[Illustration: "I AM--AMERICAN. MY NAME--IS TOM SLADE. " Frontispiece(Page 9)]

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TOM SLADEWITH THE BOYSOVER THERE

BYPERCY K. FITZHUGH

Author ofTOM SLADE, BOY SCOUTTOM SLADE AT TEMPLE CAMPTOM SLADE ON THE RIVERTOM SLADE ON A TRANSPORT

Illustrated byR. EMMETT OWEN

Published With the Approval ofTHE BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA

GROSSET & DUNLAPPUBLISHERS: NEW YORK

Made in the United States of America

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Copyright, 1918, byGROSSET & DUNLAP

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To

F. A. O. 

The real Tom Slade, whose extraordinary adventures on land and sea putthese storied exploits in the shade, this book is dedicated with enviousadmiration. 

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

 I THE HOME IN ALSACE 1 II AN APPARITION 5 III TOM'S STORY 12 IV THE OLD WINE VAT 22 V THE VOICE FROM THE DISTANCE 32 VI PRISONERS AGAIN 38 VII WHERE THERE'S A WILL---- 42 VIII THE HOME FIRE NO LONGER BURNS 51 IX FLIGHT 58 X THE SOLDIER'S PAPERS 64 XI THE SCOUT THROUGH ALSACE 72 XII THE DANCE WITH DEATH 79 XIII THE PRIZE SAUSAGE 84 XIV A RISKY DECISION 90 XV HE WHO HAS EYES TO SEE 97 XVI THE WEAVER OF MERNON 103 XVII THE CLOUDS GATHER 112 XVIII IN THE RHINE 118 XIX TOM LOSES HIS FIRST CONFLICT WITH THE ENEMY 124 XX A NEW DANGER 131 XXI COMPANY 137 XXII BREAKFAST WITHOUT FOOD CARDS 141 XXIII THE CATSKILL VOLCANO IN ERUPTION 145 XXIV MILITARY ETIQUETTE 155 XXV TOM IN WONDERLAND 162 XXVI MAGIC 167 XXVII NONNENMATTWEIHER 174XXVIII AN INVESTMENT 180 XXIX CAMOUFLAGE 184 XXX THE SPIRIT OF FRANCE 190 XXXI THE END OF THE TRAIL 196

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TOM SLADE WITH THE BOYS OVER THERE

CHAPTER I

THE HOME IN ALSACE

In the southwestern corner of the domains of Kaiser Bill, in a fairdistrict to which he has no more right than a highwayman has to hisvictim's wallet, there is a quaint old house built of gray stone andcovered with a clinging vine. 

In the good old days when Alsace was a part of France the old housestood there and was the scene of joy and plenty. In these evil days whenAlsace belongs to Kaiser Bill, it stands there, its dim arbor andpretty, flower-laden trellises in strange contrast to the lumbering armywagons and ugly, threatening artillery which pass along the quiet road. 

And if the prayers of its rightful owners are answered, it will stillstand there in the happy days to come when fair Alsace shall be a partof France again and Kaiser Bill and all his clanking claptrap are gonefrom it forever. 

The village in which this pleasant homestead stands is close up underthe boundary of Rhenish Bavaria, or Germany proper (or improper), and inthe happy days when Alsace was a part of France it had been known asLeteur, after the French family which for generations had lived in theold gray house. 

But long before Kaiser Bill knocked down Rheims Cathedral andblack-jacked Belgium and sank the Lusitania, he changed the name of thisold French village to Dundgardt, showing that even then he believed inFrightfulness; for that is what it amounted to when he changed Leteur toDundgardt. 

But he could not very well change the old family name, even if he couldchange the names of towns and villages in his stolen province, and oldPierre Leteur and his wife and daughter lived in the old house under thePrussian menace, and managed the vineyard and talked French on the sly. 

On a certain fair evening old Pierre and his wife and daughter sat inthe arbor and chatted in the language which they loved. The old man hadlost an arm in the fighting when his beloved Alsace was lost to Franceand he had come back here still young but crippled and broken-hearted, to live under the Germans because this was the home of his people. Hehad found the old house and the vineyard devastated. 

After a while he married an Alsatian girl very much younger thanhimself, and their son and daughter had grown up, German subjects it istrue, but hating their German masters and loving the old French Alsaceof which their father so often told them. 

While Florette was still a mere child she committed the heinous crime ofsinging the _Marseillaise_. The watchful Prussian authorities learned ofthis and a couple of Prussian soldiers came after her, for she mustanswer to the Kaiser for this terrible act of sedition. 

Her brother Armand, then a boy of sixteen, had shouted "_Vive laFrance!_" in the very faces of the grim soldiers and had struck one ofthem with all his young strength. 

In that blow spoke gallant, indomitable France!

For this act Armand might have been shot, but, being young and agile andthe German soldiers being fat and clumsy, he effected a flank move anddisappeared before they could lay hands on him and it was many a longday before ever his parents heard from him again. 

At last there came a letter from far-off America, telling of his flightacross the mountains into France and of his working his passage to theUnited States. How this letter got through the Prussian censorshipagainst all French Alsatians, it would be hard to say. But it was thefirst and last word from him that had ever reached the blighted home. 

After a while the storm cloud of the great war burst and then theprospect of hearing from Armand became more hopeless as the British navythrew its mighty arm across the ocean highway. And old Pierre, becausehe was a French veteran, was watched more suspiciously than ever. 

Florette was nearly twenty now, and Armand must be twenty-three or four, and they were talking of him on this quiet, balmy night, as they sattogether in the arbor. They spoke in low tones, for to talk in Frenchwas dangerous, they were already under the cloud of suspicion, and thevery trees in the neighborhood of a Frenchman's home seemed to haveears. . . . 

CHAPTER II

AN APPARITION

"But how could we hear from him now, Florette, any better than before?"the old man asked. 

"America is our friend now, " the girl answered, "and so good things musthappen. "

"Indeed, great things will happen, dear Florette, " her father laughed, "and our beloved Alsace will be restored and you shall sing the_Marseillaise_ again. _Vive l'Amerique!_ She has come to us at last!"

"Sh-h-h, " warned Madame Leteur, looking about; "because America hasjoined us is no reason we should not be careful. See how our neighbor LeFarge fared for speaking in the village but yesterday. It is gloriousnews, but we must be careful. "

"What did neighbor Le Farge say, mamma?"

"Sh-h-h. The news of it is not allowed. He said that some one told himthat when the American General Pershing came to France, he stood by thegrave of Lafayette and said, 'Lafayette, we are here. '"

"Ah, Lafayette, yes!" said the old man, his voice shaking with pride. 

"But we must not even know there is a great army of Americans here. Wemust know nothing. We must be blind and deaf, " said Madame Leteur, looking about her apprehensively. 

"America will bring us many good things, my sweet Florette, " said herfather more cautiously, "and she will bring triumph to our gallantFrance. But we must have patience. How can she send us letters fromArmand, my dear? How can she send letters to Germany, her enemy?"

"Then we shall never hear of him till the war is over?" the girl sighed. "Oh, it is my fault he went away! It was my heedless song and I cannotforgive myself. "

"The _Marseillaise_ is not a heedless song, Florette, " said old Pierre, "and when our brave boy struck the Prussian beast----"

"Sh-h-h, " whispered Madame Leteur quickly. 

"There is no one, " said the old man, peering cautiously into the bushes;"when he struck the Prussian beast, it was only what his father's sonmust do. Come, cheer up! Think of those noble words of America'sgeneral, 'Lafayette, we are here. ' If we have not letters from our son, still America has come to us. Is not this enough? She will strike thePrussian beast----"

"Sh-h-h!"

"There is no one, I tell you. She will strike the Prussian beast withher mighty arm harder than our poor noble boy could do with his younghand. Is it not so?"

The girl looked wistfully into the dusk. "I thought we would hear fromhim when we had the great news from America. "

"That is because you are a silly child, my sweet Florette, and thinkthat America is a magician. We must be patient. We do not even know allthat her great president said. We are fed with lies----"

"Sh-h-h!"

"And how can we hear from Armand, my dear, when the Prussians do noteven let us know what America's president said? All will be well in goodtime. "

"He is dead, " said the girl, uncomforted. "I have had a dream that he isdead. And it is I that killed him. "

"This is a silly child, " said old Pierre. 

"America is full of Prussians--spies, " said the girl, "and they have hisname on a list. They have killed him. They are murderers!"

"Sh-h-h, " warned her mother again. 

"Yes, they are murderers, " said old Pierre, "but this is a silly childto talk so. We have borne much silently. Can we not be a little patientnow?"

"I _hate_ them!" sobbed the girl, abandoning all caution. "They drovehim away and we will see him no more, --my brother--Armand!"

"Hush, my daughter, " her mother pleaded. "Listen! I heard a footstep. They are spying and have heard. "

For a moment neither spoke and there was no sound but the girl's quickbreaths as she tried to control herself. Then there was a slightrustling in the shrubbery and they waited in breathless suspense. 

"I knew it, " whispered Madame; "we are always watched. Now it has come. "

Still they waited, fearfully. Another sound, and old Pierre rose, pushedhis rustic chair from him and stood with a fine, soldierly air, waiting. His wife was trembling pitiably and Florette, her eyes wide with griefand terror, watched the dark bushes like a frightened animal. 

Suddenly the leaves parted and they saw a strange disheveled figure. Fora moment it paused, uncertain, then looked stealthily about and emergedinto the open. The stranger was hatless and barefoot and his wholeappearance was that of exhaustion and fright. When he spoke it was in astrange language and spasmodically as if he had been running hard. 

"Leteur?" he asked, looking from one to the other; "the name--Leteur? Ican't speak French, " he added, somewhat bewildered and clutching anupright of the arbor. 

"What do you wish here?" old Pierre demanded in French, never relaxinghis military air. 

The stranger leaned wearily against the arbor, panting, and even in thedusk they could see that he was young and very ragged, and with thewhiteness of fear and apprehension in his face and his staring eyes. 

"You German? French?" he panted. 

"We are French, " said Florette, rising. "I can speak ze Anglaise aleetle. "

"You are not German?" the visitor repeated as if relieved. 

"Only we are Zherman subjects, yess. Our name ees Leteur. "

"I am--American. My name--is Tom Slade. I escaped from the prison acrossthere. My--my pal escaped with me----"

The girl looked pityingly at him and shook her head while her parentslistened curiously. "We are sorry, " she said, "so sorry; but you werenot wise to escape. We cannot shelter you. We are suspect already. "

"I have brought you news of Armand, " said Tom. "I can't--can't talk. Weran----Here, take this. He--he gave it to me--on the ship. "

He handed Florette a little iron button, which she took with a tremblinghand, watching him as he clutched the arbor post. 

"From Armand? You know heem?" she asked, amazed. "You are American?"

"He's American, too, " said Tom, "and he's with General Pershing inFrance. We're goin' to join him if you'll help us. "

For a moment the girl stared straight at him, then turning to her fathershe poured out such a volley of French as would have staggered the grimauthorities of poor Alsace. What she said the fugitive could notimagine, but presently old Pierre stepped forward and, throwing his onearm about the neck of the young American, kissed him several times withgreat fervor. 

Tom Slade was not used to being kissed by anybody and he was greatlyabashed. However, it might have been worse. What would he ever havedone if the girl who spoke English in such a hesitating, pretty way hadtaken it into _her_ head to kiss him?

CHAPTER III

TOM'S STORY

"You needn't be afraid, " said Tom; "we didn't leave any tracks; we cameacross the fields--all the way from the crossroads down there. Wecrawled along the fence. There ain't any tracks. I looked out for that. "

Pausing in suspense, yet encouraged by their expectant silence, he spoketo some one behind him in the bushes and there emerged a young fellowquite as ragged as himself. 

"It's all right, " said Tom confidently, and apparently in great relief. "It's them. "

"You must come inside ze house, " whispered Florette fearfully. "It isnot safe to talk here. "

"There isn't any one following us, " said Tom's companion reassuringly. "If we can just get some old clothes and some grub we'll be all right. "

"Zere is much danger, " said the girl, unconvinced. "We are alwayswatched. But you are friends to Armand. We must help you. "

She led the way into the house and into a simply furnished room lightedby a single lamp and as she cautiously shut the heavy wooden blinds andlowered the light, the two fugitives looked eagerly at the first signsof home life which they had seen in many a long day. 

It was in vain that the two Americans declined the wine which old Pierreinsisted upon their drinking. 

"You will drink zhust a leetle--yess?" said the girl prettily. "It ismake in our own veenyard. "

So the boys sipped a little of the wine and found it grateful to theirweary bodies and overwrought nerves. 

"Now you can tell us--of Armand, " she said eagerly. 

Often during Tom's simple story she stole to the window and, opening theblind slightly, looked fearfully along the dark, quiet road. The veryatmosphere of the room seemed charged with nervous apprehension andevery sound of the breeze without startled the tense nerves of thelittle party. 

Old Pierre and his wife, though quite unable to understand, listenedkeenly to every word uttered by the strangers, interrupting theirdaughter continually to make her translate this or that sentence. 

"There ain't so much need to worry, " said Tom, with a kind of doggedself-confidence that relieved Florette not a little. "I wouldn't ofheaded for here if I hadn't known I could do it without leaving anytrace, 'cause I wouldn't want to get you into trouble. "

Florette looked intently at the square, dull face before her with itsbig mouth and its suggestion of a frown. His shock of hair, alwaysrebellious, was now in utter disorder. He was barefoot and his clotheswere in that condition which only the neglect and squalor of a Germanprison camp can produce. But in his gaunt face there shone a look ofdetermination and a something which seemed to encourage the girl tobelieve in him. 

"Are zey all like you--ze Americans?" she asked. 

"Some of 'em are taller than me, " he answered literally, "but I got agood chest expansion. This feller's name is Archer. He belongs on a farmin New York. "

She glanced at Archer and saw a round, red, merry face, still wearingthat happy-go-lucky look which there is no mistaking. His skin wascamouflaged by a generous coat of tan and those two strategic hills, hischeeks, had not been reduced by the assaults of hunger. There was, moreover, a look of mischief in his eyes, bespeaking a jauntyacceptance of whatever peril and adventure might befall and when hespoke he rolled his R's and screwed up his mouth accordingly. 

"Maybe you've heard of the Catskills, " said Tom. "That's where _he_lives. "

"My dad's got a big apple orrcharrd therre, " added Archer. 

Florette Leteur had not heard of the Catskills, but she had heard a gooddeal about the Americans lately and she looked from one to the other ofthis hapless pair, who seemed almost to have dropped from the clouds. 

"You have been not wise to escape, " she said sympathetically. "ZePrussians, zey are sure to catch you. --Tell me more of my bruzzer. "

"The Prussians ain't so smarrt, " said Archer. "They're good at somethings, but when it comes to tracking and trailing and all that, they'reno good. You neverr hearrd of any famous Gerrman scouts. They're clumsy. They couldn't stalk a mud turrtle. "

"You are not afraid of zem?"

"Surre, we ain't. Didn't we just put one overr on 'em?"

"We looped our trail, " explained Tom to the puzzled girl. "If they'reafter us at all they probably went north on a blind trail. We monkeyedthe trees all the way through this woods near here. "

"He means we didn't touch the ground, " explained Archer. 

"We made seven footprints getting across the road to the fence and thenwe washed 'em away by chucking sticks. And, anyway, we crossed the roadbackwards so they'd think we were going the other way. There ain't muchdanger--not tonight, anyway. "

Again the girl looked from one to the other and then explained to herfather as best she could. 

"You are wonderful, " she said simply. "We shall win ze war now. "

"I was working as a mess boy on a transport, " said Tom; "we brought overabout five thousand soldiers. That's how I got acquainted withFrenchy--I mean Armand----"

"Yes!" she cried, and at the mention of Armand old Pierre could scarcelykeep his seat. 

"He came with some soldiers from Illinois. That's out west. He wasgood-natured and all the soldiers jollied him. But he always said hedidn't mind that because they were all going to fight together to getAlsace back. Jollying means making fun of somebody--kind of, " Tomadded. 

"Oh, zat iss what he say?" Florette cried. "Zat iss mybrother--Armand--yess!"

She explained to her parents and then advanced upon Tom, who retreatedto his second line of defence behind a chair to save himself from theawful peril of a grateful caress. 

"He told me all about how your father fought in the Franco-PrussianWar, " Tom went on, "and he gave me this button and he said it was madefrom a cannon they used and----"

"Ah, yess, I know!" Florette exclaimed delightedly. 

"He said if I should ever happen to be in Alsace all I'd have to dowould be to show it to any French people and they'd help me. He said itwas a kind of--a kind of a vow all the French people had--that theGermans didn't know anything about. And 'specially families that had menin the Franco-Prussian War. He told me how he escaped, too, and got toAmerica, and about how he hit the German soldier that came to arrest youfor singing the _Marseillaise_. "

The girl's face colored with anger, and yet with pride. 

