrews, after looking the
button over.

They soon came to the opening down which Dave had been shoved. But here
nothing greeted their eyes which looked suspicious.

“It’s possible he may have slipped down into just such a hole as that,”
remarked Roger.

“But why should he? No fellow would do it with his eyes wide open,”
said Ben.

“But it was night-time,” suggested Shadow.

“That’s true; but it was moonlight. And besides, if Dave slipped into
any place like that, I’ll bet he would soon pull himself out.”

There seemed nothing more to do, and with hearts that were heavier than
ever they returned to their quarters.

On the following day Phil went out on an errand which took him past
the infantry command to which Gebauer and Nat Poole belonged. He saw
Nat sitting on a fallen tree. The money lender’s son looked anything
but cheerful. Phil at first thought of passing the young soldier, but
suddenly wheeled around.

“Hello, Nat!” he called out, as pleasantly as he could.

“Hello, yourself!” was the surly response.

“Say, Nat, have you heard the news about Dave Porter?” questioned Phil.

“What are you talking about? I haven’t heard anything,” answered the
money lender’s son in a nervous, high-pitched voice.

“Dave went out the other evening for a walk, and he hasn’t returned. I
don’t suppose you have seen or heard anything of him?”

“I haven’t seen anything of Dave Porter! I don’t know anything about
him!” Nat’s manner showed his agitation. “Why should you come to me
about him?”

“Oh, I thought you might be interested. His disappearance is worrying
us a good deal.”

“Humph! Perhaps he got scared and deserted.”

“You know better than to talk that way, Nat,” replied Phil sharply.

“I mean maybe he went back to one of those French towns to have a good
time for a day or two,” continued the money lender’s son.

“Don’t talk like a fool! You know Dave Porter would never break away
like that. His disappearance has a serious side to it, although what,
we don’t know.”

“Well, if you know all about it, why do you bother me?” went on Nat,
looking more sour than ever.

“Nat Poole, if I had your disposition I’d go down to the river and
drown myself!” declared the shipowner’s son in disgust. “Dave is right
from your home town, and he’s as good a fellow as there is in the
world. And even though he did give you what you deserved, you ought to
have some interest when he is missing and may be in serious trouble.
For all we know, he may be a prisoner of the Germans.”

“I don’t know anything about him--and I don’t care!” said Nat, and
jumped up from the log upon which he was sitting and walked away.

To tell the truth, Nat was very much disturbed, and he hurried away,
fearing that Phil might discover his state of mind. He and Gebauer had
kept track of matters, and early that morning had learned that our hero
was still missing.

“I wonder what will happen if he never turns up?” thought Nat, as he
walked back to his quarters. The very idea that Dave might never return
caused him to shiver.

A little later Nat ran into Gebauer and, motioning the lieutenant to
one side, told him of the interview with Phil.

“I hope you didn’t give yourself away!” cried Gebauer quickly.

“Trust me for that,” answered the money lender’s son. “Just the same,
Max, I think you carried things too far.”

“_I_ carried things? _You_, you mean!” answered the lieutenant quickly.

“See here! You’re not going to stick it off on me like that,” stormed
Nat. “It was you who gave him the crack that knocked him senseless.”

“Sh-sh! Not so loud!” interrupted Gebauer, and placed a hasty hand over
his companion’s mouth. “Somebody might hear you!”

“Well then, don’t say I’m to blame.”

“Don’t let’s talk about that now.” Gebauer drew a deep breath. “I’m
glad Lawrence mentioned the state of affairs to you. Now they won’t
think it’s strange that we know all about it.”

“But suppose he never returns?” questioned Nat hoarsely.

“Oh, he’ll get back some time or other.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m sure he will. Just tumbling him down into that mine can’t have
hurt him so very much.”

“But he might have gone down into some terribly deep hole.”

“I think you’ll find Dave Porter turning up safe and sound sooner or
later. Just the same, I guess we had better not say anything about
having seen him on his way to one of the towns in the rear,” continued
Gebauer.

“Why not? I thought that was part of your scheme to get him into
trouble.”

“Well, I’ve changed my mind about it, Nat. You see, it’s this way:
If we were positive that he would show himself in a day or two, we
might spread such a report. But if he doesn’t turn up, then they would
be sure to come to us and ask for all particulars, and that might
prove very embarrassing. So I guess for the present we had better say
nothing.”

“What did you do with that notebook you picked up?”

“I put that away.”

“You had better place it where no one can find it, Max. If it was found
among your things it might be used as evidence against us.”

“I’ve got it in a safe place, so don’t worry.”

“Do you think we ought to go on a hunt for him ourselves?” continued
Nat, after an unsatisfactory pause.

“What do you mean? Go down into that shaft of the abandoned mines?”

“Yes.”

“Not on your life! I wouldn’t go down there for a thousand dollars,”
answered Gebauer quickly. The very thought of going down into that dark
place to look for his victim caused him to shudder.

“Somehow I think we ought to do something,” continued Nat. He
was feeling more and more uncomfortable as he realized the awful
possibilities attached to their actions.

“We’ll lie low and say nothing!” answered the lieutenant firmly. “You
keep your mouth tight shut. If those friends of Porter’s come to you
and try to pump you, beware of them. If they got an inkling of what we
did, we would certainly be in bad.” And then Gebauer looked at Nat in
such a fierce way that it struck terror to the slacker’s very soul.




CHAPTER XXIII

A PRISONER OF THE ENEMY


As soon as Dave saw the Germans he attempted to retreat, but they were
too quick for him, and in a few seconds six of the enemy had surrounded
him while several more were running in that direction.

As we know, the young lieutenant was unarmed, so resistance was out of
the question. Several of the Germans pointed their rifles at him, and
then there was nothing left for him to do but throw up his hands in
token of surrender.

“Watch him, you Kopek and Posen,” said an under officer, in German.
“There may be more coming.”

The two soldiers addressed pushed Dave roughly to one side in an angle
of the wall, and there one of them held him at the point of a bayonet.
In the meantime, the other Germans, under the leadership of the
officer, spread out across the passageway of the mine. Some even ran a
distance ahead, peering this way and that along the dark passageways.

Presently the officer came back, accompanied by one of his men, a
fellow who had lived for some time in London and who could speak fairly
good English.

“Haf you been all alone?” demanded this soldier, after having received
a request for this information from his superior.

“Yes, I am all alone,” answered Dave.

“How did you come by this part of the mine?” was the next question put.

Dave saw no reason for deceiving those who had made him a prisoner,
and in a straightforward manner he told of having rolled down through
an opening in the mines some distance off, and then related how he
had wandered around, met the savage dogs, and finally come out into
daylight at this point. The German listened attentively, and from time
to time translated what our hero said for the benefit of the others.

“And you wass sure you been all alone?” was the next question.

“Yes.”

No more questions were asked just then, but a number of the Germans
were detailed to watch for any signs of approaching Americans. Then
Dave was placed in the charge of two of the men and told to march.

[Illustration: ONE OF THEM HELD HIM AT THE POINT OF A BAYONET.--_Page
227._]

The young lieutenant wondered if he had come out of the mines at a
point which was near the German lines. He saw only about fifteen
soldiers, and nothing that looked like a trench or a dugout, and
concluded that this was simply a reconnoitring party making its way
through the woods and over the rough rocks, probably with some idea of
“feeling out” that portion of the American front.

Presently the party came to where they had to cross a small stream.
Before this was done Dave was halted and the soldier who could speak
English addressed him.

“You not make any noise now, or you get killed,” he ordered, and the
look on his face showed that he meant what he said.

With these men ready either to shoot or stab him at an instant’s
notice, Dave felt that it would be foolhardy to make any noise
or attempt to escape. Consequently he silently crossed the small
stream with them and walked along a trail leading through some thick
brushwood. Thus they covered a good quarter of a mile, presently
reaching open ground beyond which were a number of German trenches.

The appearance of the American prisoner was hailed with delight by a
gathering of German soldiers, all of whom eyed Dave curiously.

“American--and a lieutenant at that!” cried one. “Some catch!”

“Lieutenant Oswald will get some credit now,” returned another.

“The Yankee pig ought to be shot down! What is the sense of making a
prisoner of him?” cried a third. “The Americans had no business to come
into this war!”

“Don’t worry, Carl--they will treat him rough enough!” exclaimed the
first soldier who had spoken. Then he picked up a lump of dirt and
hurled it at Dave, striking him in the leg.

“He’ll be useful to get some information from,” remarked another
soldier. “A lieutenant like that ought to know a good deal.”

“I don’t believe the Americans know anything!” cried still another.
“They are a lot of numskulls! They had no business to get into this
war!”

After a short pause at the trenches Dave was marched to the rear, of
the lines. Here, to his surprise, he was joined by two other Americans,
both privates.

“Hello! where are you from?” he questioned quickly, after both of the
other prisoners had saluted him and he had saluted in return.

One man, whose name was Oscar Davis, was from New York State, and the
other, named Ralph Thompson, was from Massachusetts. Both were young
fellows of about Dave’s age, and both were as mad as hornets because
they had been captured.

“I was out in a night raid with twenty others,” explained Oscar
Davis. “We got along pretty well until all of a sudden Jerry began to
throw up some star shells and flaming onions. Then I and two other
fellows were spotted by the Fritzies, and both of the other fellows
were killed. Then something hit me in the back and knocked me over on
my head, so that I was partly stunned. When I got so I could do some
thinking these fellows had me and they fairly dragged me over to their
trench.”

Ralph Thompson proved to be an American aviator. He had been up in a
small machine doing special work when a storm had come up and one of
the planes of his machine had suddenly broken. He had tried to get back
behind the American lines, but the storm had been too much for him,
and he had come down with a crash directly on top of one of the German
dugouts. There had been a grand commotion, the Germans thinking that
the dugout had been struck by a shell. He had set fire to his machine,
as was the custom, but before he could make his escape had been
surrounded and captured.

“And now I suppose we are in for a dandy time--not,” he concluded
dismally.

“You can be thankful you weren’t killed when your plane collapsed,”
returned Dave; and then told something about himself.

“What do you suppose they will do with us?” questioned Oscar Davis
anxiously. He was a tall, thin youth, and later on let out that he had
the year before graduated from Harvard University.

“I suppose we’re booked for one of their prison camps,” answered Dave.

Then several of the Germans came up and made motions that they should
keep quiet.

It must be confessed that our hero was much downcast. He had read and
heard a great deal of how inhumanly the Huns were treating all of their
prisoners. Only a few days before word had reached the engineers of how
several prisoners had died in one of the detention camps from lack of
proper food and clothing.

“I suppose I’ve got to make the best of it,” he thought philosophically.
“Just the same, I’d give a good deal to be back among our crowd once
more.”

About an hour later the three prisoners were told to march, and were
made to travel a distance of several miles. At one point they were
joined by several other Americans and about a dozen Canadians, and then
the whole crowd continued on its way to the rear.

The young lieutenant was hungry. He had already eaten what was left of
his emergency ration and used up the water left in his canteen. But no
food was offered to him, and he had all he could do to get a drink of
water, the Germans even seeming to begrudge him this comfort.