"Mostly what we came here for, " Tom added in his expressionless way, "was to get some food and get rested before we start again. We're goingthrough Switzerland to join the Americans--and if you'll wait a littlewhile you can sing the _Marseillaise_ all you want. "

Something in his look and manner as he sat there, uncouth and forlorn, sent a thrill through her. 

"Zey are all like you?" she repeated. "Ze Americans?"

"Your brother and I got to be pretty good friends, " said Tom simply; "hetalked just like you. When we got to a French port--I ain't allowed totell you the name of it--but when we got there he went away on the trainwith all the other soldiers, and he waved his hand to me and said he wasgoing to win Alsace back. I liked him and I liked the way he talked. Hegot excited, like----"

"Ah, yess--my bruzzer!"

"So now he's with General Pershing. It seemed funny not to see him afterthat. I thought about him a lot. When he talked it made me feel morepatriotic and proud, like. "

"Yess, yess, " she urged, the tears standing in her eyes. 

"Sometimes you sort of get to like a feller and you don't know why. Hewould always get so excited, sort of, when he talked about France orUncle Sam that he'd throw his cigarette away. He wasted a lot of 'em. He said everybody's got two countries, his own and France. "

"Ah, yess, " she exclaimed. 

"Even if I didn't care anything about the war, " Tom went on in his dullway, "I'd want to see France get Alsace back just on account of him. "

Florette sat gazing at him, her eyes brimming. 

"And you come to Zhermany, how?"

"After we started back the ship I worked on got torpedoed and I waspicked up by a submarine. I never saw the inside of one before. Sothat's how I got to Germany. They took me there and put me in the prisoncamp at Slopsgotten--that ain't the way to say it, but----"

"You've got to sneeze it, " interrupted Archer. 

"Yes, I know, " she urged eagerly, "and zen----"

"And then when I found out that it was just across the border fromAlsace I happened to think about having that button, and I thought if Icould escape maybe the French people would help me if I showed it to 'emlike Frenchy said. "

"Oh, yess, _zey will_! But we must be careful, " said Florette. 

"It was funny how I met Archer there, " said Tom. "We used to know eachother in New York. He had even more adventures than I did gettingthere. "

"And you escaped?"

"Yop. "

"We put one over on 'em, " said Archer. "It was his idea (indicatingTom). They let us have some chemical stuff to fix the pump engine withand we melted the barbed wire with it and made a place to crawl outthrough. I got a piece of the barbed wirre for a sooveneerr. Maybe you'dlike to have it, " Archer added, fumbling in his pockets. 

Florette, smiling and crying all at once, still sat looking wonderinglyfrom one to the other of this adventurous, ragged pair. 

"Those Germans ain't so smart, " said Archer. 

The girl only shook her head and explained to her parents. Then sheturned to Tom. 

"My father wants to know if zey are all like you in America. Yess?"

"_He_ used to be a Boy Scout, " said Archer. "Did you everr hearr ofthem?"

But Florette only shook her head again and stared. Ever since the warbegan she had lived under the shadow of the big prison camp. Many of herfriends and townspeople, Alsatians loyal still to France, were heldthere among the growing horde of foreigners. Never had she heard of anyone escaping. If two American boys could melt the wires and walk out, what would happen next?

And one of them had blithely announced that these mighty invinciblePrussians "couldn't even trail a mud turtle. " She wondered what theymeant by "looping our trail. "

CHAPTER IV

THE OLD WINE VAT

"We thought maybe you'd let us stay here tonight and tomorrow, " said Tomafter the scanty meal which the depleted larder yielded, "and tomorrownight we'll start out south; 'cause we don't want to be traveling in thedaytime. Maybe you could give us some clothes so it'll change our looks. It's less than a hundred miles to Basel----"

"My pappa say you could nevaire cross ze frontier. Zere arewires--electric----"

"Electric wirres are ourr middle name, " said Archer. "We eat 'em. "

"We ain't scared of anything except the daylight, " said Tom. "Archy cantalk some German and I got Frenchy's--Armand's--button to show to Frenchpeople. When we once get into Switzerland we'll be all right. "

He waited while the girl engaged in an animated talk with her parents. Then old Pierre patted the two boys affectionately on the shoulderwhile Florette explained. 

"It iss not for our sake only, it iss for yours. You cannot stay in zisshouse. It iss not safe. You aire wonderful, zee how you escape, and tobring us news of our Armand! We must help you. But if zey get you zen wedo not help you. Iss it so? Here every day ze Prussians come. You see?Zey do not follow you--you are what you say--too clevaire? But still zeycome. "

Tom listened, his heart in his throat at the thought of being turned outof this home where he had hoped for shelter. 

"We are already suspect, " Florette explained. "My pappa, he fought forFrance--long ago. But so zey hate him. My name zey get--how old----Allzeze zings zey write down--everyzing. Zey come for me soon. I sang ze_Marseillaise_--you know?"

"Yes, " said Tom, "but that was years ago. "

"But we are suspect. Zey have write it all down. Nossing zey forget. Zeytake me to work--out of Alsace. Maybe to ze great Krupps. I haf' to workin ze fields in Prussia maybe. You see? Ven zey come I must go. Tonight, maybe. Tomorrow. Maybe not yet----"

She struggled to master her emotion and continued. "Ziss is--what youcall--blackleest house. You see? So you will hide where I take you. Itiss bad, but we cannot help. I give you food and tomorrow in ze night Ibring you clothes. Zese I must look for--Armand's. You see? Come. "

They rose with her and as she stood there almost overcome with grief andshame and the strain of long suspense and apprehension, yet thinkingonly of their safety, the sadness of her position and her impending fatewent to Tom's heart. 

Old Pierre embraced the boys affectionately with his one arm, seeming toconfirm all his daughter had said. 

"My pappa say it is best you stay not here in ziss house. I will showyou where Armand used to hide so long ago when we play, " she smiledthrough her tears. "If zey come and find you----"

"I understand, " said Tom. "They couldn't blame it to you. "

"You see? Yess. "

To Archer, who understood a few odds and ends of German old Pierremanaged to explain in that language his sorrow and humiliation at theirpoor welcome. 

All five then went into an old-fashioned kitchen with walls of nakedmasonry and a great chimney, and from a cupboard Florette and her motherfilled a basket with such cold viands as were on hand. This, and a pailof water the boys carried, and after another affectionate farewell fromPierre and his wife, they followed the girl cautiously and silently outinto the darkness. 

Tom Slade had already felt the fangs of the German beast and he did notneed any one to tell him that the loathsome thing was without conscienceor honor, but as he watched the slender form of Armand's young sisterhurrying on ahead of them and thought of all she had borne and must yetbear and of the black fear that must be always in her young heart, hissympathy for her and for this stricken home was very great. 

He had not fully comprehended her meaning, but he understood that sheand her parents were haunted by an ever-present dread, and that even intheir apprehension it hurt them to skimp their hospitality or suffer anyshadow to be cast on a stranger's welcome. 

Florette led the way along a narrow board path running back from thehouse, through an endless maze of vine-covered arbor, which completelyroofed all the grounds adjacent to the house. Tom, accustomed only tothe small American grape arbor, was amazed at the extent of thisvineyard. 

"Reminds you of an elevated railroad, don't it, " said Archer. 

On the rickety uprights (for the arbor like everything else on the oldplace was going to ruin under the alien blight) large baskets hung hereand there. At intervals the structure sagged so that they had to stoopto pass under it, and here and there it was broken or uncovered and theycaught glimpses of the sky. 

They went over a little hillock and, still beneath the arbor, came upona place where the vines had fallen away from the ramshackle trellis andformed a spreading mass upon the ground. 

"You see?" whispered the girl in her pretty way. "Here Armand he climb. Here he hide to drop ze grapes down my neck--so. Bad boy! So zen itbreak--crash! He tumbled down. Ah--my pappa so angry. We must nevaireclimb on ze trellis. You see? Here I sit and laugh--so much--when hetumble down!"

She smiled and for a moment seemed all happiness, but Tom Slade heard asigh following close upon the smile. He did not know what to say so hesimply said in his blunt way:

"I guess you had good times together. "

"Now I will zhow you, " she said, stooping to pull away the heavy tangleof vine. 

Tom and Archer helped her and to their surprise there was revealed atrap-door about six feet in diameter with gigantic rusty hinges. 

"Ziss is ze cave--you see?" she said, stooping to lift the door. Tombent but she held him back. "Wait, I will tell you. Zen you can openit. " For a moment pleasant recollections seemed to have the upper hand, and there was about her a touch of that buoyancy which had made herbrother so attractive to sober Tom. 

"Wait--zhest till I tell you. When I come back from ze school in EnglandI have read ze story about 'Kidnap. ' You know?"

"It's by Stevenson; I read it, " said Archer. 

"You know ze cave vere ze Scotch man live? So ziss is our cave. Now youlift. "

The door did not stir at first and Florette, laughing softly, raised thebig L band which bent over the top and lay in a rusted padlock eye. 

"Now. "

The boys raised the heavy door, to which many strands of the vine clung, and Florette placed a stick to hold it up at an angle. Peering withinby the light of a match, they saw the interior of what appeared to be amammoth hogshead from which emanated a stale, but pungent odor. It was, perhaps, seven feet in depth and the same in diameter and the bottom wascovered with straw. 

"It is ze vat--ze wine vat, " whispered Florette, amused at theirsurprise. "Here we keep ze wine zat will cost so much. --But no more. --Wemake no wine ziss year, " she sighed. "Ziss makes ze fine flavor--zeearth all around. You see?"

"It's a dandy place to hide, " said Archer. 

"So here you will stay and you will be safe. Tomorrow in ze night Ishall bring you more food and some clothes. I am so sorry----"

"There ain't anything to be sorry about, " said Tom. "There's lots ofroom in there--more than there is in a bivouac tent. And it'll becomfortable on that straw, that's one sure thing. If you knew the kindof place we slept in up there in the prison you'd say this was allright. We'll stay here and rest all day tomorrow and after you bring usthe things at night we'll sneak out and hike it along. "

"I will not dare to come in ze daytime, " said Florette, "but after it isdark, zen I will come. You must have ze cover almost shut and I willpull ze vines over it. "

"We'll tend to that, " said Tom. 

"We'll camouflage it, all right, " Archer added. 

For a moment she lingered as if thinking if there were anything more shemight do for their comfort. Then against her protest, Tom accompaniedher part way back and they paused for a moment under the thickly coveredtrellis, for she would not let him approach the house. 

"I'm sorry we made you so much trouble, " he said; "it's only because wewant to get to where we can fight for you. "

"Oh, yess, I know, " she answered sadly. "My pappa, it break his heartbecause he cannot make you ze true welcome. But you do not know. Weare--how you say--persecute--all ze time. Zey own Alsace, but zey do notlove Alsace. It is like--it is like ze stepfather--you see?" she added, her voice breaking. "So zey have always treat us. "

For a few seconds Tom stood, awkward and uncomfortable; then clumsily hereached out his hand and took hers. 

"You don't mean they'll take you like they took the people from Belgium, do you?" he asked. 

"Ziss is worse zan Belgium, " Florette sobbed. "Zere ze people can escapeto England. "

"Where would they send you?" Tom asked. 

"Maybe far north into Prussia. Maybe still in Alsace. All ze famileeszey will separate so zey shall meex wiz ze Zhermans. " Florette suddenlygrasped his hand. "I am glad I see you. So now I can see all zeAmericans come--hoondreds----

"Tomorrow in ze night I will bring you ze clothes, " she whispered, "andmore food, and zen you will be rested----"

"I feel sorry for you, " Tom blurted out with simple honesty, "and I gotto thank you. Both of us have--that's one sure thing. You're worse offthan we are--and it makes me feel mean, like. But maybe it won't be sobad. And, gee, I'll look forward to seeing you tomorrow night, too. "

"I will bring ze sings, _surely_, " she said earnestly. 

"It isn't--it isn't only for that, " he mumbled, "it's because I'll kindof look forward to seeing you anyway. "

For another moment she lingered and in the stillness of night and thethickly roofed arbor he could hear her breath coming short and quick, asshe tried to stifle her emotion. 

"Is--is it a sound?" she whispered in sudden terror. 

"No, it's only because you're scared, " said Tom. 

He stood looking after her as she hurried away under the ramshackletrellis until her slender figure was lost in the darkness. 

"It'll make me fight harder, anyway, " he said to himself; "it'll help meto get to France 'cause--'cause I _got_ to, and if you _got_ to do athing--you can. . . . "

CHAPTER V

THE VOICE FROM THE DISTANCE

"My idea, " said Archer, when Tom returned, "is to break that stick aboutin half and prop the doorr just wide enough open so's we can crawl in. Then we can spread the vines all overr the top just like it was beforreand overr the opening, too. What d'ye say?"

"That's all right, " said Tom, "and we can leave it a little opentonight. In the morning we'll drop it and be on the safe side. "

"Maybe we'd betterr drop it tonight and be on the safe side, " saidArcher. "S'pose we should fall asleep. "

"We'll take turns sleeping, " said Tom decisively. "We can't afford totake any chances. "

"You can bet I'm going to get a sooveneerr of this place, anyway, " saidArcher, tugging at a rusty nail. 

"Never you mind about souvenirs, " Tom said; "let's get this doorcamouflaged. "

"I could swap that nail for a jack-knife back home, " said Archerregretfully. "A nail right fresh from Alsace!"

But he gave it up and together they pulled the tangled vine this way andthat, until the door and the opening beneath were well covered. Thenthey crawled in and while Archer reached up and held the door, Tom brokethe stick so that the opening was reduced to the inch or two necessaryfor ventilation. Reaching out, they pulled the vine over this crackuntil they felt certain that no vestige of door or opening could be seenfrom without, and this done they sat down upon the straw, their backsagainst the walls of the vat, enjoying the first real comfort andfreedom from anxiety which they had known since their escape from theprison camp. 

"I guess we're safe herre forr tonight, anyway, " said Archer, "butbelieve _me_, I think we've got some job on our hands getting out ofthis country. It's going to be no churrch sociable----"

"We got this far, " said Tom, "and by tomorrow night we ought to have agood plan doped out. We got nothing to do all day tomorrow but thinkabout it. "

"Gee, I feel sorry for these people, " said Archer; "they'rre surre upagainst it. Makes me feel as if I'd like to have one good whack atKaiser Bill----"

"Well, don't talk so loud and we'll get a whack at him, all right. "

"I'd like to get his old double-jointed moustache for a sooveneerr. "

"There you go again, " said Tom. 

Now that the excitement was over, they realized how tired they were andindeed the strain upon their nerves, added to their bodily fatigue, hadbrought them almost to the point of exhaustion. 

"I'm all in, " said Archer wearily. 

"All right, go to sleep, " said Tom, "and after a while if you don't wakeup I'll wake you. One of us has got to stay awake and listen. We can'tafford to take any chances. "

Archibald Archer needed no urging and in a minute he was sprawled uponthe straw, dead to the world. The daylight was glinting cheerily throughthe interstices of tangled vine over the opening when he awoke with theheedless yawns which he might have given in his own beloved Catskills. 

"Don't make a noise, " said Tom quickly, by way of caution. "We're in thewine vat in Leteur's vineyard in Alsace, remember. " It took Archer amoment to realize where they were. They ate an early breakfast, findingthe simple odds and ends grateful enough, and then Tom took his turn ata nap. 

Throughout most of that day they sat with their knees drawn up, leaningagainst the inside of the great vat, talking in hushed tones of theirplans. There was nothing else they could do in the half darkness and theslow hours dragged themselves away monotonously. They had lowered thedoor, but still left it open upon the merest crack and out of this oneor the other would peek at intervals, listening, heart in throat, forthe dreaded sound of footfalls. But no one came. 

"I thought I hearrd a kind of rustling once, " Archer said fearfully. 

"There's a couple of cows 'way over in a field, " said Tom; "they mighthave made some sound. "

After what seemed to them an age, the leaves over the opening seemedbathed in a strange new light and glistened here and there. 

"That crack faces the west, " said Tom. "The sun's beginning to go down. "

"How do you know?" asked Archer. 

"I always knew that up at Temple Camp. I don't know _how_ I know. Themorning sun is different from the afternoon sun, that's all. I thinkit'll set now in about two hours. "

"I wonder when she'll come, " Archer said. 

"Not till it's good and dark, that's sure. She's got to be careful. Maybe this place can be seen from the road, for all we know. Remember, we didn't see it in the daylight. "

"Sh-h-h, " said Archer. "Listen. "

From far, far away there was borne upon the still air a dull, spent, booming sound at intervals. 