“They’re Huns, all right enough!” growled one of the Canadians, who
chanced to be tramping along just behind Dave. “We ought to wipe every
mother’s son of them off the face of the earth!”

“Certainly not a very encouraging prospect,” answered Dave.

“Silence!” came the sharp command from the head of the column; and then
followed some words in German to the soldiers who had the prisoners
in charge. As a consequence Dave and a number of others received jabs
from the soldiers’ gun-butts, and one poor fellow who made a slight
resistance was promptly bowled over and stuck through the side with a
bayonet.

It was not until well toward nightfall that the prisoners reached a
small wire compound where they were herded together like so many sheep.
This compound had been used by other prisoners before them, and was
in anything but a clean or sanitary condition. They were thrust into
the enclosure in the most brutal fashion, and told they would have to
remain there until the next day.

“Don’t we get anything to eat?” questioned Dave in broken German. He
was beginning to feel faint.

“Yes; you’ll get something in a little while,” was the reply.

All of the prisoners had, of course, been disarmed and searched, and
many of their most valuable possessions had been taken from them. The
compound was heavily guarded, so that escape was practically out of the
question.

“It is nothing more than a big pig-pen!” was the way Oscar Davis
expressed himself.

“Well, you didn’t expect to have it look like a New York City hotel,
did you?” queried Dave, with a faint grin.

“They might at least treat us like human beings!”

“I agree with you there.”

“If they don’t give me something to eat pretty soon I’m going to try
to make a break for it, even if it costs me my life,” put in Ralph
Thompson recklessly. He had come from a rich family, and previous to
entering the army had been used to the best of living.

“Don’t do anything foolish,” warned Dave. “It won’t help you any, and
it will only make it so much the harder for the rest of us. By their
looks, some of those Huns wouldn’t like any better fun than to shoot
down every one of us.”

It was fully an hour before the prisoners were given anything to eat,
then each got a small tin full of weak soup and a chunk of black bread.

“I can’t eat such chow as that,” declared one of the prisoners after
tasting the stuff. “Why, it isn’t even respectable dish-water!”
Nevertheless, being very hungry, he managed at last to soak up his
chunk of bread in the mess and devour it.

Dave was of the opinion that the food served was decidedly poor, but it
was better than nothing, and he ate it without comment.

“Anyway,” remarked Ralph Thompson, “it’s a little bit filling, and
that’s something. I won’t pull my belt any tighter until I am worse
off.”

The next day the prisoners were joined by a number of others, and
all were marched still further to the rear, arriving about noon at a
freight-yard on the outskirts of a small town. Here were a number of
box-cars, and the prisoners were herded into these like so many cattle.

Over thirty men were in the car to which Dave and the other Americans
were assigned. The car had only small slatted windows at either end.
After being given a couple of buckets of water the door was closed and
locked upon them.

“I don’t see how we are going to stand this,” grumbled one of the
prisoners. “Why, I can hardly breathe now!” He was a short, thick-set
fellow, and consequently somewhat at a disadvantage in that crowd.

Of course, every one wanted to get in the vicinity of one of the
slatted windows so that he might get the benefit of what little fresh
air was stirring. The car had been used for the transportation of
cattle, and had not been cleaned.

“This certainly is the limit!” was Dave’s comment, when he found
himself squeezed into one end of this place. “I wouldn’t treat a skunk
like this!”

Presently the train began to move, and the car rattled out of the
freight-yard and on its journey. Previous to going aboard the prisoners
had been given some weak coffee, made mostly of acorns, and some
bread which several of the men declared must be made of rye flour and
sawdust. And that was the only meal they had had since morning.

“If they are going to starve us to death, they might as well do it at
once,” grumbled Davis.

“They’re either going to starve us or suffocate us,” returned Thompson.
The pair had struck up quite an acquaintance.

On and on rattled the train, over switches and bridges, and through
many villages and towns. Where they were bound, Dave could not imagine,
but he knew they must be getting deeper and deeper into the heart of
Germany, and this made him more downcast than ever.

“I’ll have no chance to escape at all if they take me too far away from
the front lines,” he reasoned. “Too bad! I almost wish I had made a
dash for it when I met those Germans at the entrance to the mines.”

It was not until eight o’clock in the evening that the train came to a
stop and the doors were thrown open. By that time many of those within
could hardly stand upright, so weak were they from want of fresh air
and proper rest. They staggered into the open, and were glad enough to
learn they were to receive another meal. This time they were given a
watery stew, made up partly of potatoes and greens with a tiny piece of
meat. Accompanying the stew was the inevitable chunk of black, sawdusty
bread.

“A really elaborate menu, eh?” was Oscar Davis’s sarcastic comment. “I
hardly know what to pick out on the bill-of-fare.”

“Well, don’t eat too much,” returned Dave, with a faint grin. “If you
do that, you may get indigestion.”

“Indigestion!” ejaculated the former university student. “I think this
mess is just the thing to go back on a fellow’s stomach.”

“Well, don’t be discouraged,” returned Dave grimly. “It may be that the
worst is yet to come.”

In that surmise our hero was correct, as events a little later proved.




CHAPTER XXIV

TRYING TO ESCAPE


The next day found Dave and about one hundred prisoners herded in a
long, low building which had once been used as a horse-stable. It was
located at a place which had evidently been a fairgrounds, for close
behind were the remains of a race-track and a grand-stand.

“I wonder how long we’ll have to stay in this place?” grumbled Ralph
Thompson.

“Pretty bum quarters, eh?” added Oscar Davis.

“Anyway, it’s better than that cattle-car we were herded in,” remarked
Dave. “There are more windows and we can get better air.”

That afternoon the young lieutenant was called out and made to march
to a military quarters not far away. There he was asked his name and
the name of the command to which he belonged, and then a great number
of questions were put to him. He answered as well as he could, taking
care, of course, that he did not give the enemy any information of
military value.

“You have evidently been well drilled concerning what to say if
captured,” remarked the questioner, a burly German officer, as he
glared at Dave. “If you expect good treatment at our hands you will
have to loosen your tongue a little.”

“I have answered every question put to me,” was our hero’s prompt reply.

“But you are keeping a whole lot of information to yourself,” stormed
the German officer. “But we’ll get it out of you sooner or later, never
fear!” and then he ordered a couple of the guards to take Dave back to
the prison pen.

The other prisoners were also questioned one by one. A few of them
probably told more than they should, doing this perhaps innocently,
but the majority were very close-mouthed, so much so that their German
questioners were anything but pleased.

“These American swine think they can do as they please,” grumbled one
of the German officers. “But just wait--we’ll show them what’s what!”

As a result of their holding back information desired by the Huns,
the prisoners were treated with more severity than ever. Some of the
windows of the horse-stable were boarded up, and their rations were cut
down to such small portions that even the most liberal-minded men in
the crowd demurred.

“This is positively inhuman!” declared one of the Canadians. “It’s
against the rules of war, too!”

“England will have a big claim to settle against Germany when this war
is over,” declared another.

“I reckon Uncle Sam will have a claim, too,” put in an American
prisoner from Alabama.

Several days, including Sunday, were spent in this prison pen, and then
one morning, while it was raining hard, one of the doors was opened and
a number of prisoners were told to come out as their names were called.

“I guess they’re going to take us to some other place,” remarked Dave.
“I wonder where?”

“I hope it’s some better place than this,” growled Oscar Davis.

Dave was among the first to be called out, and a number of Americans
and Canadians followed, among them being Ralph Thompson. Oscar Davis
was left behind along with a number of others, why, Dave could not
surmise.

Without having a chance to say good-bye to those left behind, about
thirty of the prisoners were marched away from the horse-stables to a
railroad station in a small German village. On the way some boys and
girls jeered at them, and one old woman sifted some ashes down on their
heads from a second-story window.

Some of these ashes got into Dave’s eyes, almost blinding him. He
forgot for the instant where he was walking, and did not realize the
situation until one of the guards hit him in the shoulder, almost
knocking him over. Had there been the slightest chance of improving his
condition thereby, Dave would have leaped upon this guard and pommeled
him well. But he knew such an action would have meant death, so he
controlled himself as best he could and continued on the march.

At the railroad station they were herded into a small freight-yard, and
there received another meal of watery soup and black bread. While they
were trying to eat this some of the town folks came down to jeer at
them and a few to hurl sticks and stones.

“Being a prisoner is certainly no picnic,” remarked Ralph Thompson.

“I know what I am going to do,” answered Dave, in a low tone of voice.
“I am going to break away at the first opportunity that presents
itself.”

“They’ll shoot you down if they get the chance.”

“I don’t care--let them shoot!” answered the young lieutenant.

The inhuman treatment which had been accorded him since his capture was
beginning to make him reckless. Where the Germans were going to send
him next, he could not surmise, but he felt certain they would place
him at work, either on one of their roads, or else in one of their
mines. There, he knew, he would be made to labor ten or twelve hours a
day on the scantiest of food and in all sorts of weather.

“It’s enough to break down a mule,” he reasoned to himself. “I’m not
going to stand it! I’m going to do what I can to escape at the very
first opportunity.”

All that day and the following night were spent in the little
freight-yard. During the darkness the guards were increased, and
electric lights were made to illuminate the scene, so that escape was
out of the question. It still rained as hard as ever.

Dave turned the matter over in his mind for an hour or two, but finally
gave it up and got what little sleep he could sitting with his back
against some old railroad ties. Our hero, as well as all of the other
prisoners, was by this time soaked to the skin, and many of the crowd
got heavy colds, from which one or two of them did not recover.

It was not until after seven o’clock that evening that a line of
freight cars came rattling into the yard. When it came to a standstill
those in the yard noted from the sounds that reached them that more
than three quarters of the cars were filled with prisoners. They
begged for food and water and fresh air, but the Germans having the
train in charge paid no attention to their appeals.

The prisoners in the yard were placed in two cars, and this time Dave
was separated from Ralph Thompson. He was told to get into a car which
was partly filled with packing-cases. There was room for just a dozen
prisoners, and these were herded together closely.

“These are smaller quarters than any yet,” remarked one of the
prisoners.

“But the car is fairly clean, and that is one comfort,” said another.

“And we can use some of these packing-cases to sit on,” added a third.

“I wonder if there is any grub in these boxes?” ventured a fourth
prisoner, after the door had been closed and locked upon them. “If
there is anything to eat, I’m going to have it.”

Of course, it was quite dark in the car, but one prisoner chanced to
have a few matches, and one of these was lit and the boxes hastily
inspected. They proved to contain pieces of small machinery, much to
the prisoners’ disgust.

“We can’t eat hardware,” was the way one of them expressed himself.

One of the boxes had been left open, and Dave used this for a seat. As
the train bumped along, making probably twenty-five or thirty miles an
hour, he felt in the box and presently brought out a small piece of
machinery shaped something like a jimmy.

As the train rattled on the young lieutenant heard one prisoner ask
another what time it was and found out that it was close to ten o’clock
in the evening. The rain had stopped, but it was still cloudy, with no
stars showing themselves.

“If I could only get out of this car I might have a chance to hide in
some good place before daylight,” Dave reasoned. “If the door was open,
I think I’d take a chance on jumping out, even though this old train is
running along at fairly good speed.”

He was sitting not far from one of the doors of the car, and now he
examined this as best he could in the darkness. Then he took the piece
of machinery in his hand and forced it between the door and its frame.

“What are you trying to do there?” questioned one of the other
prisoners who was at his side.

“I’m going to try to force this door open,” answered our hero.

“What? And jump out in the darkness? You’ll break your neck!” was the
quick reply.

“I’ll see about what I’ll do after I get the door open--if I can get it
open,” answered the young lieutenant.

Fortunately for our hero, the car was an old one and the fastenings
were rather dilapidated. By using the piece of machinery as a jimmy,
he forced the edge of the door outwards until there came a sudden snap
which showed that the lock had been broken. Then the lock fell away and
the door slid open with ease.

“Hello, somebody has opened the door!” cried a voice in the darkness.

“That fresh air feels fine!”

“What’s doing there?” questioned somebody else. “Are we going to get
out?”

“I broke the door open with one of those pieces of machinery,” answered
Dave. “I don’t intend to remain a prisoner any longer. I am going to
jump from this train at the very first chance I get.”

“Don’t do it, lad! Don’t do it!” cried one of the older men. “You’ll
break your neck sure!”

“And you can’t get away,” added another. “The Germans will be sure to
spot you in the morning and they’ll shoot you down.”

To this Dave did not reply. Instead he peered forth from the train,
opening the door only a few inches for that purpose.

All was dark, and for a minute or two he could see but little. Then he
made out that they were passing through a patch of woods and that the
jagged rocks were numerous along the roadbed.

“I can’t jump out here,” he told himself. “I’d either be killed or
terribly cut up.”

A few minutes later the woods were left behind, and then the prisoners
found themselves bumping over a railroad crossing. Then they ran into a
small station, which was lit up by smoky lanterns.

“I guess this is my chance,” Dave told himself, and the train had not
yet come to a stop when he pushed open the door a little farther and
allowed himself to drop out on the ground. Then, as the train rolled a
few yards further, he made a quick leap for the shelter of some nearby
sheds.

The young lieutenant knew only too well that it would be foolhardy to
remain long in that vicinity. The train had halted, and undoubtedly
some sort of inspection would be made of the cars and the prisoners.
The broken-open door would be discovered, and then would come an alarm.

“I’ve got to place distance between myself and this place,” he
murmured, and, watching his chance, he sped along a line of low
warehouses and then took to some open fields beyond. He kept on at his
best rate of speed until he crossed a road and then came to a patch of
woods, evidently that through which the train had recently passed.

By that time Dave was so out of wind he could run no longer, and,
finding a comfortable resting place among the trees and bushes, he sat
down and gave himself over to his thoughts.

It must be admitted that his mind was by no means at ease. He realized
that in thus attempting to escape he had taken his life in his hands.
Should the German guards make a search and discover him, his life would
probably pay the forfeit.

“I’ll have to lie low in the daytime,” he told himself, “and do all of
my traveling at night. And how I’m going to get anything to eat is a
question.”

Having rested and at the same time listened in vain for some sounds of
pursuit, the young lieutenant went on his way, coming out of the woods
along the line of the railroad. Looking back, he made out the distant
village where the train had stopped, and then hurried forward in the
direction from which he had come. He reasoned that the train had been
carrying him deeper into the enemy’s country, and what he wanted to do
was to get back to the vicinity of the war front.

Our hero had traveled a distance of a mile or more when he heard a
rumble behind him. Looking back, he saw a train approaching rather
slowly. As it came closer he made out that it was a heavily loaded
freight. It was going uphill, and the engineer had all he could do to
coax the locomotive into hauling the load.

Our hero stood to one side and allowed a number of cars to pass him.
Then, struck by a sudden thought, he watched his opportunity and
boarded the freight-train.

Dave had supposed that the entire train was made up of cars filled with
freight. But in this the young lieutenant was mistaken. Several of the
cars in the center of the train contained soldiers on their way to the
front. More than this, the train carried its regular guards, and as
Dave stood between two of the cars wondering what he had best do next,
he heard two of these guards talking in guttural tones.

“They say four or five of the prisoners got away,” he heard one of the
men say, in German.

“That’s too bad, Heinrich. Do you suppose they came this way?” remarked
a second guard.

“Dolbear thought so,” went on the first speaker. “He told me to tell
you and the others to be on the watch. If we see any of those rascals
we are to shoot them on sight.”




CHAPTER XXV

THE ENCOUNTER ON THE RIVER


“This looks as if I had jumped from the frying-pan into the fire.”

Such was Dave’s thought as he listened to what was said by the German
guards. He could not understand every word spoken, but he gathered
enough to know that they were keeping a lookout for him and some others
who had leaped from the prisoners’ train.

The two guards were on the top of one of the cars, and only a few feet
from where the young lieutenant was in hiding. He crouched low on one
of the bumpers, running a serious risk of being pinched should the cars
make a sudden swerve to one side or the other.

On and on puffed the train. The top of the hill was presently gained,
and then the cars increased their speed and rattled forward over the
uneven rails and across numerous switches.

One of the guards had evidently gone toward the rear of the train, and
now the other started to move forward. He leaped directly over our
hero’s head from car to car, but he was too interested in maintaining
his footing to glance down, so Dave remained undiscovered.

“I hope those fellows don’t come back this way,” he muttered to
himself, as he straightened up, holding fast to one of the cars as he
did so. His cramped position had begun to tell on him, and he was glad
to make a change.

A couple of hours passed and the long freight still continued on its
way. It had rolled through a number of villages and several small
towns, and had also crossed three small streams. Now they were climbing
another hill, and the speed of the train was again slackened.

One of the towns through which they passed Dave recognized as a place
he had seen before, and this gave him not a little satisfaction, for he
felt that he was once more headed for the fighting front.

“I’ve got to get pretty close to it if I ever expect to get back to
our lines,” was the way he reasoned. “It wouldn’t be any use for me
to attempt to travel any great distance through Germany, especially
wearing this uniform.”

As the train passed over the top of the second long line of hills and
began to increase its speed down the other side, Dave resolved to make
another move. He knew that sooner or later the freight would roll into
some yard and there, if the place was lighted up and well guarded, it
would be next to impossible to escape.

“I’ve got to leave this train before that happens,” was the way he
reasoned. “And I had better take a look around and see what the
prospects ahead are.”

At the end of one of the freight cars was a ladder-like arrangement,
and with caution Dave mounted this, to peer out over the top. He could
see nothing of the guards, and so sat down on the top of the freight
car to get a better view of his surroundings. The sky was now clearing
and a number of stars were beginning to show themselves.

They were going down the grade rather rapidly, and looking far ahead
the young lieutenant saw a gleam of brightness which he rightly took to
be a broad stream. On this side of the river was a good-sized town.

In a few minutes more they rattled into the outskirts of the town. It
was quite dark, the lights evidently being extinguished on account of a
possible air raid by the Americans or their Allies. But in a tall tower
was located a searchlight, and this was suddenly turned on the train,
flashing along the tops of the cars from end to end.

Evidently the guards had been expecting this light to fall upon them,
for they were on the alert and their eyes, following the bright beams,
fell full upon Dave before he had any chance to hide himself.

“Who are you? Throw up your hands!” came the cry in German. And then,
as Dave started to drop down between the cars once more, a shot rang
out, followed by another.

Both of the bullets whistled close over our hero’s head, and he made
such a quick move out of range that he almost lost his footing. As it
was, he dropped down on the bumper and had all he could do to keep
himself from going clear through to the rails below. Had he done this,
he would have been instantly ground beneath the wheels of the cars.

The train was now rattling through the town, and a few seconds later it
reached the near end of the long bridge across the river.

“I guess here is where I’ll have to jump for it,” thought the young
lieutenant. He knew that the guards above would be rushing to the spot
where they had last seen him and that they would not hesitate to open
fire again. He had no desire to fall a victim to a German bullet.

The train ran out on the trestle; and the edge of the cars was less
than two feet from the outside of the bridge. Bracing himself as best
he could, Dave took a long breath and then made the leap.

“There he goes!” cried one of the guards.

[Illustration: DAVE TOOK A LONG BREATH AND THEN MADE THE LEAP.--_Page
252._]

“Shoot him!” exclaimed the other; and then both blazed away with their
rifles.

Dave felt a queer stinging sensation along the outside of his left leg,
and then he hit the waters of the river with a loud splash and went
under. He knew he had been struck, and he hoped it was not a serious
wound.

Not to give the guards on the train a chance to shoot at him again,
our hero kept under water as long as he could hold his breath. In
the meantime, the long freight-train continued over the bridge and
presently was lost to sight in the distance.

But the young lieutenant was too bewildered by what had occurred to
note the disappearance of the train, and, coming up to the surface, he
took a hasty breath and then dived again.

When he came up a second time he dashed the water from his eyes and
endeavored to look around him. All was semi-dark on the river and
everything was quiet.

“Well, I’m out of that, anyway, unless they send word back to start a
search for me,” he told himself. “But what am I to do next?”

Fortunately for our hero, he had on only his light summer outfit, so
his clothing did not weigh heavily upon him. The water was cool, but
not cold, and this was rather refreshing than otherwise after his
many days of confinement during which it had been impossible to get
anything like a bath.

The river was rather swiftly flowing, and the young lieutenant allowed
himself to be carried along by the current, meanwhile, however,
striking out in the direction of the other shore. This he knew would be
bringing him just so much closer to the firing-line. As he swam along
he used his left leg, and thereby ascertained that the wound he had
sustained was little more than a scratch, for which he was thankful.

Dave had passed down the river a distance of several hundred yards, and
was within fifty rods of the opposite shore, when an object coming down
the stream caught his attention. It was a large rowboat manned by two
soldiers who were singing some sort of an army song in noisy, guttural
tones.

“I’ll have to take care that those fellows don’t discover me,” the
young lieutenant reasoned, and then struck out toward the distant shore
in an endeavor to evade the on-coming craft.

Had the two soldiers in the boat been perfectly sober they would
probably have kept on a straight course and passed Dave. But, as it
chanced, both of them had been drinking heavily and were consequently
somewhat befuddled. They managed their oars in anything but a skillful
manner, and as a consequence when the boat was close to our hero it
suddenly swerved around, hitting Dave in the shoulder.

The blow was not a hard one, but it was sufficient to send the young
lieutenant under and to knock a good deal of the wind out of him. When
he came up he was at the stern of the rowboat, and this he clutched
with both hands.

“Ha! who is there, Hans?” bawled one of the German soldiers.

“I don’t know. Let us find out,” answered Hans, and, dropping his oar,
he stumbled to the stern of the boat and caught Dave by both wrists.
Then the other German soldier also leaped back, and between them they
hauled Dave up and into the craft.

“Upon my head, I think it is one of those Yankee swine!” cried one of
the soldiers in astonishment, as he peered into Dave’s face and looked
at his water-soaked uniform.

“What? An American!” roared the other. “Dump him into the river again;
he deserves nothing better than to be drowned.”