"It's the fighting, " whispered Tom. 

"Wherre do you suppose it is?" Archer asked, sobered by this audiblereminder of their nearness to the seat of war. 

"I don't know, " Tom said. "I'm kind of mixed up. That feller in theprison had a map. Let's see. I think Nancy's the nearest place to here. Toul is near that. That's where our fellers are--around there. Listen!"

Again the rumbling, faint but distinctly audible, almost as if it camefrom another world. 

"The trenches run right through there--near Nancy, " said Tom. 

"Maybe it's _ourr_ boys, hey?" Archer asked excitedly. 

Tom did not answer immediately. He was thrilled at this thought of hisown country speaking so that he, poor fugitive that he was, could hearit in this dark, lonesome dungeon in a hostile land, across all thosemiles. 

"Maybe, " he said, his voice catching the least bit. "They're in the Toulsector. A feller in prison told me. You don't feel so lonesome, kind of, when you hear that----"

"Gee, I hope we can get to them, " said Archer. 

"What you _got_ to do, you can do, " Tom answered. "I wonder----"

"Sh-h. D'you hearr that?" Archer whispered, clutching Tom's shoulder. "It was much nearerr--right close----"

They held their breaths as the reverberation of a sharp report diedaway. 

"What was it?" Archer asked tensely. 

"I don't know, " Tom whispered, instinctively removing the short stickand closing the trap door tight. "Don't move--hush!"

CHAPTER VI

PRISONERS AGAIN

"Do you hear footsteps?" Archer breathed. 

Tom listened, keen and alert. "No, " he said at last. "There's no onecoming. "

"What do you s'pose it was?"

"I don't know. Sit down and don't get excited. "

But Tom was trembling himself, and it was not until five or ten minuteshad passed without sound or happening that he was able to get a grip onhimself. 

"Push up the door a little and listen, " suggested Archer. 

Tom cautiously pressed upward, but the door did not budge. "It's stuck, "he whispered. 

Archer rose and together they pressed, but save for a little loosenessthe door did not move. 

"It's caught outside, I guess, " said Tom. "Maybe the iron hasp fell intothe padlock when I put it down, huh?"

That, indeed, seemed to be the case, for upon pressure the door gave alittle at the corners, but not midway along the side where the fasteningwas. Archer turned cold at the thought of their predicament, and for amoment even Tom's rather dull imagination pictured the ghastly fate madepossible by imprisonment in this black hole. 

"There's no use getting excited, " he said. "We get some air through thecracks and after dark she'll be here, like she said. It's beginning toget dark now, I guess. "

But he could not sit quietly and wait through the awful suspense, and hepressed up against the boards at intervals all the way along the foursides of the door. On the side where the hinges were it yielded not atall. On the opposite side it held fast in the center, showing that by aperverse freak of chance it had locked itself. Elsewhere it strained alittle on pressure, but not enough to afford any hope of breaking it. 

"If it was only lowerr, " Archer said, "so we could brace our shoulderrsagainst it, we might forrce it. "

"And make a lot of noise, " said Tom. "There's no use getting rattled;we'll just have to wait till she comes. "

"Yes, but it gives you the willies thinkin' about what would happen----"

"Well, don't let's think of it, then, " Tom interrupted. "We shouldworry. " And suiting his action to the word, he seated himself, drew uphis knees, and clasped his hands over them. "We'll just have to wait, that's all. "

"What do you suppose that sound was?" Archer asked. 

"I don't know; some kind of a gun. It ain't the first gun that's beenshot off in Europe lately. "

For half an hour or so they sat, trying to make talk, and each pretendedto himself and to the other that he was not worrying. But Tom, who had ascout's ear, started and his heart beat faster at every trifling stiroutside. Then, as they realized that darkness must have fallen, theybecame more alert for sounds and a little apprehensive. They knewFlorette would come quietly, but Tom believed he could detect herapproach. 

After a while, they abandoned all their pretence of nonchalantconfidence and did not talk at all. Of course, they knew Florette wouldcome in her own good time, but the stifling atmosphere of that mustyhole and the thought of what _might_ happen----

Suddenly there was a slight noise outside and then, to their greatrelief, the unmistakable sound of footfalls on the planks above them, softened by the thick carpet of matted vine. 

"Sh-h, don't speak!" Tom whispered, his heart beating rapidly. "Waittill she unfastens it or says something. "

For a few seconds--a minute--they waited in breathless suspense. Thencame a slight rustle as from some disturbance of the vine, thenfootfalls, again, modulated and stealthy they seemed, on the door justabove them. A speck of dirt, or an infinitesimal pebble, maybe, fellupon Archer's head from the slight jarring of some crack in the roughdoor. Then silence. 

Breathlessly they waited, Archer nervously clutching Tom's arm. 

"Don't speak, " Tom warned in the faintest whisper. 

Still they waited. But no other sound broke upon the deathlike solitudeand darkness. . . . 

CHAPTER VII

WHERE THERE'S A WILL----

"They're hunting for us, " whispered Tom hoarsely. "It's good it wasshut. "

"I'd ratherr have them catch us, " shivered Archer, "than die in herre. "

"We haven't died yet, " said Tom, "and they haven't caught us either. Don't lose your nerves. She'll come as soon as she can. "

For a few minutes they did not speak nor stir, only listened eagerly forany further sound. 

"What do you s'pose that shot was?" Archer whispered, after a fewminutes more of keen suspense. 

"I don't know. A signal, maybe. They're searching this place for us, Iguess. Don't talk. "

Archer took comfort from Tom's calmness, and for half an hour more theywaited, silent and apprehensive. But nothing more happened, the solemnstillness of the countryside reigned without, and as the time passedtheir fear of pursuit and capture gave way to cold terror at the thoughtof being locked in this black, stifling vault to die. 

What had happened? What did that shot mean, and where was it? Why didFlorette not come? Who had walked across the plank roof of that mustyprison? The fact that they could only guess at the time increased theirdread and made their dreadful predicament the harder to bear. Moreover, the air was stale and insufficient and their heads began to achecruelly. 

"We can't stand it in here much longer, " Tom confessed, after whatseemed a long period of waiting. "Pretty soon one of us will be all inand then it'll be harder for the other. We've got to get out, no matterwhat. "

"Therre may be a Gerrman soldierr within ten feet of us now, " Archersaid. "They'rre probably around in this vineyarrd _somewherre_, anyway. If we tried to forrce it open they'd hearr us. "

"We couldn't force it, anyway, " Tom said. 

"My head's pounding like a hammerr, " said Archer after a few minutesmore of silence. 

"Hold some of that damp straw to it. --How many matches did she giveyou?"

"'Bout a dozen or so. "

"Wish I had a knife. --Have you got that piece of wire yet?"

"Surre I have, " said Archer, hauling from his pocket about five inchesof barbed wire--the treasured memento of his escape from the Hun prisoncamp. "You laughed at me for always gettin' sooveneerrs; now you see----What you want it for?"

"Sh-h. How many barbs has it?" asked Tom in a cautious whisper. 

"Three. "

"Let's have it; give me a couple o' matches, too. "

Holding a lighted match under the place where he thought the ironpadlock band must be, he scrutinized the under side of the door for anysign of it. 

"I thought maybe the ends of the screws would show through, " he said. 

"What's the idea?" Archer asked. "Gee, but my head's poundin'. "

"If that hasp just fell over the padlock eye, " Tom whispered, "anddidn't fit in like it ought to, maybe if I could bore a hole right underit I could push it up. Don't get scared, " he added impassively. "There'sanother way, too; but it's a lot of work and it would make a noise. We'djust have to settle down and take turns and dig through with the wirebarbs. I wish we had more matches. Don't get rattled, now. I know we'rein a dickens of a hole----"

"You said something, " observed Archer. 

"I didn't mean it for a joke, " said Tom soberly. 

"This has got the trenches beat a mile, " Archer said, somewhatencouraged by Tom's calmness and resourcefulness. 

Striking another match, Tom examined more carefully the area of plankingjust in the middle of the side where he knew the hasp must be. Hedetermined the exact center as nearly as he could. While doing this hedug his fingernails under a large splinter in the old planking andpulled it loose. Archer could not see what he was doing, and somethingdeterred him from bothering his companion with questions. 

For a while Tom breathed heavily on the splintered fragment. Then hetore one end of it until it was in shreds. 

"Let's have another match. "

Igniting the shredded end, he blew it deftly until the solid wood wasaflame, and by the light of it he could see that Archer was ghastly paleand almost on the point of collapse. Their dank, unwholesome refugeseemed the more dreadful for the light. 

"You got to just think about our getting out, " Tom said, in his usualdull manner. "We won't suffocate near so soon if we don't think aboutit, and don't get rattled. We _got_ to get out and so we _will_ get out. Let's have that wire. "

All Archer's buoyancy was gone, but he tried to take heart from hiscomrade's stolid, frowning face and quiet demeanor. 

"We can set fire to the whole business if we have to, " said Tom, "sodon't get rattled. We ain't going to die. Here, hold this. "

Archer held the stick, blowing upon it, while Tom heated an end of thewire, holding the other end in some of the damp straw. As soon as itbecame red hot he poked it into the place he had selected above him. Ittook a long time and many heatings to burn a hole an eighth of an inchdeep in the thick planking, and their task was not made the pleasanterby the thought that after all it was like taking a shot in the dark. Itseemed like an hour, the piece of splintered wood was burned almostaway, and what little temper there was in the malleable wire was quitegone from it, when Tom triumphantly pushed it through the hole. 

"Strike anything?" Archer asked, in suspense. 

"No, " said Tom, disappointed. He bent the wire and, as best he could, poked it around outside. "I think I can feel it, though. Missed it byabout an inch. There's no use getting discouraged. We'll just have tobore another one. "

Long afterward, Archibald Archer often recalled the patience anddoggedness which Tom displayed that night. 

"As long's the first hole has helped us to find something out, it'sworth while, anyway, " he said philosophically. 

Resolutely he went to work again, like the traditional spider climbingthe wall, heating the almost limp wire and by little burnings of asixteenth of an inch or so at a time he succeeded in making another holethrough the heavy planking. But this time the wire encountered ametallic obstruction. Sure enough, Tom could feel the troublesome hasp, but alas, the wire was now too limber to push it up. 

"I can just joggle it a little, " he said, "but it's too heavy for thiswire. "

However, by dint of doubling and twisting the wire, he succeeded aftermany attempts and innumerable straightenings of the wire, in jogglingthe stubborn hasp free from the padlock eye on which it had barelycaught. 

"There it goes!" he said with a note of triumph in his usually impassivevoice. 

Instantly Archer's hands were against the door ready to push it up. 

"Wait a minute, " whispered Tom; "don't fly off the handle. How do weknow who's wandering round? Sh-h! Think I want to run plunk into thePrussian soldier that walked over our heads? Take your time. "

In his excitement Archer had forgotten that ominous tread above theirprison, and he drew back while Tom raised the door to the merest crackand peered cautiously out. The fresh air afforded them infinite relief. 

The night was still and clear, the sky thick with stars. Far away arange of black heights was outlined against the sky, and over there themoon was rising. It seemed to be stealthily creeping up out of thatbattle-scourged plain in France for a glimpse of Alsace. It was frombeyond those mountains that had come the portentous rumblings which theyhad heard. 

"The blue Alsatian mountains, " murmured Tom. "I wish we were acrossthem. "

"We'll have to go down and around if we everr get therre, " Archer said. 

"Sh-h-h!" warned Tom, putting his head out and peering about whileArcher held the lid up. 

The moonlight, glinting down through the interstices of the trellisedvine, made animated shadows in the quiet vineyard, conjuring the woodensupports and knotty masses of vine stalk into lurking human forms. Heresome grim figure waited in silence behind an upright, only to dissolvewith the changing light. There an ominous helmet seemed to stir amid thethick growth. 

The two fugitives, elated at their deliverance, but tremblinglyapprehensive, stood hesitating at so radical a move as completeemergence from their hiding place. 

"We can't crawl out of herre in daylight, that's surre, " whisperedArcher. "D'you think maybe she'll come even now--if we waited?"

"It must be long after midnight, " Tom answered. "You wait here and holdthe door up while I crawl out. Don't move and don't speak. What's thatshining over there? See?"

"Nothin' but an old waterring can. "

"All right--sh-h-h!"

Cautiously, silently, Tom crept out, peering anxiously in everydirection. Stealthily he raised himself. Then suddenly he made a lowsound and with a rapidity which startled Archer, dropped to his handsand knees. 

"What's the matterr?" Archer whispered. "Come inside--quick!"

But Tom was engrossed with something on the ground. 

"What is it?" Archer whispered anxiously. "His footprints?"

"Yop, " said Tom, less cautiously. "Come on out. He's standing over therein the field now. Come on out, don't be scared. "

Archer did not know what to make of it, but he crept out and looked overto the adjacent field where Tom pointed. A kindly, patient cow, one ofthose they had seen before, was grazing quietly, partaking of a latelunch in the moonlight. 

"Here's her footprint, " said Tom simply. "She gave us a good scare, anyway. "

"Well--I'll--be----" Archer began. 

"Sh-h!" warned Tom. "We don't know yet why Frenchy's sister don't come. But there weren't any soldiers here--that's one sure thing. We had a lotof worry for nothin'. Come on. "

CHAPTER VIII

THE HOME FIRE NO LONGER BURNS

"That's the first time I was everr scarred by a cow, " said Archer, hisbuoyant spirit fully revived, "but when I hearrd those footsteps overrmy head, _go-od night_! It's good you happened to think about lookingfor footprints, hey?"

"I didn't _happen_ to, " said Tom. "I always do. Same as you never forgetto get a souvenir, " he added soberly. 

"I'd like to get a sooveneerr from that cow, hey? _You_ needn't talk; ifit hadn't been for that wire, where'd we be now? Sooveneerrs arre allright. But I admit you've got to have ideas to go with 'em. "

"Thanks, " said Tom. 

"Keep the change, " said Archer jubilantly. "Believe me, I don't carrewhat becomes of me as long as I'm above ground--on terra cotta----"

"We've got to get away from here before daylight, so come on, "interrupted Tom. 

"Are we going up to the house?"

"What else can we do?"

The explanation of those appalling footfalls by no means explained thefailure of Florette to keep her promise, and the fugitives started alongthe path which led to the house. 

They walked very cautiously, Tom scrutinizing the earth-covered plankingfor any sign of recent passing. The door of the stone kitchen stoodopen, which surprised them, and they stole quietly inside. A lamp stoodupon the table, but there was no sign of human presence. 

Tom led the way on tiptoe through the passage where they had passedbefore, and into the main room where another lamp revealed a ghastlysight. The heavy shutters were closed and barred, just as Florette hadclosed them when she had brought the boys into the room. Upon the floorlay old Pierre, quite dead, with a cruel wound, as from some bluntinstrument, upon his forehead. His whitish gray hair, which had made himlook so noble and benignant, was stained with his own blood. Blood layin a pool about his fine old head, and the old coat which he wore hadbeen torn from him, showing the stump of the arm which he had so longago given to his beloved France. 

Near him lay sprawled upon the floor a soldier in a gray uniform, alsodead. A little bullet wound in his temple told the tale. Beside him wasa black helmet with heavy brass chin gear. Archer picked it up withtrembling hands. Across its front was a motto:

 "_Mitt Gott--und Vaterland_. "

The middle of it was obscured by the flaring German coat-of-arms. Apistol lay midway between the two bodies and part of an old engravedmotto was still visible on that. Tom could make out the name Napoleon. 

"What d'you s'pose happened?" whispered Archer, aghast. 

Tom shook his head. "Come on, " said he. "Let's look for the others. "

Taking the lamp, he led the way silently through the other rooms. On acouch in one of these was laid a soldier's uniform and a loose paperupon the floor showed that it had but lately been unwrapped. There wasno sign of Florette or her mother, and Tom felt somewhat relieved atthis, for he had feared to find them dead also. 

"What d'you think it means?" Archer asked again, as they returned to theroom of death. 

"I suppose they came for her just like she said, " Tom answered in a lowtone. "Her father must have shot the soldier, and probably whoeverkilled the old man took her and her mother away. "

He looked down at the white, staring face of old Pierre and thought ofhow the old soldier had risen from his seat and had stood waiting withhis fine military air at the moment of his own arrival at the shadowedand stricken home. He remembered how the old man had waited eagerly forhis daughter to translate his and Archer's talk and of his humiliationat the shabby hospitality he must offer them. He took the helmet, agrim-looking thing, from the table where Archer had laid it, and readagain, "Mitt Gott----"

It seemed to Tom that this was all wrong--that God must surely be on theside of old Pierre, no matter what had happened. 

"Do you know what I think?" he said simply. "I think it was just the wayI said--and like she said. They came to get her and maybe they didn'ttreat her just right, and her father hit one of them. Or maybe he shothim first off. Anyway, I think that soldier suit must be the one Frenchyhad to wear, 'cause he told me that the boys in Alsace had to drill evenbefore they got out of school. I guess she was going to bring it to usso one of us could wear it. . . . We got to feel sorry for her, that's onesure thing. "

It was Tom's simple, blunt way of expressing the sympathy which surgedup in his heart. 

"I liked her; she treated us fine, " said Archer. 

For a few seconds Tom did not answer; then he said in his old stolidway, "I don't know where they took her or what they'll make her do, butanybody could see she didn't have any muscle. Whenever I think of herI'll fight harder, that's one sure thing. "

For a few moments he could hardly command himself as he contemplatedthis tragic end of the broken home. Florette, whom he had seen butyesterday, had been taken away--away from her home, probably from herbeloved Alsace, to enforced labor for the Teuton tyrant. He recalled herslender form as she hurried through the darkness ahead of them, hergentle apology for their poor reception, her wistful memories of herbrother as she showed them their hiding-place, her touching grief andapprehension as she stood talking with him under the trellis. . . . 

And now she was gone and awful thoughts of her peril and sufferingwelled up in Tom's mind. 

He looked at the stark figure and white, staring face of old Pierre andthought of the impetuous embrace the old man had given him. He thoughtof his friend, Frenchy. And the mother--where was she? Good people, kindpeople; trying in the menacing shadow of the detestable Teuton beast tokeep their flickering home fire burning. And this was the end of it. 

Most of all, he thought of Florette and her wistful, fearful lookhaunted him. "_Maybe for ze great Krupps_"--the phrase lingered in hismind and he stood there appalled at the realization of this awful, unexplained thing which had happened. 

Then Tom Slade did something which his scout training had taught him todo, while Archer, tremulous and unstrung, stood awkwardly by, watching. He knelt down over the lifeless form of the old man and straightened theprostrate figure so that it lay becomingly and decently upon the hardfloor. He bent the one arm and laid it across the breast in the usualposture of dignity and peace. He took the threadbare covering from theold melodeon and placed it over the face. So that the last service forold Pierre Leteur was performed by an American boy; and at least theashes of the home fire were left in order by a scout from far across theseas. 

"It's part of first aid, " explained Tom quietly, as he rose; "I learnedhow at Temple Camp. "

Archer said nothing. 

"When a scout from Maryland died up there, I saw how they did it. "

"You got to thank the scouts for a lot, " said Archer; "forr trackin' an'trailin'----"

"'Tain't on account of them, " said Tom, his voice breaking a little, "it's on account of her----"

And he kneeled again to arrange the corner of the cloth more neatly overthe wrinkled, wounded face. . . . 

CHAPTER IX

FLIGHT

"Anyway, we've got to get away from here quick, " said Tom, pullinghimself together; "never mind about clothes or anything. One thing sure, they'll be back here soon. See if he has a watch, " he added, indicatingthe dead soldier. 

"No, but he's got a little compass around his neck; shall I take it?"

"Sure, we got a right to capture anything from the enemy. "

"He's got some papers, too. "

"All right, take 'em. Come on out through the kitchen way--hurry up. Don't make any noise. You look for some food--I'll be with you rightaway. "

Tom crept cautiously out to the road and, kneeling, placed his ear tothe ground. There was no sound, and he hurried back to the stone kitchenwhere Archer was stuffing his pockets with such dry edibles as he couldgather. 

"All right, come on, " he whispered hurriedly. "What have you got?"

"Some hard bread and a couple of salt fish----"

"Give me one of those, " Tom interrupted: "and hand me that tablecloth. Come on. Got some matches?"

"Yes, and a candle, too. "

"Good. Don't strike a light. You go ahead, along the plank walk. "

Leaving the scene of the tragedy, they hurried along the board walkunder the trellis, Tom dragging the tablecloth so that it swept both ofthe narrow planks and obliterated any suggestion of footprints. Whenthey had gone about fifty yards he stooped and flung the salt fish fromhim so that it barely skimmed the earth and rested at some distance fromthe path. 

"If they should have any dogs with 'em, that'll take 'em off the trail, "he said. 

"I'm sorry I didn't get you a souveneerr too, " said Archer, as theyhurried along. 

This was the first intimation Tom had that Archer regarded the littlecompass merely as a souvenir. 

"You can give me those papers you took, " he said, half in joke. 

"It's only an envelope, " Archer said. "Have you got your button allright?"

"Sure. "

When they reached the wine vat, Tom threw the old tablecloth into it, and pulled the vine more carefully so as to conceal the door. They weretempted to rest here, but realized that if they spent the balance of thenight in their former refuge it would mean another long day in the dankhole. 

The vineyard ended a few yards from the wine vat and beyond was an areaof open lowlands across which the boys could see a range of low woodedhills. 

"We've got about four hours till daylight, " said Tom; "let's make forthose woods. "

"That's east, " said Archer. "_We_ want to go south. "

"We want to see where we're going before we go anywhere, " Tom answered. "If we can get into the woods on those hills, we can climb a treetomorrow and see where we're at. What I want is a bird's-eye squint tostart off with, 'cause we can't ask questions of anybody. "

"No, and believe me, we don't want to run into any cities, " said Archer. "We got through one night anyway, hey?"

Notwithstanding that they were without shelter, and facing theinnumerable perils of a hostile country about which they knew nothing, they still found action preferable to inaction and their spirits rose asthey journeyed on with the star-studded sky overhead. 

They found the meadows low and marshy, which gratified Tom who wasalways fearful of leaving footprints. The hills beyond were low andthickly wooded, the face of the nearest being broken by slides andforming almost a precipice surmounted by a jumble of rocks andunderbrush. The country seemed wild and isolated enough. 

"I suppose it's the beginning of the Alps, maybe, " Tom panted as theyscrambled up. 

"There's nobody up here, that's surre, " Archer answered. 

"We'll just lie low till daylight and see if we can get a squint at thecountry. Then tomorrow night we'll hike it south. If we go straightsouth we've _got_ to come to Switzerland. "

"It's lucky we've got the compass, " said Archer. 

"Maybe this is a ridge we're on, " Tom said. "If it is, we're in luck. Wemay be able to go thirty or forty miles along it. One thing sure, it'llbe more hilly the farther south we get 'cause we'll be getting into thebeginning of the Alps. There ought to be water up here. "

"I wish there were some apples, " said Archer. 

"You're always thinking about apples and souvenirs. Let's crawl in underhere. "

They had scrambled to the top of the precipitous ascent and foundthemselves upon the broken edge of the forest amid a black chaos ofpiled up rock and underbrush. Evidently, the land here was giving way, little by little, for here and there they could see a tree cantingtipsily over the edge, its network of half-exposed roots making a lastgallant stand against the erosive process and helping to hold the weightof the great boulders which ere long would crash down into the marshylowlands. 

They crept into a sort of leafy cave formed by a fallen tree andstretched their weary bodies and relaxed their tense nerves after whathad seemed a nightmare. 

"As long as we're going to join the army, " said Tom, "we might as wellmake a rule now. We won't both sleep at the same time till we're out ofGermany. We got to live up to that rule no matter how tired we get. "

"I'm game, " said Archer. "You go to sleep now and when I get good andsleepy I'll wake you up. "

"In about two hours, " said Tom. "Then you can sleep till it's light. Then we'll see if it's safe to stay here. Keep looking in thatdirection--the way we came. And if you see any lights, wake me up. "

Archer did not obey these directions at all, for he sat with his handsclasped over his knees, gazing down across the dark marshland below. Twohours, three hours, four hours, he sat there and scarcely stirred. Andas the time dragged on and there were no lights and no sounds he tookfresh courage and hope. He was beginning to realize the value of thestolid determination, the resourcefulness, the keen eye and stealthyfoot and clear brain of the comrade who lay sleeping at his side. He hadwanted to tell Tom Slade what he thought of him and how he trusted him, but he did not know how. So he just sat there, hour in and hour out, andlet the weary pathfinder of Temple Camp sleep until he awoke of his ownaccord. 

"All right, " said Archer then, blinking. "Nothing happened. "

CHAPTER X

THE SOLDIER'S PAPERS

All that day they stayed in their leafy refuge. They could look downacross the marshy meadows they had crossed to the trellised vineyard ofthe Leteurs, looking orderly and symmetrical in the distance like atwo-storied field, and beyond that the massive gables of the gray, forsaken house. 

They could see the whole neighboring country in panorama. Other houseswere discernible at infrequent intervals along the road which woundsouthward through the lowland between the hills where the boys were andthe Vosges Mountains (the "Blue Alsatian Mountains") to the west. Through the long, daylight hours Tom studied the country carefully. Now, as never before (for he knew how much depended on it), he watched forevery scrap of knowledge which might afford any inference or deductionto help them in their flight. 

"You can see how it is, " he told Archer, as they watched the littlecompass needle, waiting for it to settle. "This is a ridge and it runsnorth and south. I kind of think it's the west side of the valley of ariver, like Daggett's Hills are to Perch River up your way. "

"I'd like to be therre now, " said Archer. 

"I'd rather be in France, " Tom answered. 

"Of course it'll fizzle out in places and we'll come to villages, butthere's enough woods ahead of us for us to go twenty miles tonight. That's the way it seems to me, anyway. "

Once Tom ventured out on hands and knees into the woods in quest ofwater, and returned with the good news that he had had a refreshingdrink from a brook to which he directed Archer. 

"Do you know what this is?" he said, emptying an armful of weeds on theground. "It's chicory. If I dared to build a fire I could make you agood imitation of coffee with that. But we can eat the roots, anyway. Now I remember it used to be in the geography in school about so muchchicory growing in the Alps----"

"Oh, Ebeneezerr!" shouted Archer, much to Tom's alarm. "I'm glad yousaid that 'cause it reminds me about the mussels. "

"The _what_?"

"'The mountain streams abound with the pearrl-bearing mussels which area staple article of diet with the Alpine natives, '" quoted Archer indeclamatory style. "I had to write that two hundred and fifty times f'rrwhittlin' a hole in the desk----"

"I s'pose you were after a souvenir, " said Tom dryly. 

"Firrst I wrote it once 'n' then I put two hundred and forty-nine dittomarrks. _Ebenezerr!_ Wasn't the teacherr mad! I had to write it twohundred and fifty times f'rr vandalism and two hundred and fifty morref'rr insolence. "

"Served you right, " said Tom. 

"Oh, I guess you weren't such an angel in school either!" said Archer. "I'll never forget about those pearrl-bearing mussels as long as Ilive--you can bet!"

Tom separated the chicory roots from the stalks and Archer went to washthem in the stream. In a little while he returned with a triumphantsmile all over his round, freckled face and half a dozen mussels in hiscupped hands. 

"_Now_ what have you got to say, huh? It's good I whittled that desk andwas insolent--you can bet!"

Tom's practical mind did not quite appreciate this line of reasoning, but he was glad enough to see the mussels, the very look of which wascool and refreshing. 

"I always said I had no use for geographies except to put mustaches andthings on the North Pole explorers and high hats on Columbus and HenryHudson, but, believe _me_, I'm glad I remembered about thosepearrl-bearing mussels--hey, Slady? I hope the Alpine natives don't takeit into their heads to come up herre afterr any of 'em just now. I justrooted around in the mud and got 'em. Look at my hand, will you?"

They made a sumptuous repast of wet, crisp chicory roots and"pearrl-bearing mussels" as Archer insisted upon calling them, althoughthey found no pearls. The meal was refreshing and not half bad. Therewas a pleasant air of stealth and cosiness about the whole thing, lyingthere in their leafy refuge in the edge of the woods with the Alsatiancountry stretched below them. Perhaps it was the mussels out of thegeography (to quote Archer's own phrase) as well as the sense ofsecurity which came as the uneventful hours passed, but as the twilightgathered they enjoyed a feeling of safety, and their hope ran high. Theyhad found, as the scout usually finds, that Nature was their friend, never withholding her bounty from him who seeks and uses hisresourcefulness and brains. 

All through the long afternoon they could distinguish heavy army wagonswith dark spots on their canvas sides (the flaring, arrogant Germancrest which allied soldiers had grown to despise) moving northward alongthe distant road. They looked almost like toy wagons. Sometimes, whenthe breeze favored, they could hear the rattle of wheels andoccasionally a human voice was faintly audible. And all the while fromthose towering heights beyond came the spent, muffled booming. 

"I'd like to know just what's going on over there, " Tom said as he gazedat the blue heights. "Maybe those wagons down there on the road havesomething to do with it. If there's a big battle going on they may bebringing back wounded and prisoners. --Some of our own fellers might bein 'em. "

They tried to determine about where, along that far-flung line, thesounds arose, but they could only guess at it. 

"All I know is what I hearrd 'em say in the prison camp, " said Archer;"that our fellers are just the otherr side of the mountains. "

"That would be Nancy, " said Tom thoughtfully. 

"That Loquet feller that got capturred in a raid, " Archer said, "told methe Americans were all around therre, just the otherr side of themountains--in a lot of differrent villages: When they get throughtraining they send 'em ahead to the trenches. Some of 'em have been inraids already, he said. "

"You have to run like everything in a raid, " said Tom. "I'd like to bein one, wouldn't you?"

"Depends on which way I was running. --Let's have a look at these paperrsbefore it gets too darrk, hey?" he added, hauling from his pocket thepapers which he had taken from the dead Boche. "I neverr thought about'em till just now?"

"I thought about it, " said Tom, who indeed seldom forgot anything, "butI didn't say anything about it 'cause it kind of makes me think aboutwhat happened--I mean how they took her away, " he added, in his dullway. 

For a minute they sat silently gazing down at the vineyard which was nowtouched with the first crimson rays of sunset. 

"You can just see the chimney, " Tom said; "see, just left of that bigtree. --I hope I don't see Frenchy any more now 'cause I wouldn't like tohave to tell him----"

"We don't know what happened, " said Archer. "Maybe therre werren't anyotherr soldierrs; she may have escaped--and her motherr, too. "

"It's more likely there _were_ others, though, " said Tom. "I keepthinking all the time how scared she was and it kind of----"

"Let's look at the papers, " said Archer. 

The German soldier must have been a typical Boche, for he carried withhim the customary baggage of written and statistical matter with whichthese warriors sally forth to battle. 

"He must o' been a walking correspondence school, " said Archer, unfolding the contents of the parchment envelope. "Herre's a list--allin German. Herre's some poetry--or I s'pose it's poetry, 'cause it'sprinted all in and out. "

"Maybe it's a hymn of hate, " said Tom. 

"Herre's a map, and herre's a letter. All in Gerrman--even the map. Anyway, I can't understand it. "

"Looks like a scout astronomy chart, " said Tom. "It's all dots like thebig dipper. "

"Do you s'pose it means they're going to conquer the sky and all thestarrs and everything?" Archer asked. "Here's a letter, it's dated abouttwo weeks ago--I can make out the numbers all right. "

The letter was in German, of course, and Archer, who during his longincarceration in the prison camp had picked up a few scraps of thelanguage, fell to trying to decipher it. The only reward he had for hispains was a familiar word which he was able to distinguish here andthere and which greatly increased their desire to know the full purportof the letter. 

"Herre's President Wilson's name. --See!" said Archer excitedly. "Andherre's _America_----"

"Yes, and there it is again, " said Tom. "That must be _Yankees_, see?Something or other Yankees. It's about a mile long. "

"Jim-min-nitty!" said Archer, staring at the word (presumably adisparaging adjective) which preceded the word _Yankees_. "It's gotone--two--three--wait a minute--it's got thirty-seven letters to it. _Go-o-od night_!"

"And that must be Arracourt, " said Tom. "I heard about that place--itain't so far from Nancy. Gee, I wish we could read that letter!"

"I'd like to know what kind of a Yankee a b-l-o-e----"

But Archer gave it up in despair. 

CHAPTER XI

THE SCOUT THROUGH ALSACE

As soon as it was dark they started southward, following the ridge. Their way took them up hill and down dale, through rugged uplands wherethey had to travel five miles to advance three, picking their way overthe trackless, rocky heights which formed the first foothills of themighty Alps. 

"S'pose we should meet some one?" Archer suggested, as he followed Tom'slead over the rocky ledges. 

"Not up here, " said Tom. "You can see lights way off south and maybewe'll have to pass through some villages tomorrow night, but nottonight. We'll only do about twelve miles tonight if it keeps up likethis. "

"S'pose somebody should see us--when we'rre going through a village?We'll tell him we'rre herre to back the Kaiser, hey?"

"S'pose he's a Frenchman that belongs in Alsace, " Tom queried. 