“No, no! Now we have him, let us take him to camp as our prisoner,” was
the mumbled reply. “We shall get a good deal of credit for capturing
one of those beasts.”

To this the young lieutenant answered nothing, for the reason that he
was almost out of breath, and, furthermore, the befuddled soldiers
spoke in a German dialect of which he hardly understood a word.

“Hands up, you son of a rat!” muttered one of the soldiers, as our hero
sank down on one of the middle seats of the large rowboat. “Don’t try
to play any tricks on us.”

As he spoke he made a clumsy pass at the young lieutenant, and it was
then for the first time that Dave realized the truth of the situation,
which was that the two soldiers were in no fit condition to manage the
rowboat. They had evidently been sent from their camp into town on an
errand, and while on this had taken the opportunity to treat themselves
liberally to liquor.

Dave realized that if he wanted to escape from the clutches of the
enemy, he must do some quick thinking, if not acting. Seeing the
condition of the two soldiers, he let out a groan as if in deep pain
and sank down on the bottom of the rowboat.

“He must be wounded, or else he has been swimming a long distance,”
mumbled one of the soldiers.

“Well, that will make it so much the easier to take him along. Let the
pig lie where he is until we reach the landing. Then we’ll make him
march along, or else shoot him.”

Both soldiers picked up their oars once more and endeavored to continue
their rowing. One had his feet in the middle of Dave’s back and took
savage delight in punching his heels into the prisoner.

“I’d like to have all the Americans under me just like this one,” he
mumbled to his companion.

“We’ll have them all under our feet some day,” answered the other.
“They will be sorry they ever went to war against the _Vaterland_;”
and then the soldier began his singing again, in which his companion
presently joined.

Dave noted with satisfaction that the guns of both of the soldiers lay
forward, on the bottom of the rowboat. While the craft was passing
along in the darkness he put forth one hand cautiously and pulled first
one gun and then the other toward him. He did not dare to raise either
of the weapons; but he placed them in such a position that neither of
the Germans could get at them very readily.

A full mile had been covered on the journey down the river, and one
soldier was looking ahead as if to see at what point he might make a
landing, when Dave resolved to act. He felt somewhat recovered, and,
gathering himself for the effort, he suddenly leaped up and caught one
of the soldiers by the arm.

“Stop! What does this mean?” spluttered the fellow, but before he could
utter another word Dave had him half overboard. Then he gave the
soldier a shove which sent him headlong into the water.

The encounter had been a brief one, but short as it was it had given
the second soldier a chance to leap up and at the young lieutenant. He
came at our hero very much like a big bear, fastening himself on Dave’s
back with a grab at his throat which was as painful as it was dangerous.

But all the young lieutenant’s fighting blood was now aroused, and,
standing straight up, he suddenly bent low, sending the German soldier
flying into the air and over his head.

The fellow gave a yell of rage and alarm, but he did not lose his grip;
and a moment later both he and Dave splashed overboard into the swiftly
flowing river!




CHAPTER XXVI

DEEP IN THE WOODS


Evidently the German soldier who had gone overboard with Dave knew
little or nothing about swimming, for the minute he touched the water
he seemed to grow frantic, clutching our hero around the neck in a
deathlike grip.

“Save me! Save me! Don’t let me drown!” he spluttered hoarsely, in
German, as soon as both of them came to the surface again.

The young lieutenant did not reply to this. He was in the grip of a
deadly enemy, and he did not purpose to lose his life if he could help
it. Gathering what strength remained to him, he twisted around and gave
the German a stinging blow in the chin.

Ordinarily such a blow would have caused the other to fall back; but
now fear clutched at the German’s heart, and though his head went back
with a jerk, he still retained his hold upon our hero. Evidently he did
not intend to drown unless Dave did likewise.

By this time the rowboat had drifted down the stream away from the
pair. But one of the oars was close at hand and Dave seized hold of
this. From a distance came a yell for help, evidently from the first
soldier who had gone overboard. These cries gradually became fainter
and fainter, and then ceased altogether.

With the oar in his hand, the young lieutenant wondered what he had
best do next. He must act quickly, for already both he and the German
soldier were on the point of going down a second time.

Perhaps it was a cruel thing to do, but this was war, and Dave did not
purpose to lose his life if he could possibly avoid it. He brought the
broad point of the oar around, and, catching the blade with both hands,
made a jab with all of his strength for the German’s throat.

The thrust went true, the sharp end of the oar catching the man full in
the neck. The force of the blow made him gasp, and for the instant his
hold upon Dave was relaxed. Our hero made another lunge with the oar,
catching the fellow in the breast and sending him several yards away.
Then the German suddenly disappeared from view beneath the surface of
the river; and that was the last the young lieutenant saw of him.

Dave swam a distance of twenty odd feet, and then looked back to see if
he was being pursued. But when neither of the German soldiers showed
himself, he continued his swimming, heading for the distant shore
and also for the rowboat which was drifting on ahead of him. It did
not take him long to reach the boat, and, almost exhausted, he pulled
himself aboard and sank down on the middle seat.

Less than ten minutes had elapsed since Dave had made his attack on the
enemy, yet to him it seemed as if it was an age. He had been close to
death, and he thanked Providence for his escape.

“More than likely both of those chaps are drowned,” he told himself.
“Even if they could swim, they were both too befuddled by liquor to
take care of themselves.”

The rowboat was without oars, so he had to let the craft take its own
course to a large degree. He did find a small board in the bottom of
the boat, and with this as a paddle succeeded in heading more toward
the shore than before.

The craft had passed a point where there were a number of small lights
as if belonging to some village or camp, and was now drifting along a
portion of the stream where all was dark.

“I’ve got to make a landing sooner or later,” he reasoned; “and I might
as well turn in here as anywhere. If I see anything to alarm me, I can
slip overboard and swim for it.”

In utter silence he turned the boat toward the shore, and presently the
current brought it close alongside a number of bushes which overhung
the river bank. Dave caught hold of these bushes, and then by peering
around in the semi-darkness at last made out a little opening in the
bank. Into this, by means of the heavy brushwood growing on all sides,
he pulled the boat until it was almost entirely hidden from view.

By this time the sky had cleared more than ever, and all the stars
were shining brightly. Growing accustomed to the semi-darkness beneath
the bushes, Dave, after resting for a minute, arose cautiously and,
standing on the middle seat of the rowboat, peered around him.

All that he could see was the river with the bank fringed with
brushwood backed up by a small forest. In the distance he thought he
could discern the outlines of a number of stone buildings, but of this
he was not certain. Looking out on the stream, he could see nothing in
the shape of a boat.

“It doesn’t look to me as if there were any guards around here,” he
told himself. “But those soldiers must have been bound for some camp,
so I’ll have to be very careful about showing myself or making any
noise.”

Having completed the survey, Dave sat down on the seat of the boat and
gave himself up to his meditations. He also wrung some of the water
from his clothing and took off his shoes to empty them.

In the bottom of the boat still lay the two rifles, and both were
loaded, as he noted with satisfaction. He resolved, if it became
necessary to do so, to use the rifles and sell his life as dearly as
possible.

A long-drawn hour went by, and during that time Dave made himself as
comfortable as possible in the rowboat. This, of course, was not saying
much, for the boat was bare of anything in the way of blankets or
cushions. He tried to sleep, but succeeded only in getting a few fitful
naps, awakening from each with a violent start.

“I guess this situation is getting on my nerves, all right enough,”
he murmured. “My, what wouldn’t I give to be back safe and sound with
our boys!” And then he pictured himself safe in the quarters at the
abandoned mines. He wondered what his chums had thought concerning his
disappearance.

Slowly the night wore away, and at the first streak of dawn Dave arose
on the seat of the rowboat and took another look around.

He had been right about the stone buildings in the distance. They were
located half-way up the wooded side of a hill and were evidently some
ancient castle.

Up and down the stream he noted several villages and towns, but they
were all a goodly distance away. Near him seemed to be nothing but the
brushwood and trees with some farm lands behind them.

As soon as it became light enough to do so, Dave set to work to push
the rowboat still further in among the bushes until it was completely
hidden. Then he began a closer inspection of the craft, having noticed
that it contained two small lockers, one at the bow and the other under
the stern seat. In the bow locker was a small amount of fishing tackle,
and this he examined with care.

“If I can’t find anything else to eat, maybe I can catch a few fish,”
he thought. “Although how I am going to cook them without being
noticed, I don’t know.”

From the bow locker our hero turned to that under the stern seat, and
here a pleasant surprise awaited him. The locker contained a bundle
rolled up in a raincoat, such as he had seen the German soldiers
occasionally wearing.

“That raincoat will help me disguise myself,” he reasoned with
satisfaction. “And there, too, is a hat to go with it. Good enough!”

The bundle was done up in an old newspaper tied with a cord; and,
undoing this, our hero brought forth several links of smoked bologna, a
loaf of fresh bread, and a covered dish filled with potato salad.

It may be surmised that Dave lost no time in supplying himself with an
early morning meal, washing it down with a drink from the river. The
bologna, although rather highly seasoned, proved to be quite palatable,
and the bread was much better than he had seen since becoming a
prisoner. The potato salad, too, was very good, even though smelling
quite strongly of onions.

“Not exactly like the Waldorf-Astoria in New York or the Parker House
in Boston, but it’s plenty good enough for a hungry fellow like me,
and I’m mighty thankful that I’ve found such food,” was what he told
himself, as he proceeded to make himself at home.

With nothing to do, Dave took his time over the meal, and after he had
finished he put away what was left of the food with great care.

“It may have to last me for several days,” he thought.

By the time the young lieutenant had finished the repast the sun had
come up full and clear and it was growing much warmer. This being so,
he disrobed and hung his clothing on the nearby bushes to dry, in the
meantime covering himself with the raincoat.

By the middle of the afternoon Dave had become pretty well rested and
his clothing was thoroughly dry. Dressing himself once more, he put on
the raincoat and the hat he had found and took up one of the rifles and
also the package of food. As he did not wish to burden himself with
the second firearm, he unloaded this, placing the extra shells in his
pocket.

“Now I’m pretty well fixed,” he thought. “I’ve got on a German raincoat
and hat and I’ve got a loaded rifle with some extra ammunition, and
also some food. If I can’t manage to get along on that I’m no good.”

But though the young lieutenant told himself these things, he realized
that he was in a precarious position. He was in the enemy’s country,
and should they discover him they would most likely shoot him down on
sight.

“Having been captured once, I’ll be worse off than ever,” he mused.
“I’ve certainly got to watch things closely.”

He had already made up his mind in what direction he intended to
travel. That was away from the river and up to the top of the hill
which lay to the westward.

“The fighting front must be in that direction,” he told himself. “But
I guess it is a long way off, otherwise I’d hear the booming of the
artillery.”

With the bundle tied by a fishline over his shoulder, and with his gun
ready for use, the young lieutenant left the vicinity of the rowboat
and toiled slowly and painfully along through the brushwood and then
among the trees leading to the top of the hill. He had thus progressed
about a hundred yards when he came out on a footpath which presently
led into an old wood road, evidently used by the foresters of that
vicinity.