"Then we'll add on _out o' France_. We'll say--look out for thatrock!--We'll just say we'rre herre to back the Kaiser, and if he lookssourr we'll say; _out o' France. Back the Kaiser out o' France_. We wineither way, see? A fellerr in prison told me General Perrshing wants alot of men with glass eyes--to peel onions. Look out you don't trip onthat root! Herre's anotherr. If you'rre under sixteen what part of thearrmy do they put you in? The infantry, of course. Herre's----"

"Never mind, " laughed Tom. "Look where you're stepping. "

"What I'm worrying about now, " said Archer, his spirits mounting as theymade their way southward, "is how we're going to cross the frontierrwhen we get to it. They've got a big tangled fence of barrbed wirre allalong, even across the mountains, to where the battleline cuts in. Andit's got a good juicy electric current running through it all the time. If you just touch it--good night!"

"I got an idea, " said Tom simply. 

"If I could get a piece of that electrified wirre for a souveneerr, "mused Archer, "I'd----"

"You'll have a broken head for a souvenir in a minute, " said Tom, "ifyou don't watch where you're going. "

"Gee, you've got eyes in your feet, " said Archer admiringly. 

"Whenever you see a fallen tree, " said Tom, "look out for holes. Itmeans the earth is thin and weak all around and couldn't hold theroots. "

"It ought to drink buttermilk, hey?" said Archer flippantly, "if it'sthin and pale. "

"I said thin and weak, " said Tom. "Do you ever get tired talking?"

"Sure--same as a phonograph record does. "

So they plodded on, encircling areas of towering rock or surmountingthem when they were not too high, and always working southward. Tom, whowas not unaccustomed to woods and mountains, thought he had never beforetraversed such a chaotic wilderness. He would have given a good deal fora watch and for some means of knowing how much actual distance they werecovering. It was slow, tiresome work. 

Every little while he would check their course by the little compass, tosee which he often had to light one of their few precious matches. 

"One thing surre, we won't meet anybody up herre, " said Archer, as hescrambled along. "See those little lights over to the east?"

"Don't worry, " said Tom, "that's twenty miles away. We're all right uphere. There were some lights further down too and one over that way butI can't see them now. I guess it's after midnight. Sh-h-h. Listen!"

They stood stark still, Archer gripping Tom's arm. 

"It's water trickling, " said Tom dully. 

"Gee, you had the life scared out of me!" breathed Archer. 

A little farther on they came to an abrupt, rocky declivity whichcrossed their course and in the bottom of which was a swift runningstream. 

"It's running east, " said Tom, listening intently. "I can tell by theripples. "

"Yes, you can!" said Archer contemptuously. 

"Sure I can, " Tom answered. He held his hand first to his right ear, then to his left. "The long, washy sound comes first when you close yourleft ear, so I know the water's flowing that way. It's easy, " he added. 

They kept along the precipitous brink, searching for a place to descendand at last scrambled down and into the shallow stream. 

"Didn't I tell you so?" said Tom, laying a twig in the water andwatching it as best he could in the dim light. "What's on the east ofAlsace, anyway?"

"Another parrt of Gerrmany--Baden, " Archer answered. 

"I was wondering where this stream goes, " Tom said; "let's walk along init a little way and go up at a different place. They can't track you inthe water. "

"I bet _you_ could, " said Archer admiringly. 

"Let's have a drink and give me a couple of those chicory roots, andI'll show you something, " Tom said. 

From each chicory root he cut a plug such as one cuts to test the flavorof a watermelon. Then he soaked the roots in the stream. "The inside'ssofter than the outside, " he said, "and it holds the water. " After a fewmoments he replaced the plugs. "Even tomorrow, " he added, "they'll befresh and cool and they'll quench your thirst. Carrots are best but wehaven't got any carrots. "

About fifty yards down stream they turned out of it and scrambled up aless abrupt hillside and into an area of more or less orderly forest. 

"Maybe it's the Black Forest, " said Archer; "anyway it's black enough. Look around and you'll probably see some toys--jumping-jacks and things. 'Most all the toys like that arre made in the Black Forest. "

"Not here, " said Tom; "we won't find anybody in here. "

They were indeed entering the less densely wooded region which formedthe extreme northern reaches of that mountainous wilderness famed insong and story as the Black Forest. Even here, where it fizzled out onthe eastern edge of Alsace, the world-renowned fragrance of its dark andstately fir trees was wafted to them out of the wild and solemn recessesthey were approaching. 

"I wish I had a map, " said Tom. 

"We ought to be thankful we've got the compass. If this _is_ the BlackForest, you can bet I'm going to get a sooveneer. Gee, isn't it dark! Itsmells good though, believe _me_. "

They passed on now over land comparatively level, the soft, fragrantneedles yielding under their feet, the tall cone-like trees diffusingtheir resiny, pungent odor. It seemed as if the war must be millions ofmiles away. The silence was deathlike and the occasional crunching of acone under their feet startled them as they groped their way in theheavy darkness. 

"That looks like an oak ahead, " said Archer. "You can see the branchessticking out----"

"Sh-h-h, " said Tom, grasping his arm suddenly and speaking in a tensewhisper. "Look--right under it--don't move----"

Archer looked intently and under the low spreading branches he saw ahuman form with something shiny upon its head. As the two boys paused, awestruck and shaking, it moved ever so slightly. 

The fugitives stood rooted to the ground, breathing in quick, shortgasps, their hearts pounding in their breasts. 

"He didn't see us, " whispered Tom, in the faintest whisper. "Wait tillthere's a breeze and get behind a tree. "

When presently the breeze rustled in the tress the two moved cautiouslybehind two trees. 

And the silent figure moved also. . . . 

[Illustration: "SH-H-H. " SAID TOM IN A TENSE WHISPER. "LOOK--DON'TMOVE. " Page 78]

CHAPTER XII

THE DANCE WITH DEATH

The boys were thoroughly frightened, but they stood absolutelymotionless and silent and Tom, at least, retained his presence of mind. They were not close enough together to communicate with each other, norcould they more than distinguish each other's forms pressed against thedark tree trunks. 

But the figure, being comparatively in the open, was discernible andTom, by concentrating his eyes upon it, satisfied himself beyond a doubtthat it was a human form--that of a German soldier, he felt sure. 

Thanks to his stealth and dexterity, they were apparently undiscovered. He tried to distinguish the bright spot on the cap or helmet, but it wasnot visible now, and he thought the man must have turned about. 

In his alarm it seemed to him that his breathing must be audible milesaway. His heart seemed in his throat and likely to choke him with everyfresh breath. But he did not stir. Then another little breeze stirredthe trees, sounding clear and solemn in the stillness and Tom moved everso slightly in unison with it, hoping by changing his angle of vision tocatch a better glimpse. He could see the bright spot now, the grimfigure standing directly facing him in ghostly silence. 

No one moved. And there was no sound save the half audible rustle ofsome tiny creature of the night as it hurried over the cushiony ground. 

What did it mean? Who was it, standing there? Some grim Prussiansentinel? Had they, in this remote wilderness, stumbled upon someobscure pass which the all-seeing eye of German militarism had notforgotten? Was there, after all, any hope of escape from these demons ofefficiency?

Archer, his chest literally aching from his throbbing breaths, crowdedclose behind his tree trunk in terror, startled by every fresh stir ofthe fragrant breeze. It seemed to him, as he looked, that the figuredanced a trifle, but doubtless that was only his tense nerves andblinking eyes playing havoc with his imagination. 

There was another rustling in the trees, caused by the freshening nightbreeze which Tom thought smelt of rain. And again the silent figureveered around with a kind of mechanical precision, the very perfectionof clock-work German discipline, as if to give each point of the compassits allotted moment of attention. 

Tom strained his eyes, trying to discover whether that lonely sentinelwere standing in a path or where two paths crossed or where some favoredview might be had of something far off in the country below. But hecould make out nothing. 

Suddenly he noticed something large and black among the trees. Itsoutline was barely discernible against the less solid blackness of thenight, and it was obscured by the dark tree branches. But as he lookedhe thought he could see that it terminated in a little dome, like thepolice telephone booths on the street corners away home in Bridgeboro. Atiny guardhouse, possibly, or shelter for the solitary sentinel. Perhaps, he thought, this was, after all, a strategic spot which theyhad unconsciously stumbled into; a secret path to the frontier, maybe. 

He remembered now the talk he had heard in the prison camp, of Germany'sbuilding roads through obscure places in the direction of the Swissborder for the violation of Swiss neutrality if that should be thoughtnecessary. These roads were shrouded in mystery, but he had heard aboutthem and the thought occurred to him that perhaps these poor Alsatianpeople--women and children--were being taken to work on these avenues ofbetrayal and dishonor. 

But try as he would, he could discern no suggestion of path, nor anyother sign of landmark which might explain the presence of this remotestation in the desolate uplands of Alsace. He believed that if they hadtaken five steps more they would have been discovered and challenged. How to withdraw out of the very jaws of this peril was now the question. He feared that Archer might make an incautious move and end all hope ofescape. 

Tom watched the solitary figure through the heavy darkness. And hemarvelled, as he had marvelled before, at the machine-like perfection ofthese minions of the Iron Hand. Even in the face of their awful dangerand amid the solemnity of the black night, the odd thought came to himthat this stiff form turning about like a faithful and tirelessweathercock to peer into the darkness roundabout, might be indeed a hugecarved toy fresh from the quaint handworkers of the Black Forest. 

As he gazed he was sure that this lonely watcher danced a step or two. No laughter or sign of merriment accompanied the grim jig, but he wassure that the solitary German tripped, ever so lightly, with a kind ofstiff grace. Then the freshening breeze blew Tom's rebellious hair downover his eyes, and as he brushed it aside he saw the German indeeddancing--there was no doubt of it. 

Suddenly a cold shudder ran through him and he stepped out from hisconcealment as he realized that this uncanny figure was not standing but_hanging_ just clear of the ground. 

CHAPTER XIII

THE PRIZE SAUSAGE

"Come on out, Archy, " said Tom with a recklessness which struck terrorto poor Archer's very soul. "He won't hurt you--he's dead. "

"D-e-a-d!" ejaculated Archer. 

"Sure--he's hanging there. "

"And all the time I wanted to sneeze, " said Archer, laughing in hisreaction from fear. "Ebe-nee-zerr, but I had a good scarre!"

Going over to the tree, they saw the ghastly truth. A man wearing agarment something like a Russian blouse, but of the field-gray militaryshade of the Germans (as well as the boys could make out by the aid of alighted match) was hanging by his garment which had caught in a lowspreading branch of the tree. His feet were just clear of the ground andas the breeze blew he swayed this way and that, the gathering strainupon his garment behind the neck throwing his limp head forward andgiving his shoulders a hunched appearance, quite in the manner of theclog dancer. The German emblem was blazoned upon his blouse andsuperimposed in shining metal upon the front of his fatigue cap. Even asthey paused before him he seemed to bow perfunctorily as if bidding thema ghastly welcome. 

Tom's scout instinct impelled him instantly to fall upon the ground insearch of enlightening footprints, but there were none and this puzzledhim greatly. He felt sure that the man had not been strangled, but hadbeen killed by impact with some heavier branch higher up in the tree;but he must have made footprints before he climbed the tree, and----

Suddenly he jumped to his feet, remembering what he had thought to be aguardhouse. It lay a hundred or more feet beyond the dangling body andas they neared it it lost its sentinel-station aspect altogether. 

"Well--what--do you--know about that?" said Archer. 

"It's an observation balloon, I'll bet, " said Tom. "A Boche sausage!Look for another man before you do anything else--there's always two. Ifhe's around anywhere we might get into trouble yet. "

It was a wise thought and characteristic of Tom, but the other man wasquite beyond human aid. He lay, mangled out of all semblance to a humanbeing, amid the tangled wreckage of the car. 

The fat cigar-shaped envelope of the balloon stood almost upright, andthough it looked not the least like a police telephone station now, itwas easy to see how, from a distance in the dim light, it might havesuggested a little round domed building. 

"How do you s'pose it happened?" Archer asked. 

"I don't know, " said Tom. "It's an observation balloon, that's sure. Maybe it was on its way back from the lines to somewhere or other. Hurryup, let's see what there is; it'll be daylight in two or three hours andwe don't want to be hanging around here. They might send a rescue partyor something like that, if they know about it. "

"Morre likely they don't, " said Archer. 

"I guess it only happened tonight, " said Tom, "or more gas would haveleaked out. Let's hunt for the eats and things. "

The wreckage of the car proved a veritable treasure-house. There was aflashlight and a telescopic field glass, both of which Tom snatched upwith an eagerness which could not have been greater if they had beenmade of solid gold. In the smashed locker were two good-sized tins ofbiscuit, a bottle of wine and several small tins of meat. Tom emptiedout the wine and filled the bottle with water out of the five-gallontank, from which they also refreshed their parched throats. The foodthey "commandeered" to the full capacity of their ragged pockets. 

"And look at this, " said Archer, hauling out a blouse such as thehanging German wore; "what d'ye say if I wearr it, hey? And the cap, too? I'll look like an observation ballooner, or whatever you call 'em. "

"Good idea, " said Tom, "and look!"

"A souveneerr?" cried Archer. 

"The best _you_ ever saw, " Tom answered, rooting in the engine toolchest by the aid of the flashlight and hauling out a pair of rubbergloves. 

"What good are those?" said Archer, somewhat scornfully. 

"_What good!_ They're a passport into Switzerland. "

"Do you have to wear rubber gloves in Switzerland?" Archer askedinnocently, as he ravenously munched a biscuit. 

"No, but you have to wear 'em when you're handling electrified wire, "said Tom in his stolid way. 

"G-o-o-d _night_! We fell in soft, didn't we!"

Indeed, for a couple of hapless, ragged wanderers, subsisting wholly bytheir wits, they had "fallen in soft. " It seemed that the very thingsneeded by two fugitives in a hostile country were the very things neededin an observation balloon. One unpleasant task Tom had to perform, andthat was to remove the blouse from the hanging German and don ithimself, which he did, not without some shuddering hesitation. 

"It's the only thing, " he said, "that would make anybody thinksomebody's been here, and that's just what we've got to look out for. The other things won't be missed, but if anybody should come here andsee him hanging there without his coat they'd wonder where it was. "

However, this was a remote danger, since probably no one knew of thedisaster. 

Tom's chief difficulty was in restricting that indefatigable souvenirhunter, Archer, from loading himself down with every conceivable kind ofuseless but interesting paraphernalia. 

"You're just like a tenderfoot when he starts out camping, " said Tom. "He takes fancy cushions and a lot of stuff; he'd take a brass bed and arolltop desk and a couple of pianos if you'd let him, " he added, withrather more humor than he usually showed. "All we're going to take isthe biscuits and two cans of meat and the flashlight and the fieldglass and the bottle, and, let's see----"

"I don't have to leave this dandy ivory cigar-holderr, do I?" Archerinterrupted. "We could use it for----"

"Yes, you do, and we're going to leave that cartridge belt, too, sochuck it, " ordered Tom. "If anybody _should_ come up here we don't want'em to think somebody else was here before 'em. All we're going to takeis just what I said--some of the eats, and the flashlight and the fieldglass and the bottle and the rubber gloves and the pliers and--that'sall. "

"Not even this dial-faced thing?" pleaded Archer. 

"That's a gas gauge or something, " said Tom. "Come on now, let's getaway from here. "

Archer pointed the flashlight and cast a lingering farewell gaze upon alarge megaphone. For a brief moment he had wild thoughts of trying topersuade Tom that this would prove a blessing as a hat, shedding thepelting Alsatian rains like a church steeple. But he did not quitedare. 

CHAPTER XIV

A RISKY DECISION

"Did you notice that Victrola?" Archer asked fondly. 

"Yes, it was busted; did you want that, too?"

"We might have used the arm for a chimney if we were building a fire, "Archer ventured. 

"We'd look nice crawling through these mountains with a Victrola in ourarms. The Fritzies always have a lot of that kind of junk with 'em. Theyhad one on the submarine that picked me up that time. "

They were both now clad in the semi-military blouses worn by the German"sausage men" and felt that to a casual observer at least they weredisguised. It gave them a feeling of security even in these unfrequentedhighlands. And their little store of food refreshed their spirits andgave them new hope. 

What cheered Tom most of all was his precious possession, the rubbergloves, a detail of equipment which every gas-engine mechanic is prettysure to have, though, he regarded the discovery as a rare find. He wasthankful to have found them, for the terrific deadly current which heknew rushed through the formidable wire entanglement along the frontierhad haunted him and baffled his wits. It was characteristic of Tom tothink and plan far ahead. 

All the next day they journeyed through the hills, making a long detourto avoid a hamlet, and meeting no one. And at night, under theclose-knit shelter of a great pine tree, they rested their weary bodiesand ate the last of their meat and biscuits. 

When Tom roused Archer in the morning it was to show him a surprisingview. From their wooded height they could look down across a vast tractof open country which extended eastward as far as they could see, running north and south between steep banks. Converging toward it out ofthe hills they had followed, they could see a bird's-eye panorama of thebroadening streams, the trickling beginnings of which they had fordedand drunk from, and their eyes followed the majestic water southwarduntil it wound away among the frowning heights which they had all butentered. 

"It's the Rhine, " said Archer, "and that's the real Black Forest whereit goes. Those mountains are in Baden; now I know. "

"Didn't I say there must be a big river over that way?" said Tom. "Iknew from the way that ridge went. It's a big one, huh?"

"You said it! Maybe that twig you threw in to see which way it went isfloating down the Rhine now. They'll use it in the Black Forest to makea toy out of, maybe. "

"I s'pose you'd like to have it for a souvenir. "

"If we could make a raft we could sail right down, hey?" queried Archerdoubtfully. 

Tom shook his head. "It must pass through big cities, " he said, "andwe're safe in the mountains. Anyway, it flows the other way, " he added. 

It was not difficult now for them to piece out a fairly accurate map ofthe locality about them. They were indeed near the eastern edge ofAlsace where the Rhine, flowing in a northeasterly direction, separatesthe "lost province" from the Duchy of Baden. To the south, on the Badenside, the mighty hills rolled away in crowding confusion as far as theycould see, and these they knew held that dim, romantic wilderness, theBlack Forest, the outskirts of which they had entered. 

Directly below the hill on which they rested was a tiny hamlet nestlingin the shadow of the steep ascent, and when Tom climbed a tree for abetter view he could see to the southwest close by the river a surgingmetropolis with countless chimneys sending their black smoke up into thegray early morning sky. 

"I bet it's Berrlin, " shouted Archer. "Gee, we'll be the firrst to gettherre, hey? It might be Berrlin, hey?" he added with less buoyancy, seeing Tom's dry smile. 

"It might be New York or Philadelphia, " said Tom, "only it ain't. Iguess it must be Strassbourg. I heard that was the biggest place inAlsace. "

They looked at it through their field glass and decided that it wasabout twenty miles distant. More to the purpose was the little hamletscarce half a mile below them, for their provisions were gone and as Tomscanned the country with the glass he could see no streams to thesouthward converging toward the river. He feared to have to go anothertwenty-four hours, perhaps, without food and water. 

"We got to decide another thing before we go any farther, too, " he said. "If we're going to hike into those mountains we've got to cross theriver and we'll be outside of Alsace. We won't meet any French peopleand Frenchy's button won't do us any good over there. But if we stay onthis side we've got to go through open country. I don't know which isbetter. "

They were indeed at a point where they must choose between the doubtfulhospitality of Alsace and the safe enveloping welcome of the mountainfastnesses. Like the true scout he was, Tom inclined to the latter. 

"Do you notice, " he said, looking down through the glass, "that housethat looks as if it was whitewashed? It's far away from the others. "

Archer took the glass and looking down saw a little white house with aheavy roof of thatch. A tipsy, ramshackle fence surrounded it and in theenclosure several sheep were grazing. The whole poor farm, if such itwas, was at the end of a long rustic overgrown lane and quite a distancefrom the cluster of houses which constituted the hamlet. By scramblingdown the rugged hillside one could reach this house without entering thehamlet at all. 

"If I dared, I'd make the break, " said Tom. 

"Suppose they should be Gerrmans living therre?" Archer suggested. "Iwouldn't risk it. Can't you see therre's a German flag on a flagpole?"

"That's just it, " said Tom. "If I knew they were French people I couldshow them Frenchy's button. If I was sure this uniform, or whatever youcall it, was all right, I'd take a chance. "

"It's all right at a distance, anyway, " Archer encouraged; "as long asnobody can see yourr face or speak to you. "

It was a pretty risky business and both realized it. After three days ofsuccessful flight to run into the very jaws of recapture by anill-considered move was not at all to Tom's liking, yet he felt surethat it would be equally risky to penetrate into that dark wildernesswhich stretched away toward the Swiss border without first ascertainingsomething of its extent and character, and what the prospect was ofgetting through it unseen. Moreover, they were hungry. 

Yet it was twilight and the distant river had become a dark ribbon andthe outlines of the poor houses below them blurred and indistinct in thegathering darkness before Tom could bring himself to re-enter the hauntsof men. 

"You stay here, " he said, "and I'll go down and pike around. There's onething, that house is very old and people don't move around here likethey do in America. So if I see anything that makes me think the houseis French then probably the people are French too. "

It was a sensible thought, more dependable indeed than Tom imagined, forin poor Alsace and Lorraine, of all places, people who loved their homesenough to remain in them under foreign despotism would probably continueliving in them generation after generation. There is no moving day inEurope. 

CHAPTER XV

HE WHO HAS EYES TO SEE

It was quite dark when Tom scrambled down and, with his heart beatingrapidly, stole cautiously across the hubbly ground toward thedilapidated brush fence which enclosed the place. The disturbing thoughtoccurred to him that where there were sheep there was likely to be adog, but he would not turn back. 

He realized that he was gambling with those hard-won days of freedom, that any minute he might be discovered and seized. But the courage whichhis training as a scout had given him did not forsake him, and hecrossed the fence and stealthily approached the house, which was hardlymore than a whitewashed cabin with two small windows, one door and adisheveled roof, entirely too big for it as it seemed to Tom. The oddconceit occurred to him that it ought to be brushed and combed like ashocky head of hair. Within there was a dim light, and protecting eachwindow was a rough board shutter, hinged at the top and held open at anangle by a stick. 

He crept cautiously up and examined these shutters with minutest care. He even felt of one of them and found it to be old and rotten. Then hefelt to see if his precious button was safe in his pocket. 

Evidently the dilapidated shutter suggested something to him, for heglanced about as if looking for something else, and seemed encouraged. Now he stole a quick look this way or that to anticipate the approach ofany one, and then looked carefully about again. 

At last his eyes lit upon the flagpole which was projected diagonallyfrom the house, with the flag, which he knew must be the German flag, depending from it. The distant sight of this flag had quite discouragedArcher's hopes, but Tom knew that the compulsory display of the Teutoncolors was no indication of the sentiment of the people. 

He was more interested in the rough, home-made flagpole which heventured to bend a little so as to bring its end within reach. This heexamined with a care entirely disproportionate to the importance of thecrude, whittled handiwork. He pushed the drooping flag aside ratherimpatiently as it fell over his face, and felt of the end of the poleand scrutinized it as best he could in the darkness. 

It was roughly carved and intended to be ornamental, swelling into akind of curved ridge surmounted by a dull, dome-like point. He felt itall over, then cautiously bending the pole down within reach of hismouth, he bit into the wood and deposited the two or three loosesplinters in his pocket. 

Then he hurried back up the hill to rejoin Archer. 

"Let me have the flashlight, " he said with rather more excitement thanhe often showed. And he would say no more till he had examined thelittle splinter of wood in its glare. 

"It's all right, " he said; "we're safe in going there. See this? It's asplinter from the flagpole----"

"A souveneerr!" Archer interrupted. 

"There you go again, " said Tom. "Who's talking about souvenirs? See howwhite and fresh the wood is--look. That's off the end of the pole whereit's carved into kind of a fancy topknot. And it was whittled inside ofa year. "

"_I_ could whittle it inside of an hour, " said Archer. 

"I mean it was whittled not longer than a year ago, 'cause even theweather hasn't got into it yet. And it's whittled like afleur-de-lis--kind of, " Tom added triumphantly. 

"Why didn't you bring the whole of it?"

"When they were building the shacks at Temple Camp, " said Tom, "therewas a carpenter who was a Frenchman. I was good friends with him and hetold me a lot of stuff. He always had some wine in his dinner pail. Heshowed me how French carpenters nail shingles. Instead of keeping thenails in their mouths like other carpenters do, they keep them up theirsleeves and they can drop them down into their hands one by one as fastas they need them. They hit 'em four times instead of two--do you knowwhy?"

"To drive 'em in, " suggested Archer. 

"'Cause in France they don't have cedar shingles, like we do; they haveshingles made out of hard wood. And they get so used to hitting the nailfour raps that they can't stop it--that's what he said. "

"Here's another one, " said Archer. "You can't drive a nail with asponge--no matter how you soak it. "

"He told me some other things, too, " said Tom, ignoring Archer'sflippancy. "He used to talk to me while he was eating his lunch. The wayhe got started telling me about the different way they do things inEurope was when he put the shutters on the big shack. He put the hingesat the top 'cause that's always the way they do in France. He said inItaly they put 'em on the left side. In America they put them on theright side--except when they have two. 

"So when I saw the shutters on that old house I happened to notice thatthe hinges were at the top and that made me think it was probably aFrenchman's home. "

"Maybe it isn't now even if it was when the shutterrs werre made, " saidArcher skeptically. 

"Then I happened to remember something else that man told me. Maybe youthink the fleur-de-lis is only a fancy kind of an emblem, but it ain't. He told me the old monks that used to carve things--no matter what theycarved you could always find a cross, or something like a cross in it. 'Cause they _think_ that way, see? The same as sailors always tattoofishes and ships and things on their arms. He said some places in theBlack Forest the toymakers are French peasants and you can always tellif a fancy thing is carved by them on account of the shape of thefleur-de-lis. It ain't that they do it on purpose, " he added; "it'sbecause it's in their heads, like. They don't always make regularfleur-de-lis, but they make that kind of curves. He told me a lot aboutNapoleon, too, " he added irrelevantly. 

"So when I happened to think about that, I looked around to see if Icould find anything to prove it, kind of. It don't make any differenceif the German flag _is_ on that pole; they've _got_ to do that. When Isaw the topknot was carved kind of like a fleur-de-lis I knew Frenchpeople must have made it. And it was only carved lately, too, " he addedsimply, "'cause the wood is fresh. "

"Gee whillicums, but you're a peach, Slady!" said Archer ecstatically. "Shall we take a chance?"

"Of course I don't know for sure, " Tom added, "but we've got to go bysigns--just like Indian signs along a trail. If you pick up an old flintarrowhead you know you're on an Indian trail. "

"Christopherr _Columbus!_ But I'd like to find one of those arrowheadsnow!" said Archer. 

CHAPTER XVI

THE WEAVER OF MERNON

But for all these fine deductions, you are not to suppose that Tom andArcher approached the little house without trepidation. The nearer theycame to it the less dependable seemed Tom's theory. 

"It might be all right in a story book, " Archer said, backsliding intodismal apprehensions. But before he had a chance to lose his courage Tomhad knocked softly on the door. They could hear a scuffling sound insideand then the door was opened cautiously by a little stooping old manwith a pale, deeply wrinkled face, and long, straight white hair. Fromhis ragged peasant's attire he must have been very poor and theprimitive furnishings in the dimly lighted room, of which they caught aglimpse, confirmed this impression. But he had a pair of keen blue eyeswhich scrutinized the travellers rather tremulously, evidently supposingthem to be German soldiers. 

"What have I done?" he asked fearfully in German. 

Tom wasted no time trying to understand him, but bringing forth his ironbutton he held it out silently. 

The effect was electrical; the old man clutched the button eagerly andpoured forth a torrent of French as he dragged the boys one after theother into his poor abode and shut the door. 

"We're Americans, " said Tom. "We can't understand. "

"It iss all ze same, " said the man. "I will talk in ze American. How youcame with ziss button--yess? Who have sent you?"

To Tom's surprise he spoke English better than either Florette or herbrother, and the boys were infinitely grateful and relieved to heartheir own language spoken in this remote place. 

"We are Americans, " said Tom. "We escaped from the prison camp acrossthe Alsace border, and we're on our way to the frontier. I knew you wereFrench on account of the fleur-de-lis on the end of your flagpole----"

"And ze button--yess?" the old man urged, interrupting him. 

Tom told him the whole story of Frenchy and the Leteurs, and of how hehad come by his little talisman. 

"I have fought in zat regiment, " the old man said, "many years beforeyou are born. I have seen Alsace lost--yess. If you were Germans I would_die_ before I would give you food. But I make you true welcome. I havebeen many years in America. Ah, I have surprise you. "

"What is this place?" Archer ventured to ask. 

"Ziss is Mernon--out of fifty-two men they take forty-one to zetrenches. My two sons, who are weavers too, they must go. Now they takethe women and the young girls. "

Further conversation developed the fact that the old man had worked in asilk mill in America for many years and had returned to Alsace and thishumble place of his birth only after both of his sons, who like himselfwere weavers, had been forced into the German service. "If I do not comeback and claim my home, it is gone, " he said. So he had returned and wasworking the old hand loom with his aged fingers, here in the place ofhis birth. 

He was greatly interested in the boys' story and gave them freely of hispoor store of food which they ate with a relish. Apparently he was notunder the cloud of suspicion or perhaps his age and humble conditionand the obscurity and remoteness of his dwelling gave him a certainimmunity. In any event, he carried his loathing of the Germans with afine independence. 

"In America, " he said, "ze people do not know about ziss--ziss beast. Here we _know_. Here in little Mernon our women must work to make zeroad down to ze river. Why is zere needed a road to ze river? Why iszere needed ze new road above Basel? To bring back so manyprisoners--wounded? Bah! Ziss is what zey _say_. Lies! I have been asoldier. Eighty-two years I am old. And much I have travelled. So can Isee. What you say in Amerique--make two and two together--yess? Zerewill be tramping of soldiers over zese roads to invade littleSwitzerland. Am I right? If it is necessaire--yess! _Necessaire!_Faugh!"

This was the first open statement the boys had heard as to the newroads, all of which converged suspiciously in the direction of the Swissfrontier. They were for bringing home German wounded; they were tofacilitate internal communication; they were for this, that and theother useful and innocent purpose, but they all ran toward the Swissborder or to some highway which ran thither. 

"Ziss is ze last card they have to play--to stab little Switzerland inze back and break through, " the old man said. "In ze south runs a roadfrom ze trench line across to ze Rhine. Near zere I have an oldcomrade--Blondel. Togezzer we fight side by side, like brothers. When zeboat comes, many times he comes to see me. Ze last time he come he tellme how ze new road goes past his house--all women and young girlsworking. It comes from ziss other road zat goes from ze trenches over toze Rhine. South it goes--you see?" he added shrewdly. "So now if you areso clevaire to see a fleur-de-lis where none is intentioned, so zen youcan tell, maybe, why will zey build a road zat goes south?"

Tom, fascinated by the old man's sagacity and vehemence, only shook hishead. 

"Ah, you are not so clevaire to suspect! Ziss is Amerique! Nevaire willshe suspect. "

Tom did not altogether like this reference to Uncle Sam's gullibility, but he contented himself with believing that it was meant as a thing ofthe past. 

"They can't flim-flam us now, " Archer ventured. 

"Flam-flim--no, " the old man said, with great fervor. 

"Maybe that's where they took my friend's sister and his mother, " Tomsaid. 

"I will tell you vere zey take them, " the old man interrupted. "You knowAlsace--no? So! See! I tell you. " He approached, poking Tom's chest withhis bony finger and screwing up his blue eyes until he seemed a verydemon of shrewdness. They wondered if he were altogether sane. 

"Nuzzing can zey hide from Melotte, " he went on. "Far south, near Basel, zere lives my comrade--Blondel. To him must you show your button--yess. In Norne he lives. "

"We'll write that down, " said Tom. 

"Nuzzing you write down, " the old man said sharply, clutching Tom's arm. "In your brain where you are so clevaire--zere you write it. So! You arenot so clevaire as Melotte. Now I will show you how you shall findMam'selle, " he went on with a sly wink. 

Emptying some wool out of a paper bag, he pressed the wrinkles from thebag with his trembling old hand and bending over the rough table closeto the lantern, he drew a map somewhat similar to, though less completethan, the one given here. 

[Illustration: SHOWING THE ROUTE TAKEN BY TOM AND ARCHER. ]

There is nothing like a map to show one "where he is at, " to quoteArcher's phrase, and the boys followed with great interest as Melottepenciled the course of the Rhine and the places which he wished toemphasize in the southern part of Alsace. 

"Here at Norne lives my comrade, Blondel, " he said. "Two years we worktogezzer at Pas_sake_--you know? In ze great silk mills. "

"Passaic, " said Tom; "that's near Bridgeboro, where I live. "

"Pas_sake_, yess. So now you are so clevaire to know who shall leeve ina house, I will tell you how you shall know ze house of my comrade, Blondel. _By ze blue flag with one black spot!_ Yess? You know what zissshall be? _Billet!_" He gave Archer a dig in the ribs as if thisrepresented the high water mark of sagacity. 