An hour of hard trudging brought Dave at last to the top of the hill.
As he advanced he heard a low rumble in the distance which gradually
increased in intensity.

“It’s the artillery, all right enough!” he told himself with
satisfaction. “I can’t be so very far from the fighting front after
all. I must have come farther on that freight-train than I imagined.”

Getting to the very top of the hill, Dave took a careful look around,
and, having assured himself that no one was in that vicinity, he
dropped his bundle, his rifle, and the raincoat, and commenced to climb
one of the tall trees growing close by.

Even when a boy on the farm Dave had been a good climber, and he went
up branch after branch until he found himself at the very top of the
tree.

Here a grand panorama, stretching for many miles, was spread out all
around him. He could see the river he had left gleaming brightly in
the sunshine, and the smoke from a number of villages and towns along
its banks. But most of his attention was fastened on the landscape to
the west. Here the rumble of the cannons had increased, and he could
occasionally see a vast cloud of smoke arising and rolling southward.

“That’s the fighting front, all right enough,” he told himself. “Now
the thing of it is to get there and then to get through to our side. I
wonder if I can do it?”

Our hero was about to descend from the tree and continue his journey
when a noise below reached his ears.

“I am quite sure he came this way,” said a voice, in German.

“Then he can’t be very far off,” was the reply.

With caution the young lieutenant peered down toward the ground and
presently made out the figures of two German soldiers.

“They must be after somebody, and most likely they’re after me,” he
reasoned. “If they spot me, what am I to do?”

Dave kept quiet for several minutes, and then heard voices in the
distance. Presently three other German soldiers appeared, and then
the whole five came to a halt directly under the tree in which he was
hiding.




CHAPTER XXVII

WHAT DAVE’S CHUMS DID


“Phil, it doesn’t look as if we were ever going to hear of Dave again.”

“Oh, Roger, don’t say anything like that!” burst out Phil Lawrence.
“Why, it gives me a cold shiver just to think of it.”

“And don’t you suppose it makes me feel blue?” said the senator’s son,
seriously. “Why, last night I hardly slept a wink just thinking about
Dave’s disappearance.”

“I can’t help but reach the conclusion that he was captured by the
Germans,” put in Ben, who sat near. “If it had been otherwise we would
have discovered his body.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” answered the senator’s son. “He may
have wandered off further than we suppose. And you must remember the
underbrush is very thick in spots and conceals many openings among the
rocks. He may have taken a long walk, and then have tried to get back
by a short cut and lost his way. If that happened, it would be an easy
thing for him to take some dangerous tumble in the dark.”

“And then remember, there are always those holes leading into the
abandoned mines,” came from Buster. “He may have rolled into one of
those and been unable to find his way out.”

“Oh, say, speaking of the holes leading into the mines puts me in mind
of a story,” began Shadow. “Once there were three boys--” He stopped
abruptly and looked contritely into the sober faces of his chums.
“Confound it, anyway! what business have I got to try to tell a story
at such a time as this? Excuse me, fellows. I--I feel just as bad over
this as any of you do,” he added, lamely.

“Speaking about holes,” resumed Roger, after an awkward silence, “Phil
and I examined two more of them yesterday, but got no trace whatever of
Dave. That makes about the tenth time we have been out on a search.”

“And I have been out just as many times,” came from Ben; and Buster and
Shadow nodded to infer that they had done practically the same thing.

Several days had passed since our hero’s disappearance, and the time
had dragged heavily with his chums. Had it not been for the daily tasks
assigned to them, they would have been a most miserable crowd. Even as
it was, whenever they were off duty they invariably went on a hunt for
their missing friend.

“Have you written anything to his folks yet, Roger, as you spoke of
doing?” questioned Phil, a little later, when Shadow and Buster had
left the others.

“No, I haven’t, Phil,” was the slow reply. “I can’t pluck up the
courage to do it. What Dave’s folks and the Wadsworths will say when
the news reaches them is something I hate to think of.”

“I’m with you in that,” answered the shipowner’s son. “I’m sure such
bad news will put Jessie Wadsworth to bed.”

“And Laura, Phil. Don’t forget her. She thinks the world and all of her
brother.”

“It’s too blamed bad, that’s what it is!” burst out Ben. “Oh, I do wish
we could learn what has become of him!”

The young engineers had been kept fairly busy, for the American army
and their allies were advancing steadily. The Americans had had one or
two hot contests for the possession of several French villages. They
had driven the Germans from the outskirts, and then from the villages
themselves, and finally into the woods beyond, making an advance of ten
or fifteen miles all along the front. The casualties had been heavy,
and as a consequence the field hospitals were crowded with the wounded.

In these battles the engineers had had small part, but now they were
sent once more to the front, to repair the roads and also make safe
two of the villages, work which was as interesting as it was hazardous.

On the following afternoon Roger, Phil, and a number of the others
found themselves in a small French village where they had been sent
to clean up some of the wreckage in the main street, so that the
army could use the thoroughfare for the passage of the artillery. A
battalion of infantry was located at this village, and this included
the company to which Nat Poole and Lieutenant Gebauer belonged.

“Hello! there is Nat Poole!” remarked Phil presently, when the young
soldier in question came out of one of the half-wrecked buildings in
that vicinity.

“Let us ask him if he has seen or heard anything of Dave,” returned
Roger.

“I don’t think it will do a bit of good,” remarked Ben, who was with
the others.

As soon as he saw his former schoolmates approaching, the money
lender’s son attempted to evade them by passing around the corner of
another ruined building. But all quickened their pace and soon caught
up with him.

“Wait a minute, Nat!” called Roger. “We want to talk to you.”

The young soldier turned a startled and haggard face toward them.

“I don’t want to talk to you fellows,” he grumbled. “I want to be left
alone.”

“See here, Nat, what’s got into you?” questioned Ben, coming closer.
“You look scared to death.”

“It isn’t so!” cried the other quickly. “I’m not a bit scared! And I
don’t want you to talk to me that way, Ben Basswood!”

“We were only going to ask you about Dave,” went on Roger. “He is still
missing, and I wanted to know if you had heard anything at all of him.”

“Not a thing.” Nat’s face began to show greater alarm. “I want you
fellows to leave me alone! You act just as if you thought I had
something to do with Dave Porter’s disappearance.”

“Perhaps you did have something to do with it!” cried Phil, struck by a
sudden idea.

“Has Lieutenant Gebauer seen him?” questioned Roger.

“I don’t know, but--er--I don’t think so,” added Nat falteringly. “Why
don’t you ask him and find out for yourself?”

“I will,” said the senator’s son. “Where is he?”

“Humph! don’t ask me.”

Something in Nat’s manner caused his former schoolmates further
surprise. Evidently he had something on his mind which he did not wish
to have leak out.

“Isn’t Lieutenant Gebauer here?” questioned Ben.

“No.”

“Why not? Was he shot or captured?” queried Phil.

“No, he wasn’t shot or captured,” grumbled the money lender’s son. “He
has lost his commission and been sent to the rear, if you must know!”
he flared out.

“You don’t say!” burst out Roger and Phil simultaneously. Here was news
indeed.

“What caused it, Nat? He must have done something awful to have such a
thing happen to him,” remarked Ben.

“They said it was for cowardice in the face of the enemy. I don’t know
anything about it, because I wasn’t with our company at the time. I ate
something that didn’t agree with me and was on the sick list.”

“Who made the charge against Gebauer?” asked Roger, quickly.

“The major of our battalion. He was as mad as a hornet. Some one said
he threatened to shoot the lieutenant. It seems Gebauer gave some sort
of an order for the men to retreat when everybody wanted to advance.
I guess he was terribly scared. Anyway, he started to run, and that
threw all the men into confusion until the top sergeant came along and
rallied our boys and sent them ahead again. It was a fierce mix-up,
and Gebauer got it not only from the major, but also from the captain
and some of the other officers of the regiment. Then they took him to
headquarters, and the next thing I knew he had been sent to the rear.”

“Well, that sure is a come-down for Gebauer,” murmured Phil. “Gee! I
wouldn’t have that happen to me for the world.”

“He’ll be disgraced for the rest of his life,” added Ben.

“I guess the best thing you can do, Nat, is to steer clear of such
cattle,” said the senator’s son. “No one will ever want to forgive a
fellow who was a coward in the face of the enemy.”

“Oh, I’m done with Gebauer; so you don’t have to preach to me about
that,” growled the money lender’s son sourly. “I found out what he
was quite some time ago.” And then, after a few more words, Nat Poole
marched away from the others, looking anything but happy.

“He acts as if he had something on his mind,” was the way Ben expressed
himself.

“Probably he is very much upset over the way Gebauer acted,” returned
Phil. “The pair were quite chummy, if you’ll remember.”

“There was something about that Gebauer I never liked,” said Roger
slowly. “He always made me think of a snake in the grass. I’ve got half
a notion that he was a pro-German. Maybe his cowardice was all put on.
He may have just been acting that way trying to help the enemy to a
victory.”

“Gosh! If that’s so, he ought to be exposed!” cried Ben.

“Probably he has been exposed. They wouldn’t send him to the rear for
nothing.”

The next day the battle was on again in all its fury. The Americans
advanced through one of the villages, and then up a long hillside
leading to some new positions which the Germans had fortified. There
was much for both the infantry and the artillery to do, and the
bombardment by the small and big guns kept up night and day, until the
ground fairly trembled with the concussions.

There was much for the engineers to do, and Roger and his chums worked
for sixteen hours, scarcely stopping to eat. They had a road to cut
through one of the forests, and had also to build several small bridges.

It was highly dangerous work, and more than once a bomb exploded close
to them, sending the dirt and rocks flying in every direction. Once
Shadow went down, struck in the head, and some of the others had to
carry him to the rear. He was not dangerously wounded, however, for
which he was thankful.

In the midst of the work by the engineers, some of the infantry
advanced once more. This embraced the company to which Nat Poole
belonged, and a little later came another bombardment by the Germans
which sent the trees and brushwood flying in all directions, so that
that section of the forest became little less than an inferno.

“Gee, but this is getting hot!” ejaculated Phil, after a bomb had
exploded close in front of them, sending sticks of wood, rocks, and a
shower of dirt flying in all directions.

The engineers were ordered to move to the right, making their way as
best they could through a tangle of brushwood. Roger and Phil were side
by side when they heard a sudden yell for help.

“That sounds like Nat Poole’s voice!” exclaimed Roger, and started on a
run for the spot whence the cry proceeded.

Phil followed his chum, and Ben came close behind the pair. Soon all
three reached a point where a shell had cut off two trees about five
feet up from the ground. The trunks of the trees had come down with
a tremendous crash one on top of the other, and both were lying in a
tangle of brushwood.

“Help, help!” was the cry, and now the chums felt certain it came from
the money lender’s son.

Soon they reached the vicinity of the fallen trees. Here the jumble of
tree limbs and brushwood was so thick they could scarcely see into it.
From the midst continued to come the cry for help.

“Is that you, Nat?” called out Roger.

“Yes, yes! Save me! Save me!” screamed the money lender’s son. “These
trees are choking the life out of me!”