"Oh, I know, " said Archer; "it means Gerrman officerrs are billetedtherre. Go-o-od _night_! Not for us!"

The old man did not seem quite to understand, but he turned again to hismap. "Here now is ze new road, " he said, drawing it with his shaky oldhand. "From ze Rhine road it runs--south--so. Now you are soclevaire--Yankee clevaire, ha, ha, ha!" he laughed with a kind ofirritating hilarity; "why should zey make ziss road? From ze north--fromLeteur--all around--zey bring our women to make ziss road. Ziss iswhere Mam'selle is--so! Close by it lives my comrade, Blondel. Ziss isnoble army to command, ugh!" He gritted his teeth. "_All are women!_"

Tom looked at the map, as old Melotte poised his skinny finger above itand peered eagerly up into his face from the depths of his scragglywhite hair. It was little enough Tom knew about military affairs and hethought that this lonesome old weaver was in his dotage. But surely thisnew road could be for but one purpose, and that was the quick transferof troops from the Alsatian front to the Swiss border. And the suddenconscription of women and girls for the making of the road seemedplausible enough. Could it be that this furnished a clew to thewhereabouts of Florette Leteur? And if it did, what hope was there ofreaching her, or of rescuing her?

He listened only abstractedly to the old man's rambling talk ofGermany's intention to violate Swiss neutrality if that became necessaryto her purpose. His eyes were half closed as he looked at the roughsketch and he saw there considerably more than old Melotte had drawn. 

He saw Frenchy's sister Florette, slender and frail, wielding someheavy implement, doing her enforced bit in this work of shamelessbetrayal. He could see her eyes, sorrow-laden and filled with fear. Hecould see her as she had stood talking with him that night in the arbor. He could see her, orphaned and homeless, slaving under the menacingshadow of a German officer who sprawled and lorded it in the poor homeof this Blondel close by the new road. _Here he climb to drop ze grapesdown my neck. Bad boy!_ Strange, how that particular phrase of herssingled itself out and stuck in his memory. 

"So now you are so _clevaire_, " he half heard old Melotte saying toArcher. 

And Tom Slade said nothing, only thought, and thought, and thought. . . . 

CHAPTER XVII

THE CLOUDS GATHER

"We never thought about asking him to translate that letterr, " saidArcher. 

"I'm not thinking about that letter, " Tom answered. "All I'm thinkingabout now is what he said about that new road. I'm not even thinkingabout their going through Switzerland, either, " he added with greatcandor. "I'm thinking about Frenchy's sister. If they've got her workingthere I'm going to rescue her. I made up my mind to that. "

"_Some job!_" commented Archer. 

"It don't make any difference how much of a job it is, " said Tom, withthat set look about his mouth that Archer was coming to know andrespect. 

They were clambering up the hillside again, for not all old Melotte'shospitable urging could induce Tom to remain in the hut until daylight. 

He would have liked to take along the rough sketch which the old manhad made, but this Melotte had strenuously opposed, saying that no mapsshould be carried by strangers in Germany. So Tom had to content himselfwith the old man's rather rambling directions. 

Several things remained indelibly impressed on his mind. Old Melotte hadtold him that upon the western bank of the Rhine about fifteen milesabove the Swiss border was an old gray castle with three turrets, andthat directly opposite this and not far from the Alsatian bank was thelittle village of Norne. 

"The way I make it out, " said Archer, "is that this Blondel, whoeverr heis, has got some Gerrman officerr wished on him and that geezerr hascharrge of the women worrking on the new road. I'd like to know how youexpect to get within a mile of those people in the daytime. "

"We got plenty of time to think it out, " Tom answered doggedly, "'causewe'll be in the woods a couple of days and nights and that's wherethoughts come to you. "

"We'd be big fools, afterr gettin' all the way down to the frontierr tocross the riverr and go huntin' forr a road in broad daylight, " saidArcher; "we'd only get caught. "

"Well, we'll get caught then, " retorted Tom. 

"Anyway, I think the old fellow's half crazy, " Archer persisted. "He'sgot roads on the brain. He jumps all around from Norrne to Passaicand----"

"He gave us something to eat, " said Tom curtly. 

"Well, I didn't say he didn't, did I?" Archer snapped. "If we'd had anysense, we'd have stayed therre all night like he wanted us to. Therrewouldn't have been any dangerr in that old shack, a hundred miles fromnowherre. "

"We're safest in the hills, " said Tom. 

"It's going to rain, too, " Archer grumbled. 

Tom made no answer and they scrambled in silence up the uninvitinghillside, till old Melotte's shack could be seen far below with the dimlight in its windows. 

"You'rre so particularr about not bein' caught, " Archer began again, "it's a wonder you wouldn't think morre about that when we get downclose to the borrderr. If I've got to be caught at all I'd ratherr becaught now. "

They had regained the height above the little hamlet and to the souththey could see the clustering lights of Strassbourg and here and there amoving light upon the river. 

"We've got to cross that, too, I s'pose, " Archer said sulkily. 

Tom did not answer. The plain fact was that they were both thoroughlytired out, with that dog-tiredness which comes suddenly as a reactionafter days of nerve-racking apprehension and hard physical effort. Forthe first two days their nervous excitement had kept them up. But nowthey were fagged and the tempting invitation to remain at the hovel hadbeen too strong for Archer. Moreover, this new scheme of Tom's to diverttheir course in a hazardous quest for Florette Leteur was not at all tohis liking. But mostly he was tired and everything looks worse when oneis tired. 

"We're not going to keep on hiking it tonight, are we?" he demanded. 

"You said yourself that the old man was kind of--a little off, like, "Tom answered patiently. "He's got the bug that he's very shrewd and thathe can always get the best of the Germans. Do you think I'd take achance staying there? We took a chance as it was. "

"Yes, and you'rre going to take a biggerr one if you go chasing all overGerrmany after that girrl. You won't find herr. That was a lot ofrattlebrain talk anyway--we're _so clevaire_!"

"There's no use making fun of him, " said Tom; "he helped us. "

"We'll get caught, that'll be the end of it, " said Archer sullenly. Tomdid not answer. 

"You seem to be the boss of everything, anyway. "

They scrambled diagonally down the eastern slope of the high ground, heading always toward the river and after an hour's travelling came outupon its shore. 

"Here's where we'll have to cross if we're going to cross at all, " saidTom. "What do you say?"

"_I_ haven't got anything to say, " said Archer; "_you're_ doin' all thesaying. "

"If we go any farther south, " Tom went on patiently, "we'll be too nearStrassbourg and we're likely to meet boats. Listen. "

From across the river came the spent whistle of a locomotive accompaniedby the rattling of a hurrying train, the steady sound, thin and clear inthe still night, mingling with its own echoes. A few lights, widelyseparated, were visible across the water and one, high up, reassured Tomthat the mountains, the foothills of which they had followed, continuedat no great distance from the opposite shore. 

There were welcoming fastnesses over there, he knew, and a dim, widebelt of forest extending southward. There, safe from the haunts of men, or at least with timely warning of any hamlets nestling in those sombredepths, he and his comrade might press southward toward that promisedland, the Swiss border. 

Yet, strangely enough (for one side of a river is pretty much like theother) Tom felt a certain regret at the thought of leaving Alsace. Perhaps his memory of the Leteurs had something to do with this. Perhapshe had just the boyish feeling that it would change their luck. And heknew that over there he would be truly in the enemy's country, with themagic of his little talisman vanished in air. 

Yet right here he must decide between open roads and stealthyhospitality and that silent, embracing hospitality which the lonesomeheights would offer. And he decided in favor of the lonesome heights. Perhaps after all it was not the enemy's country, though the names ofBaden and Schwarzwald certainly had a hostile sound. 

But the rugged mountains and dim woods are never enemies of the scout, and perhaps Tom Slade of Temple Camp felt that even the Schwarzwald, which is the Black Forest, would forget its allegiance to whisper itssecrets in his ear. 

CHAPTER XVIII

IN THE RHINE

"What do you say?" said Tom. "It's up to both of us. "

"Oh, don't mind me, " Archer answered sarcastically. "_I_ don't count. Iknow one thing--_I'm_ going to head straight for the Swiss borderr. Ifcrossing the river herre's the quickest way to do it, then that's whatI'm going to do, you can bet!"

For a moment Tom did not speak, then looking straight at Archer, hesaid, --

"You don't forget how she helped us, do you?"

"I'm not saying anything about that, " said Archer. "My duty's to UncleSam. You've got the _crazy_ notion now that you want to rescue a girrl, just like fellerrs do in story books. If you'rre going to be thinkingabout herr all the time I might as well go by myself. I could get alongall right, if it comes to that. "

"Well, I couldn't, " said Tom, with a note of earnestness in his voice. "Anyway, there's no use of our scrapping about it 'cause I don'tsuppose we'll find her. As long as we're going south through themountains we might as well see if we can pick out Norne with the glass. Maybe we could even see that feller Blondel's house. The old man saidthe west slopes of the mountains were steep and that they run close tothe river down there, so we ought to be able to pick out Norne with theglass. There isn't any harm in that, is there?" he added conciliatingly, "as long as we've got the glass?"

Archer maintained a sullen silence. 

"I know we've got to think about Uncle Sam, and I know you'repatriotic, " said Tom generously, "and we can't afford to be taking bigchances. But if you had known her brother, you'd feel the way Ido--that's one sure thing. "

"I wouldn't run the risk of getting pinched and sent back to prison juston account of a girrl, " said Archer scornfully. "_That's one surething_, " he added, sulkily mimicking Tom's phrase. 

"That ain't the way it is, " said Tom, flushing a little. "I ain't--ifthat's what you mean. Anyway, I admit we got to be careful, and Ipromise you if we can't spy out the house and the road with the glass Iwon't cross the river again till we get to the border. "

"First thing you know somebody'll come along if we keep on standinghere, " said Archer. 

"Here, you take one of these rubber gloves, " said Tom. "Shut the glassand see if it'll go inside. I'll put the flashlight and the compass inthe other one. It's going to rain, too. Here, let me do it, " he addedrather tactlessly, as he closed the little telescope and forced itssmaller end down into the longest of the big glove fingers. "Twist thetop of it and turn the edges over, see?" he added, doing it himself, "and it's watertight. I can make a watertight stopple for a bottle witha long strip of paper, but you got to know how to wind it, " he added, with clumsy disregard of his companion's mood. Tom was a hopelessbungler in some ways. 

"Oh, surre, _you_ can do anything, " said Archer. 

"Maybe it would be best if you held it in your teeth, " said Tomthoughtfully; "unless you can swim with it in your hand. "

The compass and the flashlight, which indeed were more susceptible ofdamage from the water than the precious glass, were encased in the otherrubber glove, and the two fugitives waded out into the black, silentriver. 

Scarcely had their feet left the bottom when the first drop of rain fellupon Tom's head, and a chill gust of wind caught him and bore him ayard or two out of his course. He spluttered and looked about forArcher, but could see nothing in the darkness. He did not want to callfor he knew how far voices carry across the water, and though the spotwas isolated he would take no chances. 

It rained hard and the wind, rising to a gale, lashed the black waterinto whitecaps. Tom strove vainly to make headway against the storm, butfelt himself carried, willy-nilly, he knew not where. He tried todistinguish the light beyond the Baden shore, which he had selected fora beacon, but he could not find it. At last he called to Archer. 

"I'm going to turn back, " he said; "come on--are you all right?"

If Archer answered his voice was drowned by the wind and rain. For a fewmoments Tom struggled against the elements, hoping to regain theAlsatian shore. His one guiding instinct in all the hubbub was theconviction that the wind smelled like an east wind and that it ought tocarry him back to the nearer shore. He would have given a good deal fora glimpse of his precious little compass now. 

"Where are you?" he called again. "The light's gone. Let the wind carryyou back--it's east. "

He could hear no answer save the mocking wind and the breaking of thewater. This latter sound made him think the shore was not far distant. But when, after a few moments, he did not feel the bottom, his heartsank. He had been lost in the woods and as a tenderfoot he had known thefeeling of panic despair. And he had been in the ocean and seen his shipgo down with a torpedo's jagged rent in her side. But he had never beenlost in the water in the sense of losing all his bearings in thedarkness. For a minute it quite unnerved him and his stout heart sankwithin him. 

Then out of the tumult came a thin, spent voice, barely audible andseeming a part of the troubled voices of the night. 

"----lost----, " it said; "----going down----"

Tom listened eagerly, his heart still, his blood cold within him. 

"Keep calling, " he answered, "so I'll know where you are. I'll get toyou all right--keep your nerve. "

He listened keenly, ready to challenge the force of the storm with allhis young skill and strength, and thinking of naught else now. But noguiding voice answered. 

Could he have heard aright? Surely, there was no mistaking. It was ahuman voice that had spoken and whatever else it had said that one, tragic word had been clearly audible:

"----down----"

Archer had gone down. 

CHAPTER XIX

TOM LOSES HIS FIRST CONFLICT WITH THE ENEMY

"Down!"

For the first time in Tom Slade's life a sensation of utter despairgripped him and it was not until several seconds had elapsed, while hewas tossed at the mercy of the storm, that he was able to get a grip onhimself. He struck out frantically and for just a brief minute wasguilty of a failing which he had never yielded to--the perilous weaknessof being rattled and hitting hard at nothing. In swimming, above allthings, this is futile and dangerous, and presently Tom regained hismental poise and struck out calmly, swimming in the direction in whichthe wind bore him, for there was nothing else to do. Not that his efforthelped him much, but he knew the good rule that one should never bepassive in a crisis, for inaction is as depressing to the spirit asfrantic exertion is to the body. And he knew that by swimming he couldkeep his "morale"--a word which he had heard a good deal lately. 

His heart was sick within him and a kind of cold desperation seized him. Archer, whom he had known away back home in America, whom he had foundby chance in the German prison camp, who had trudged over the hills andthrough the woods with him, was lost. He would never see him again. Archer, who was always after souvenirs. . . . 

These were not thoughts exactly, but they flitted through Tom'sconsciousness as he struggled to keep his head clear of the tempestuouswaters. And even in his own desperate plight he recalled that their lastwords had been words of discord, for he knew now (generous as he was)that _he_ was to blame for this dreadful end of all their finehopes--that Archer had been right--they should have stayed at Melotte'shovel. Amid the swirl of the waters, as he swam he knew not where, heremembered how Archer had said he ought to think of his duty to UncleSam and not imperil his chance to help by going after Florette Leteur. 

He was sick, utterly sick, and nearer to hopelessness than he had everbeen in his life; but he struck out in a kind of mechanical resignation, believing that the wind and the trend of the water must bring him to oneshore or the other before he was exhausted. There was no light anywhere, no clew or beacon of any sort in that wild blackness, and since hetherefore had no reason to oppose his strength to the force of the stormhe swam steadily in the direction in which it carried him. It made nodifference. Nothing mattered now. . . . 

After a while the noise of the lashing changed to that lapping soundwhich only contact with the land can give, and soon Tom coulddistinguish a solid mass outlined in the hollow blackness of the night. He had no guess whether it was the Baden or the Alsatian shore that hewas approaching nor how far north or south he had been carried. Nor didhe much care. 

His foot touched something hard which brought him to the realizationthat he must lessen the force of his advance or perhaps have his lifedashed out upon a rocky shore; and presently he was staggering forward, brushing his hair away from his eyes, wondering where he was, andscarcely sensible of anything--his head throbbing, his whole body on theverge of exhaustion. 

"It's my fault--anyway--I got to admit it----" he thought, "and--itserves--me--right. "

One firm resolution came to him. Now that Providence had seen fit tocast him ashore, if he was to be permitted to continue his flight alone, he would go straight for his goal, the Swiss border, and not be ledastray (that is what he called it, _led astray_) by any otherenterprise. His duty as a soldier, and he thought of himself as asoldier now, was clear. His business was to help Uncle Sam win the warand he must leave it to Uncle Sam to put an end to the stealing of younggirls and to restore them to their homes. He saw himself now, as Archerhad depicted him, in the silly role of a "story book hero" and he feltashamed. He knew that General Pershing would not have sent him rescuinggirls, and that the best way he could help France, and even the Leteurs, was to hurry up and get into the trenches where he belonged. Yes, Archerwas right. And with a pang of remorse Tom remembered how Archer had saidit, "rescuing a girrl!" He would never hear Archer talk like that anymore. . . . 

He had more than once been close enough to death to learn to keep hisnerve in the presence of it, but the loss of his companion quiteunnerved him. It had not occurred to him that anything _could_ happen toArcher, who claimed himself that he always landed right side up becausehe was lucky. Tom could not realize that he was gone. 