Fortunately, Roger and Ben were armed with axes, while Phil carried
a crowbar. Worming their way in among the tangle of brushwood and
branches, they presently came to the place where Nat lay. He was flat
on his back with the weight of one of the trees resting heavily upon
his stomach.

“We’ll have to chop him loose,” said Phil, after a hasty survey of the
situation. They saw that it would be practically impossible for them to
raise up that mass of fallen timber.

With the roar of battle raging all around them, the young engineers set
to work with the axes, and in less than ten minutes had chopped away
two of the tree limbs. Then another was pried to one side by Ben and
Phil, and while this was done Roger dragged the money lender’s son to a
safe position.

Nat was so weak he could scarcely stand, and Roger and Ben supported
him as they led the way out of the tangle. Then they fell in with
several soldiers belonging to Nat’s company.

“You had better take charge of this fellow,” said Roger to one of the
men. “I don’t know how badly he has been hurt. A couple of trees came
down on top of him.”

“My stomach is smashed!” groaned Nat dolefully. “I know I’ll never be
able to walk straight again! I am done for!” And then, as a sudden
twinge of pain seized him, he went on with a sob: “I knew it! I knew I
would have to suffer! I had no right to do what I did! Oh, what shall
I do? What shall I do?” And then, suddenly throwing up both hands, Nat
Poole fell in a dead faint.




CHAPTER XXVIII

THE GERMAN HEADQUARTERS


Scarcely daring to breathe, Dave kept himself near the top of the
tree, doing what he could to hide from the observation of the five
German soldiers below. He knew that they most likely had discovered the
raincoat, the package of food, and the rifle he had left at the foot
of the tree; and that being so, they would take it for granted that he
could not be far away.

He heard the five soldiers talking earnestly, and also heard them tear
open the package of food he had been carrying.

“Ha! he lives pretty high,” was the comment of one of the soldiers.
“Smoked bologna and potato salad! Very good! I think, comrades, we can
dispose of this in short order.”

“We certainly can,” returned another soldier, and the whole five, who
were evidently hungry, lost no time in disposing of what remained of
the food.

Making no noise, Dave succeeded in lowering himself to one of the
larger limbs of the tree. Then, as the soldiers continued to talk and
eat, having thrown themselves on the ground for that purpose, he
worked his way out on the limb until he was almost to the end.

Below him he could make out a mass of brushwood and also several rocks.
These partly screened the spot where he might land from the trunk of
the tree. But the distance to the ground was all of fifteen feet, and
our hero was by no means sure that he could make the drop in safety. If
he sprained an ankle or injured his foot, it would be all up with him.

“But I’ve got to take some chances,” he murmured to himself. “I don’t
intend to go back to one of their prison pens. Besides, having escaped
once, it may be that they would shoot me on sight.”

He gave himself a moment more of thought, and then, gritting his teeth,
suddenly swung out to the end of the limb and let his body drop.

As he came swiftly down he heard a yell of surprise from one of the
soldiers. Then all leaped up, grabbing their weapons as they did so.

Fortunately for our hero, he came down in some of the brushwood, and
this broke his fall to such an extent that he was not injured save for
a few scratches. Having landed, he leaped out of the bushes and then
sped through the woods at the best rate of speed he could command.

Crack! Crack! went one rifle after another, and the bullets whistled
uncomfortably close to him.

However, he was not struck, and soon the brushwood and the trees
screened him so completely that further shooting was out of the
question.

But Dave knew the German soldiers must be after him, and he kept on
running until he was well-nigh exhausted. He was going downhill at the
time, and he had to be careful that he did not pitch headlong over some
of the rough rocks which cropped out here and there on the hillside.

At the foot of the hill ran a small brook, and here he paused long
enough to get a drink. Then he walked along through the brook for quite
a distance, doing this that he might hide any trail that he had left
behind. He had heard that the enemy occasionally used hounds in getting
on the track of escaped prisoners.

Beyond the hill and the brook was a wide valley dotted with numerous
farms. Here the country was more or less open, and he wondered how he
could make another advance. He moved along the brook, and presently
came to an old stone bridge, over which ran a fairly good highway.

One side of the bridge was hidden in a mass of bushes, and here the
young lieutenant found a fairly good hiding-place. From this he did not
dare to venture until darkness had fallen, in the meantime keeping his
eyes and ears wide open for the possible appearance of the soldiers who
had discovered him. But they did not come that way, and he at last
concluded that he must have thrown them off the trail.

It was probably nine o’clock in the evening when Dave resolved to
resume his journey westward. He crawled out on the roadway just as a
farmer came along driving a box-wagon loaded with barrels.

“I wonder if I dare chance a ride?” he said to himself; and then, as
the back of the wagon passed him, he made a quick leap, landing between
several barrels. He wormed his way in between the barrels, finally
coming to a sitting position well hidden from the farmer, who sat on
the front seat driving.

Two hours passed, and in that time the wagon covered a distance of at
least twelve miles. The valley with its farms was left behind, and
they were beginning to ascend a slight rise of ground. Here there was
another patch of woods.

During the ride Dave discovered that one of the barrels in the wagon
contained apples and another pears, and he appropriated as much of this
fruit as he wished to eat.

“Get up there, you!” cried the farmer in German to his team. “We’ll
soon be there now, and I’ll be glad of it. This has been a long drive.”

Dave could see that they were approaching some sort of an estate, and
from the words of the farmer concluded that a stop was to be made
there. Consequently, he thought it about time for him to leave the
wagon, and lost no time in doing so.

This move was a fortunate one for our hero, because less than two
minutes later the wagon turned in at a massive stone gateway where
several men were on guard. Seeing the lights flashing in the darkness
and the figures of some men moving along, Dave lost no time in dropping
out of sight into the woods on the opposite side of the road.

“Well, I’m about twelve miles nearer the fighting front, anyway,” he
reasoned. “I suppose from now on I’ve got to be doubly careful as to
how I advance.”

With the coming of nightfall the rumble of battle had died away. But
from the sounds of the last shots fired, he had reached the conclusion
that the fighting front could not be any great distance off.

As the young lieutenant hid in the woods opposite the gateway he heard
a sound on the road from the westward, and presently several German
officers on horseback came riding along. They were talking earnestly,
and turned into the same gate which the farmer had used.

“Hello! maybe that’s some sort of headquarters,” Dave murmured to
himself. “If it is, I had better watch out for myself. They must have
guards all around here.”

It would have been the part of prudence for our hero to have placed
as much distance as possible between himself and such a place. But
the young lieutenant had not only the bravery of the average American
soldier, but he had likewise his share of curiosity, and now that
he was so close to these German officers he wondered how they were
carrying on the conduct of the war.

“I’d like to spy on them a little and see just how they do it,” he told
himself. “Gracious! what a story it will be to tell if ever I get back!”

His curiosity finally got the better of him, and, watching his
opportunity, he slipped across the road again and then climbed the
stone fence of the estate. He knew he was taking a tremendous chance,
for there might not only be soldiers in that vicinity, but the owner of
the place might have a number of watch-dogs.

Looking ahead through the trees and brushwood, the young lieutenant
presently made out a large stone-pile, evidently an ancient German
castle. All was dark from the outside save the light which peered from
around the cracks of dark curtains pulled down over the windows. But as
the night was warm, most of the windows were open and the air blowing
would occasionally shift a curtain so that a look inside could be
obtained.

There seemed to be no soldiers on that side of the building, so our
hero had little difficulty in making his way forward until he was
within a short distance of the castle. He could hear loud and earnest
talking coming from probably six or eight officers. They were gathered
in a room not far from where he was standing, and when the wind raised
the curtain of one of the windows for a few seconds, Dave saw that
they were seated around a large table containing a number of maps and
documents.

“And you think the Crown Prince will be here to-night?” questioned one
of the officers presently.

“That’s what he said, Captain Baska,” was the reply.

“I doubt if he will agree to this plan,” came from another officer.
“Probably he will have a plan of his own,” he added, rather sourly.

The discussion continued, the officers in the meantime consulting the
maps and some of the documents which lay before them. All were smoking
and to let in some fresh air, one of the curtains of a window was
raised several inches.

Presently there was a commotion at the front of the castle, and a
moment later an under officer came into the room somewhat out of breath.

“The Crown Prince!” he announced.

Instantly all of the officers in the room arose to their feet and left
the apartment, evidently intending to greet the German Crown Prince at
the entrance to the castle.

Peering under the curtain into the room, Dave saw that the apartment
was empty. The table where the officers had sat was less than two feet
away, and on it still rested the maps and the documents they had been
consulting.

It was an opportunity too good to be lost. Though he was running a
tremendous risk, Dave raised the curtain to the window a trifle higher,
threw his body over the window sill, and stretched out his hands toward
the table. With a quick move he gathered in the maps and the documents,
rolled them into a bundle, and pulled them toward him. Then he dropped
from the window again, pulled down the curtain, and ran with all
possible speed toward the rear of the castle.

“Now if they catch me they’ll kill me sure,” he thought. “But they are
not going to catch me if I can possibly help it.”

He rolled the maps and the documents still tighter, and thrust them
into an inside pocket, buttoning his coat tightly over them. Then he
continued on his way until he reached the stone fence, over which he
climbed with little difficulty.

Fortunately for the young lieutenant, the night was clear, so that when
his eyes became accustomed to the semi-darkness he managed to progress
fairly well. He stumbled on and on until he reached the roadway once
more, and then headed westward as before. He listened for an alarm
from the castle, but strange to say it did not come.

“I guess they haven’t gone back to that room yet,” he thought. “Well, I
hope they don’t go back until I’m a long distance away.”

He kept to the highway for about two miles further, and then, reaching
the outskirts of a small village, turned slightly to the northward.
Here there was another patch of woods, and into this he plunged,
finally reaching a place where he thought it would be safe to sit down
and make up his mind what to do next.

Dave had rested a quarter of an hour when suddenly he heard a noise
about a hundred yards further within the wood. Then, of a sudden, came
a roar which almost deafened him. This roar was followed by others,
until the very ground under him seemed to tremble.

He leaped to his feet, and with good reason. With that opening roar
came a discovery which interested him tremendously. He had reached the
vicinity of the fighting front without knowing it. Directly in front of
him was one of the German batteries, and it was now in full action.

[Illustration: WITH A QUICK MOVE HE GATHERED IN THE MAPS AND
DOCUMENTS.--_Page 287._]




CHAPTER XXIX

THE LAST FIGHT


“They must be getting ready for an advance, or else they are trying
to hold back the advance of our own men.” Such was the thought of the
young lieutenant as the German battery continued to pound away with
unusual vigor.

The bombing soon covered a distance of many miles, showing that a move
of some sort was either taking place or was contemplated.

“Maybe if there is a real battle it will give me a chance to get
through the lines,” Dave reasoned, and his heart gave a bound of hope.
If he could only get through quickly and reach headquarters, perhaps
the maps and documents he had confiscated from the enemy might prove of
great value to the Americans.

Climbing a tree, our hero surveyed the situation as well as the
semi-darkness permitted. He could see numerous flashes of fire from the
great German guns along a line which stretched out as far as his eye
could reach.

The young lieutenant knew he would be running a tremendous risk to
attempt to pass through that line, and yet he felt he must undertake
to do this if he was to escape at all. He descended from the tree, and
with great caution moved slowly through the brushwood, making sure
of every step that was in front of him. Once or twice he thought he
was coming upon a German guard, but these alarms proved false, and he
continued on his way with as great caution as before.

As he advanced he presently made out the forms of a small body of men
moving across a corner of a field in the direction of a patch of timber
much mutilated by artillery fire. Even at that distance and in such a
dim light, he felt sure that the moving men were Germans.

“It’s a night raid of some sort,” he reasoned. “Maybe they are going
over to see if they can’t get hold of some Americans and make them
prisoners. Probably they want some information and that is the only way
they can get it.”

Hardly knowing why he was doing it, Dave followed the Germans until he
saw them disappear among the trees of the wood. Then he came to a hole,
and just as some star shells flamed forth, lighting up the scene, he
dropped down into this.

For several seconds the light in the hole was quite distinct, and
during that time our hero made a discovery that shocked him. A German
lay in the hole, holding his rifle in his hands as if ready to use the
weapon instantly.

With a quick leap Dave sprang for this man, taking him completely by
surprise. The fellow struggled to rise, but the young lieutenant held
him down, and at the same time made a quick grab for the gun, tearing
it from the German’s grasp.

“_Kamerad! Kamerad!_” yelled the German, when Dave turned the weapon
around and pointed it at his head. “_Kamerad!_” he repeated, and at the
same time both of his hands went high into the air.

“Quiet!” ordered Dave in German, and the fellow understood and kept
still. Then our hero made the man turn around in the hole and, watching
him carefully, deprived the fellow of his ammunition.

With the gun and the bayonet ready for use, our hero felt somewhat
relieved. If attacked, he would now have a chance to defend himself.

With the dying out of the star shells the darkness again settled over
that vicinity. Dave ordered the man to move out of the shell-hole, and
then told him to march on, keeping his hands up as before. The fellow
walked with a slight limp, showing that he had either been wounded or
had hurt himself.

Knowing that the body of Germans he had seen must still be in the
wood, Dave gave that vicinity a wide berth, moving somewhat to the
southward. This presently brought him to another small strip of wood.

And then the unexpected happened.

As if by magic fully a dozen Germans leaped up from where they had been
concealed. All pointed their guns at him, but not a shot was fired,
for, as he had surmised, several detachments were out in an endeavor
to obtain prisoners from whom they expected to elicit much-needed
information.

The young lieutenant’s fighting blood was up. He had no desire to go
back to a German prison, and the instant the enemy showed themselves,
he began to blaze away with his rifle, running at top speed for the
shelter of the wood as he did so. He had the satisfaction of seeing one
of the Germans go down, and a second quickly followed. Then came the
discharge of several of the enemy’s firearms, and Dave felt a hot flash
of pain through his right side.

“I’m shot! They’ve got me!” was the thought that flashed through his
mind, and yet he did not stop, but continued to run and to use his gun.
After him, but at a distance, came the Germans, determined to make him
a prisoner or shoot him down.

“Stop!” came the sudden cry from in front of our hero, and he saw
several soldiers rise up from the brushwood, all leveling their rifles
at him. “Hands up!”

“Are you Americans?” questioned Dave quickly, for the darkness was too
intense for him to distinguish what they were.

“You bet!” was the laconic response. “Who are you?”

Dave told them, advancing as he did so. And then he added quickly:
“There are about a dozen or fifteen German soldiers after me--some kind
of raiding party.”

“That’s the party we are after,” was the quick reply, from a captain
who was commanding the Americans. “Boys, are you ready to round them
up?”

“We sure are!” was the ready response.

“Can you show us just where those fellows are?” questioned the captain
of Dave.

“I can! They were after me just a minute ago. They must be lying low in
yonder brushwood. If you had a few hand-grenades you could get every
one of them.”

“We’d rather surround them and take them as prisoners,” returned the
captain. “I think I’ve got just the men here to do it.”

He had about thirty-five men with him, all of whom had volunteered for
the night expedition. He quickly explained what was wanted, and then
the men spread out, one party going to the right and the other to the
left of where the Germans had last been seen.

“Can’t I go along, Captain?” questioned Dave eagerly. “I had one
prisoner a few minutes ago, but those fellows stole him away from me.”

“Of course you can go if you want to, Lieutenant,” was the captain’s
reply. “I reckon you are spoiling for a fight just as we are,” he
continued. He was a Southern military man and well known for his daring.

The Americans advanced quickly but with caution, and before they knew
it the Germans found themselves cut off in the rear. They put up a
short and stiff fight, in which one of their men was killed and three
were wounded, and then they surrendered.

In this contest Dave distinguished himself by bringing down one of the
enemy and also in recapturing the German who had a little while before
gotten away from him.

All of the prisoners were rounded up, disarmed, and made to march
toward the American lines. While this was being done Dave staggered
over to the side of the American captain.

“I’ve been wounded in the side, Captain,” he said. “I don’t believe
it’s very serious, but at the same time I am feeling rather weak. I
have important maps and documents with me which I stole from the German
headquarters. I wish to get these to our headquarters just as quickly
as possible. Will you help me to do it?”

“I certainly will, Lieutenant,” was the ready response. “Do you want
me to send some of the men to headquarters with the documents or do
you want to go yourself? If you would rather go yourself, I’ll send a
couple of men to assist you.”

“I think I’d rather go myself,” answered Dave, with a faint grin. “But
I’ll have to fix up my wound first.”

With a first-aid kit the slight wound in Dave’s side was taken care
of temporarily, and then, in company with two of the soldiers, the
young lieutenant tramped off in the direction of the American field
headquarters. He had previously learned that the engineering unit to
which he was attached was located several miles away.

Fortunately the distance to headquarters was not great, and the young
lieutenant and those with him arrived there at midnight. Dave was about
all in, yet he managed to make his report and deliver the maps and
documents he had taken from the German headquarters.

“This is certainly fine work, Lieutenant Porter,” said one of the
commanding officers, who was in charge. “Very fine work indeed! These
maps and documents may prove of great importance.”

“I hope so, sir. That is why I took them,” answered the young
lieutenant in an unsteady voice. Then, of a sudden, all seemed to grow
black before his eyes and he staggered and would have fallen had not
some of those around supported him.

“This strain has been too much for you, Lieutenant,” said another of
the officers kindly. “I think we had better turn you over to one of our
doctors immediately.” And this was done, and Dave was given the best of
medical attention. Then he was fed and put to bed, and in a short while
was in sound slumber. This was in one of the dugouts, where he was safe
from the bombardment, which still continued.

Early on the following morning another advance was made by the
Americans. This was due in part to the maps and documents which Dave
had brought in and which proved the weakness of the Germans at one
point on the line. This point was carried a few hours later by our
troops; and then followed a general advance which continued almost
uninterruptedly for three days.

“We’ve got ’em on the run!” was the cry of the Americans, and it proved
true. The Germans were practically beaten, although they were still
holding out as well as they possibly could, hoping in the meantime that
their rulers might make some satisfactory terms with those who opposed
them.

It was a rather pale and weak Lieutenant Porter who entered the camp of
the engineers just as the fierce three days’ fighting had come to an
end. He had already sent in word over a field telephone that he was
alive and was coming, so that his chums were not as much surprised as
they would otherwise have been. Yet they hailed his advent with great
joy.

“It’s the best news yet, Dave!” cried Roger, grabbing him around the
waist. “The very best yet!”

“You can’t imagine how bad we felt when we thought the Germans had
killed you,” put in Phil.

“We went on all sorts of hunts for you,” added Ben. “But, of course, we
didn’t find you, and we couldn’t imagine what had become of you.”

“I suppose you don’t know yet how I happened to be missing,” said our
hero. “It’s a long story, but I’ll tell it to you just as soon as I’ve
rested.”

“We know something of the truth,” answered Roger, and a stern look
crossed his face. “We know who assaulted you and rolled you down into
the abandoned mine.”

“You do!” exclaimed Dave, in surprise. “That’s more than I know! Who
did it?”

“Max Gebauer and Nat Poole.”




CHAPTER XXX

CAPTAIN DAVID PORTER--CONCLUSION


“Gebauer and Poole! You don’t mean it!” exclaimed the young lieutenant.

“But I do mean it,” answered the senator’s son. “They are the ones who
attacked you and rolled you down one of the shafts of the mines. It’s a
great wonder you weren’t killed.”

“But how did you learn of this, Roger?”

“It’s a pretty long story, Dave; and as you look rather weak, perhaps
you had better sit down while I tell it.”

Roger and the others led the way to where our hero could be made
comfortable, and there, while he was treated to some refreshments,
they gave him many of the particulars of what had occurred during his
absence.

“I guess I had better tell you about Max Gebauer first,” said the
senator’s son. “During one of the advances of our army, he acted in
a most disgraceful manner, urging a part of his company to retreat.
They saw no good reason for doing it, and a sergeant led them in the
advance. For this Gebauer was accused of cowardice in the face of the
enemy.”

“Phew! that’s rather a serious charge.”

“But that isn’t the worst of it!” broke in Phil. “Do you remember the
German prisoner who saw Gebauer and talked to him--the fellow you
afterwards interviewed?”

“I do.”

“Well, it seems Gebauer visited that fellow while he was at a
prisoners’ camp, and the two got into a regular row. This, of course,
was before Gebauer showed his so-called cowardice.

“Well, the secret service men made an investigation and discovered that
Gebauer and this prisoner had once been in a questionable business deal
in Germany. Gebauer was wanted there for swindling several people, and
this chap had been bought off to keep silent, but had never received a
large part of the money promised to him by Gebauer. Then the American
authorities dipped deeper into the matter, and I understand they have
now come to the conclusion that Gebauer’s cowardice was largely put on,
and that he was in a plan with some German sympathizers to play into
the enemy’s hands. As a consequence Lieutenant Max Gebauer, pro-German,
is now languishing in a military prison.”

“And you can bet he isn’t a lieutenant any more!” declared Ben.

“Well, that explains some things, but it doesn’t explain how you
learned that he and Nat Poole attacked me,” said Dave. “Of course, I
imagined it might be them, but I wasn’t sure. I really didn’t think
they would go so far.”

“Nat says he was dragged into it. But, of course, that may be all talk.
Nat always did like to squirm out of a tight place,” went on Roger.

He then related how the money lender’s son had been in the great fight
and almost lost his life. His injuries had necessitated his being sent
to the hospital, and there, while in a fever, he had continually spoken
about Dave and of the attack on the young lieutenant.

“He went on so awfully that the nurse notified one of the doctors, and
he in turn called in an army officer. In his rational moments Nat was
closely questioned, and in the end he broke down and made a complete
confession.

“He said that he wanted to get square with you for the way he had been
treated, but he had not imagined that Gebauer would go so far. He had
struck you once, but it was only a light blow, and Gebauer had given
you the crack that almost finished you. And he insisted that it was
Gebauer who rolled you into the opening of the mine. He said he was
scared at this, and remonstrated, but Gebauer would not listen to him.
He even made a search for your body, but, of course, did not find it.
He said he was terribly worried, and I shouldn’t wonder but what that
was so.”

“It was a dastardly thing to do!” declared Dave. “And I am glad that
both Gebauer and Nat have been caught. I guess each of them will get
what is coming to him without my making any charge against them.”

“I don’t know about that, Dave. Perhaps you’ll have to see headquarters
on that point,” answered Roger.

Of course all the others were glad to see our hero. Captain Obray came
up to shake hands, and so did Frank Andrews and a number of the other
fighting engineers. All had their stories to tell, and all praised Dave
greatly for what he had accomplished at the German headquarters and
during the fight when he was trying to get back to the American lines.

“The authorities won’t forget you for what you have done,” said Captain
Obray. “It was simply great, and I congratulate you with all my heart.”
The captain himself had done some wonderful work during the last great
advance by the Americans, leading a wire-cutting detachment in person
over a stretch of territory where the bullets and shrapnel were flying
freely. For this the captain received special mention and was, later
on, advanced to the position of major of engineers.

Dave, of course, had been reported as missing, but now his name was
placed back on the roll. He lost no time in sending long letters to the
folks at home, acquainting them with what had taken place.

Awaiting him was a bunch of letters from his father and his sister, as
well as from Jessie, and these, my readers may rest assured, he read
with great eagerness.

“Dear, dear folks at home!” he murmured to himself, after he had read
one of Jessie’s letters a second time. “How glad I am that this war is
almost over. I’ll be mighty glad to get back to them once more!”

       *       *       *       *       *

And now let us pass over a period of some months and then bring this
tale of Dave Porter’s war activities to an end.

As our hero had remarked, the war was almost over. Deserted by her
allies and beaten back on the fields of battle, Germany could hold
out no longer, and so begged for an armistice, which, when granted,
was so severe in its terms that its acceptance was equal to Germany’s
complete surrender. She gave up her entire navy, the second largest in
the world, abandoned all the territory she had invaded, and in addition
allowed the United States and the Allies to occupy a large portion of
her own country along the Rhine.

“It’s a complete collapse,” was the way Dave expressed himself when
this had taken place; and the young lieutenant was right. The signing
of the armistice was followed some time later by the opening of the
real peace negotiations.

And while all these things were taking place something occurred to
make our hero’s heart bound with pleasure. He was cited for special
bravery in obtaining the maps and the documents from the German field
headquarters, and also for his daring in the fight which had followed
during his endeavor to get back to the American lines. For these deeds
he was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross, and a little later
obtained a commission as a full-fledged captain of engineers.

“Dave, I congratulate you!” cried Roger, when he heard this news.

“And so do I,” added Phil. “And you deserve it, Dave, indeed you do!”

It may be added here that our hero was not the only one to obtain
promotion. For their heroic work in road building and in cutting wire
entanglements under heavy fire, both Roger and Phil were given medals
and made lieutenants, while Ben became a sergeant and Shadow and Buster
corporals.

“And now I’ve got to congratulate you fellows,” said Dave to Roger,
Phil, and the others. “I tell you, old Oak Hall can be proud of this
bunch!”

“That’s what!” answered Phil.

“What a shame Nat Poole had to act the way he did,” said Ben. “He’s the
one bad egg in the basket.”

It may be added here that later on, when he had recovered from his
illness, Nat Poole was dishonorably discharged from the army, and went
back home a sadder if not a wiser young man. Max Gebauer was tried for
his various misdeeds, and found guilty and sentenced to a long term in
prison.

“I hope Nat has learned his lesson and turns over a new leaf after
this,” remarked Dave, on hearing this news. “In spite of what he has
done against me, I bear him no ill will.” Later still he heard that Nat
had obtained a position as a traveling salesman for a hardware house
and was doing his best to make good in that capacity.

It was a great day for the young engineers when they set sail for home.
Other engineering units had come to France and were at the front,
and it was felt that those who had gone through so many thrilling
experiences had done all that could be asked of them.

“Home, sweet home, for me!” sang out Phil. “I never did think America
could mean so much to me!”

“It’s the best of all the places in which to live,” answered Dave. “The
very best!”

The home-coming was one long to be remembered. Jessie was at the depot
to greet Dave, and as soon as he alighted from the train she fairly
rushed into his arms.

“Oh, I hope you never have to go to another war, Dave--never!” she
cried, as he held her close.

“Well, I’m hoping, Jessie, that this war will prove to be the last
one,” he answered.

Roger, as well as Ben, had come on to Crumville with Dave, and the
greeting the senator’s son received from Laura was equally cordial,
while Ben was not forgotten by his folks and the others.

Dave kissed his sister several times and shook hands with his father
and his Uncle Dunston, and all finally got into the two Wadsworth
automobiles and drove to the mansion.

Here Mrs. Wadsworth awaited them, and kissed Dave over and over again,
and Mr. Wadsworth shook hands heartily. And there, too, was old Caspar
Potts, his eyes full of a kindly sympathy which could not be mistaken.

“My Davy! My Davy!” he murmured over and over again. “I knew you would
do it! Oh, Davy, how proud I am of you!”

“And just to think--it’s Captain David Porter now!” cried Uncle
Dunston. “Some pumpkins for this family, I do declare!”

“And Lieutenant Morr--don’t forget that!” added Laura, her face
beaming.

“And it’s Lieutenant Lawrence, too,” said Roger.

“Why didn’t he come along?” questioned Mr. Porter.

“Oh, he had a date with Belle Endicott. She and her folks came all the
way from Montana to New York City to greet him.”

That night there was a great celebration at the Wadsworth mansion, many
friends dropping in to greet Dave and Roger and congratulate them on
their promotions. Of course, the young captain and the young lieutenant
were in their new uniforms and Dave even wore a new wrist-watch his
father gave him to replace the one lost in France, and if Jessie and
Laura felt very proud of their fiancés, who can blame them?

The young engineers had to tell the particulars of many of the things
which had happened to them during the war and had even to show some of
the scars which had been inflicted.

“Oh, Dave, I am so very thankful that you didn’t come back minus an
arm or a leg!” cried Jessie. “I’m so very, very thankful! After this
whenever I meet a soldier who has been crippled I shall treat him with
the greatest consideration, for now I understand a little of what he
must have endured.”

“Yes, Jessie, they will deserve all the consideration you can give
them,” the young captain answered gravely. “They are the real
heroes--the fellows who will have to endure long after the shouting and
the excitement have died out.”

       *       *       *       *       *

Some time later there was another gala affair at the Wadsworth mansion.
This was the occasion of a double wedding, when the beautiful Jessie
Wadsworth became the bride of Captain David Porter and the bewitching
Laura Porter paired off with Lieutenant Roger Morr.

At this double wedding Lieutenant Philip Lawrence was the best man for
Dave, and Sergeant Benjamin Basswood was the best man for Roger. Among
the bridesmaids was Belle Endicott, who had come all the way from her
home in the West to be present.

There was also present a large contingent from Oak Hall, including
Doctor Clay, the master, and Andrew Dale, his head assistant. Of course
Buster Beggs and Shadow Hamilton were on hand, as were also Luke
Watson, Sam Day, Bertram Vane, and some others of the old crowd.

The gifts to the brides were both numerous and costly, and both couples
received the heartiest congratulations of all present.

“We’ve got to do likewise pretty soon, Belle,” whispered Phil to the
girl from Montana, and at this she blushed and smiled. It was not long
after that when this couple was also married, a host of their friends,
including Dave and Roger and their wives, being present.

Dave and Jessie had already decided on where they were going to live.
Mr. Porter had purchased for them a beautiful house and grounds not far
from the Wadsworth mansion, and here they set up housekeeping and were
very happy.

Laura and Roger went to the old Morr homestead to live, the senator and
his wife at that time spending practically all their time in Washington.

Phil and Belle went to reside in Philadelphia, where the young shipping
master had most of his interests.

For Dave and Jessie and all their friends the future looked very rosy;
and here we will leave them and say good-bye.


THE END




DAVE PORTER SERIES

By EDWARD STRATEMEYER

  12mo   Cloth   Illustrated   $1.25 Net, each


“Mr. Stratemeyer has seldom introduced a more popular hero than Dave
Porter. He is a typical boy, manly, brave, always ready for a good time
if it can be obtained in an honorable way.”--_Wisconsin, Milwaukee,
Wis._

“Edward Stratemeyer’s ‘Dave Porter’ has become exceedingly
popular.”--_Boston Globe._

“Dave and his friends are nice, manly chaps.”--_Times-Democrat, New
Orleans._

  DAVE PORTER AT OAK HALL
           Or The School Days of an American Boy

  DAVE PORTER IN THE SOUTH SEAS
           Or The Strange Cruise of the _Stormy Petrel_

  DAVE PORTER’S RETURN TO SCHOOL
           Or Winning the Medal of Honor

  DAVE PORTER IN THE FAR NORTH
           Or The Pluck of an American Schoolboy

  DAVE PORTER AND HIS CLASSMATES
           Or For the Honor of Oak Hall

  DAVE PORTER AT STAR RANCH
           Or The Cowboy’s Secret

  DAVE PORTER AND HIS RIVALS
           Or The Chums and Foes of Oak Hall

  DAVE PORTER ON CAVE ISLAND
           Or A Schoolboy’s Mysterious Mission

  DAVE PORTER AND THE RUNAWAYS
           Or Last Days at Oak Hall

  DAVE PORTER IN THE GOLD FIELDS
           Or The Search for the Landslide Mine

  DAVE PORTER AT BEAR CAMP
           Or The Wild Man of Mirror Lake

  DAVE PORTER AND HIS DOUBLE
           Or The Disappearance of the Basswood Fortune

  DAVE PORTER’S GREAT SEARCH
           Or The Perils of a Young Civil Engineer

  DAVE PORTER UNDER FIRE
           Or A Young Army Engineer in France

  DAVE PORTER’S WAR HONORS
           Or At the Front with the Fighting Engineers


For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by
the publishers

Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. Boston




_THE LAKEPORT SERIES_

By EDWARD STRATEMEYER

  12mo   Cloth   Illustrated   $1.25 Net, each


[Illustration]

“The author of the Lakeport Series, Mr. Edward Stratemeyer, is well
known for his delightful boys’ stories.”--_Philadelphia Ledger._

“The Lakeport Series, by Edward Stratemeyer, is the lineal descendant
of the better class of boys’ books of a generation ago.”--_Christian
Advocate, New York._

“The Lakeport Series will be fully as popular as the author’s Dave
Porter Series.”--_San Francisco Call._

  THE GUN CLUB BOYS OF LAKEPORT
           Or The Island Camp

  THE BASEBALL BOYS OF LAKEPORT
           Or The Winning Run

  THE BOAT CLUB BOYS OF LAKEPORT
           Or The Water Champions

  THE FOOTBALL BOYS OF LAKEPORT
           Or More Goals Than One

  THE AUTOMOBILE BOYS OF LAKEPORT
           Or A Run for Fun and Fame

  THE AIRCRAFT BOYS OF LAKEPORT
           Or Rivals of the Clouds


LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., Publishers, Boston




TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:


  Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

  Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

  Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.

  Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.





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