Still, comrades were lost to each other every day in that far-flungtrench line and in that bloody sea of northern France friends wereparted and many went down. 

"_Down_----"

How that awful word had sounded--long drawn out and faint in the stormand darkness!

He stumbled over a rocky space and ran plunk into something solid. As helooked up he could distinguish the top of it; uneven and ragged itseemed against the blackness of the night. Whatever it was, it seemed tobe slender and rather high, and the odd thought came to him that he wason the deck of some mammoth submarine, looking up at the huge conningtower. Perhaps it was because he _had_ once been rescued by a submarine, or perhaps just because his wits were uncertain and his nerves unstrung, but it was fully a minute before he realized that he was on solidearth--or rock. It afforded him a measure of relief. 

What that grim black thing could be that frowned upon him he did notknow, and he staggered around it, feeling it with his hands. It was ofmasonry and presently he came to what was evidently a door, which openedas he leaned against it. Its silent hospitality was not agreeable tohim; the very thought of a possible German habitation roused him out ofhis fatigue and despair, and with a sudden quick instinct he drewstealthily back until presently he felt the water lapping his feetagain. 

Here, at a comparatively safe distance, he paused for breath after whathe felt to be a worse peril than the storm, and felt for the one trustyfriend he had left--the little compass. The precious rubber glovecontaining this and the flashlight was safe in his pocket, and he heldboth under his coat and tried to throw the light upon the compass andget his bearings. But the glove must have leaked, for the battery wasdead. The little compass, which was to prove so useful in days to come, was probably still loyal after its immersion, but he could notdistinguish the dial clearly. 

He knew he must go southeast, where the dim woods seemed now to beckonhim like a living mother. Never had the thought of the mountains and thelonely forest been so grateful to this scout before. If only he hadstrength to get there. . . . 

"What you _got_ to do--you do, " he panted slowly under his breath, frowning at the compass and trying in the darkness to see which way thatfaithful little needle turned. Once, twice, he looked fearfully uptoward that grim building. 

Then he decided, as best he might, which direction was southeast anddragged his aching legs that way until presently he was stumbling inthe water again. 

Surely, he thought, the river ran almost north and south, and southeast_must_ lead on into the mountains. But perhaps he had not read thecompass aright or perhaps he was on the edge of a deep bay, which wouldmean water extending still westward. Or perhaps he was on the Alsatianshore. 

For a moment he stood bewildered. Then he tried to read the compassagain and started forward in the direction which he thought to be west. If he were on the Alsatian shore, this should take him away from thatblack, heartless Teuton ruin. 

But it only took him into a chaos of broken, shiny rock where hestumbled and fell, cutting his knee and making his head throb cruelly. 

And then Tom Slade, seeing that fate was against him, and having usedall the resource and young strength that he had, to get to the boys"over there, " gave up and lay among the jagged rocks, holding his headwith one bruised hand and thinking hopelessly of this end of all hisefforts. 

CHAPTER XX

A NEW DANGER

He did not know how long he lay there, but after a while he crept alongover the slimy rocks and because it was not easy to stand alone helimped to that grim, threatening structure, and leaned against it, trying to collect his faculties. 

"If he was--only here now, " he breathed, half aloud, "I'd let him--I'dbe willing not to be boss--like he said. That's the--trouble--withme--I'm always wanting to--be----Oh, my head----"

He knew now, what it was a pretty hard thing for one of his indomitabletemperament to realize, that things were out of his hands, that he couldgo no farther. North or south or east or west, he could go no farther. Capture or firing squad or starvation and death from exhaustion, hecould go no farther. His name would not be sent home on the casualtylists, any more than Archer's would, but they had _tried_, and donetheir bit as well as they could. 

There was one faint hope left; perhaps this house was not occupied, orif it was on the Alsatian side of that terrible river (a true Hun river, if there ever was one) it might be occupied by a Frenchman. Scarcelyknowing what he was doing, Tom pushed the door open and staggeredinside. Dazed and suffering as he was, he was conscious of the rainpelting on the roof above him and sounding more audibly than outsidewhere the boisterous river drowned the sound of the downpour. 

Something big and soft which caught in his feet was directly before himand he stumbled and fell upon it. And there he lay, pressing histhrobbing forehead, which seemed bursting with fresh pain from the forceof his fall. 

He had a reckless impulse to end all doubt by calling aloud in utterabandonment. But this impulse passed, perhaps because he did not havethe strength or spirit to call. 

Soon, from mere exhaustion, he fell into a fitful, feverish slumberaccompanied by a nightmare in which the lashing of the wind and rainoutside were conjured into the clangor and hoof beats of cavalry and hewas hopelessly enmeshed in a barbed-wire entanglement. 

With the first light of dawn he saw that he was lying upon a mass offishnet and that his feet and arms were entangled in its meshes. 

He was in a small, circular apartment with walls of masonry and a brokenspiral stairway leading up to a landing beside a narrow window. Rainstreamed down from this window and trickled in black rivulets all overthe walls. A very narrow doorway opened out of this circular room, fromwhich the door was broken away, leaving two massive wrought-iron hingessticking out conspicuously into the open space. As Tom's eyes fell uponthese he thought wistfully of how eagerly Archer would have appropriatedone of them as a "souveneerr. " Poor, happy-go-lucky Archer!

"I thought he was a good swimmer, " Tom thought, "because he lived sonear Black Lake. [A] It was all my fault. He probably just didn't like tosay he wasn't----"

[Footnote A: The lake on the shore of which Temple Camp was situated. ]

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to ease the pain in his head andcollect his scattered senses. Evidently, he was alone in this dankplace, for there was no sign of occupancy nor any sound but the lightpatter of rain without, for the storm had spent its fury and subsidedinto a steady drizzle. 

He dragged himself to his feet, and though his knee was stiff he wasglad to discover that he was not incapable of walking. He believed hewas not feverish now and that his headache was caused by shock andbruising rather than by illness. Perhaps, he thought, he was not sobadly off after all. Except for Archer. . . . 

Limping to the doorway he peered cautiously out. The sky was dull andhazy and a steady, drizzling rain fell. There is something about adrear, rainy day which "gets" one, if he has but a makeshift shelter;and this bleak, gray morning carried poor Tom's mind back with a rush torainy days at his beloved Temple Camp when scouts were wont to gather intent and cabin for yarns. 

He now saw that he was on a little rocky islet in the middle of theriver and that the structure which had sheltered him was a small tower, very much like a lighthouse except that it was not surmounted by alight, having instead that rough turret coping familiar in medievalarchitecture. Far off, through the haze, he could distinguish, close tothe shore, a gray castle with turrets, which from his compass he knew tobe on the Baden side. He thought he could make out a road close to theshore, and other houses, and he wished that he had the spy-glass so thathe might study this locality which he hoped to pass through. 

Of course, he no longer cherished any hope of finding Florette Leteur;Archer's chiding words still lingered in his mind, and, moreover, without the glass he could do nothing for he certainly would never havethought of entering Norne without first "piking" it from a safe vantagepoint. 

There was nothing to do now but nurse his swollen knee and rest, in thehope that by night he would be able to swim to the Baden shore and getinto the hills. Never before had he so longed for the forest. 

"If it wasn't for--for him being lost, " he told himself, as he limpedback into the tower, "I wouldn't be so bad off. There's nobody liveshere, that's sure. Maybe fishermen come here, but nobody'll come today, I'll bet. "

After all, luck had not been unqualifiedly against him, he thought. Herehe was in an isolated spot in the wide river. What was the purpose ofthis little tower on its pile of rocks he could not imagine, but it wasfast going to ruin and save for the rotting fishing seine there was nosign of human occupancy. 

If only Archer were there it would not be half bad. But the thought ofhis companion's loss sickened him and robbed the lonely spot of suchaspect of security as it might otherwise have had for him. Still, hemust go on, he must reach the boys in France, and fight for Archer too, now--Archer, whom his own blundering had consigned to death in thesetreacherous waters. . . . 

He looked out again through the doorway at the dull sky, and the rainfalling steadily upon the sullen water. It was a day to chill one'sspirit and sap one's courage. The whole world looked gray and cheerless. Again, as on the night before, he heard the rattle of a train in thedistance. High up through the drenched murky air, a bird sped across theriver, and somehow its disappearance among the hills left Tom with asinking feeling of utter desolation. In Temple Camp, on a day like this, they would be in Roy Blakeley's tent, telling stories. . . . 

"Anyway, it's better to be alone than in some German's house, " he triedto cheer himself. "We--I--kept away from 'em so far, anyway----"

He stopped, holding his breath, with every muscle tense, and his heartsank within him. For out of that inner doorway came a sound--a soundunmistakably human--tragically human, it seemed now, shattering hisreturning courage and leaving him hopeless. 

It was the sound of some one coughing!

CHAPTER XXI

COMPANY

Ordinarily Tom Slade would have stopped to think and would have kept hisnerve and acted cautiously; but he had not sufficiently recovered hispoise to meet this emergency wisely. He knew he could not swim away, that capture was now inevitable, and instead of pausing to collecthimself he gave way to an impulse which he had never yielded to before, an impulse born of his shaken nerves and stricken hope and the sort ofrecklessness which comes from despair. What did it matter? Fate wasagainst him. . . . 

With a kind of defiant abandonment he limped to the little stone doorwayand stood there like an apparition, clutching the sides with tremblinghands. But whatever reckless words of surrender he meant to offer frozeupon his lips, and he swayed in the opening, staring like a madman. 

For reclining upon a rough bunk, with knees drawn up, was ArchibaldArcher, busily engaged in whittling a stick, his freckled nose wrinklingup in a kind of grotesque accompaniment to each movement of his handagainst the hard wood. 

"I--I thought----" Tom began. 

"Well, --I'll--be----" countered Archer. 

For a moment they stared at each other in blank amaze. Then a smilecrept over Tom's face, a smile quite as unusual with him as his suddenspirit of surrender had been; a smile of childish happiness. He almostbroke out laughing from the reaction. 

"Are you carvin' a souvenir?" he said foolishly. 

"No, I ain't carrvin' no souveneerr, " Archer answered. "Therre's fishamong those rocks and I'm goin' to spearr 'em. "

"You ain't carvin' a _what_!" said Tom. 

"I ain't carrvin' a souveneerr, " Archer said with the familiar CatskillMountain roll to his R's. 

"I just wanted to hear you say it, " said Tom, limping over to him andfor the first time in his life yielding to the weakness of showingsentiment. 

"All night long, " he said, sitting down on the edge of the bunk, "I wasthinkin' how you said it--and it sounds kind of good----"

"How'd you make out in the riverr?" Archer asked. 

"You can't even say _river_, " said Tom, laughing foolishly in his greatrelief. 

"It was some storrm, all right! But I got the matches safe anyway, andthey'll strike, 'cause I tried one. "

"You ought to have made a whisk stick[A] to try it, " said Tom, thencaught himself up suddenly. "But I ain't going to tell you what youought to do any more. I'm goin' to stop bossin'. "

[Footnote A: A stick the end of which is separated into fine shavingswhich readily catch the smallest flame, a familiar device used byscouts. ]

"I got yourr spy-glass forr you, " said Archer. "I had to dive f'rr't. Didn't you hearr me call to you it was lost and I was goin' downf'rr't?"

"----lost----down----"

The tragic words flitted again through Tom's mind, and he reached outand took Archer's hand hesitatingly as if ashamed of the feeling itimplied. 

"What'd you do that for? You were a fool, " he said. 

"What you _got_ to do, you do, " said Archer; "that's what you'rre alwayssayin'. Didn't you say you wanted it so's you could see that fellerrBlondel's house from the mountains? Therre it is, " he said, noddingtoward an old ring-net that stood near, "and it's some souveneerr too, 'cause it's been at the bottom of the old Rhine. "

Tom looked at the spy-glass which Archer had thrown into the net and thenet seemed all hazy and tangled for his eyes were brimming. He would notspare himself now. 

"I see I'm the fool, " he stammered; "I thought I shouldn't have startedacross because maybe you couldn't swim so good and didn't want to admitit. "

"Me? I dived in Black Lake before you werre borrn, " said Archer. Thiswas not quite true, since he was two years younger than Tom, but Tomonly smiled at him through glistening eyes. 

"I see now I was crazy to think about finding her--anyway----"

"You haven't forrgot how she treated us, have you?" Archer retorted, quoting Tom's own words. "It came to me all of a sudden, when I droppedthe glove, and that's when I called to you. And all of a sudden Ithought how you walked back toward the house with herr that nightand--and--do you think I don't understand--you darrned big chump?"

CHAPTER XXII

BREAKFAST WITHOUT FOOD CARDS

"Do you know what I think?" said Archer. "If Alsace used to belong toFrance, then the Rhine must have been the boundary between France andGerrmany and we'rre right on that old frontierr now--hey? I'm a smarrtlad, huh? They used to have watch towers and things 'cause I got kept inschool once forr sayin' a poem wrong about a fellerr that was in a watchtowerr on the Rhine. I bet this towerr had something to do with that oldfrontierr and I bet it was connected with that castle overr on shorre, too. Therre was a picture of a fellerr in a kind of an arrmorr lookingoff the top of a towerr just like this--I remember 'cause I marrked himup with a pencil so's he'd have a swallerr-tailed coat and a sunbonnet. "

Archer's education was certainly helping him greatly. 

"If we could once get overr therre into that Black Forest, " hecontinued, scanning the Baden shore and the heights beyond with therescued glass, "we'd be on easy street 'cause I remember gettin' lickedforr sayin', 'the abrupt west slopes of this romantic region aresomething or otherr with wild vineyards that grow in furiousthing-um-bobs----'"

"_What?_" said Tom. 

"_Anyway_, there's lots of grapes there, " Archer concluded. 

"If that's the way you said it I don't blame 'em for lickin' you, " saidsober Tom. "I think by tonight I'll be able to swim it. There seems tobe some houses over there--that's one thing I don't like. "

The Baden side, as well as they could make out through the haze, waspretty thickly populated for a mile or two, but the lonesome mountainsarose beyond and once there, they would be safe, they felt sure. 

They spent the day in the dilapidated frontier tower, as Archer calledit, and he was probably not far from right in his guess about it. Certainly it had not been used for many years except apparently byfishermen occasionally, and the rotten condition of the seines showedthat even such visitors had long since ceased to use it. Perhaps indeedit was a sort of outpost watch tower belonging to the gray castle whichthey saw through the mist. 

"Maybe it belonged to a Gerrman baron, " suggested Tom. 

"Anyway, it's a _barren_ island, " said Archer; "are you hungry?"

Tom sat in the doorway, favoring his hurt knee, and watched Archer movecautiously about among the sharp, slippery rocks, where he succeeded incornering and spearing several bewildered fish which the troubled watersof the night had marooned in these small recesses. 

"I'm afraid, you'll be seen from the shore, " Tom said, but without thatnote of assurance and authority which he had been accustomed to use. 

"Don't worry, " said Archer, "it's too thick and hazy. Just wait till Ispearr one morre. Therre's a beaut, now----"

They wasted half a dozen damp matches before they could get flame enoughto ignite the whisk stick which Tom held ready, but when they succeededthey "commandeered" the broken door as a "warr measurre, " to quoteArcher, and kindled a fire just inside the doorway where they believedthat the smoke, mingling with the mist, would not be seen through thegray, murky atmosphere. 

It is a great mistake to be prejudiced against a fish just because it isGerman. Tom and Archer were quite free from that narrow bias. And if itshould ever be your lot to be marooned in a ramshackle old watch toweron the Rhine on a dull, rainy day, remember that the same storm whichhas marooned you will have marooned some fishes among the crevices ofrock--only you must be careful to turn them often and not let them burn. The broken rail of an old spiral stairway, if there happens to be onehandy, can be twisted into a rough gridiron, and if you happen to thinkof it (as Tom did) you can use the battery case of your flashlight for adrinking-cup. 

"If we couldn't have managed to get a light with these damp matches, " hesaid, as they partook of their sumptuous breakfast, "we'd have just hadto wait till the sun came out and we could a' got one with the lens inthe spy-glass. "

Once a scout, always a scout!

CHAPTER XXIII

THE CATSKILL VOLCANO IN ERUPTION

All day long the dull, drizzling rain continued, and as the hours passedtheir hope revived and their courage strengthened. 

"Therre's one thing I'm glad of, " said Archer, "and that's that Ithought about putting that Gerrman soldierr's paperrs in the glove. I'vegot a hunch I'd like to know what that letterr says. "

"I'm glad you did, " said Tom. "I got to admit _I_ didn't think of it. "

By evening Tom's knee was much better though still sore, and his headpained not at all. They had but one thought now--to swim to shore andget into the mountains where they believed they could continue theircourse southward. Swimming to the nearest point on the east, or Badenbank, would, they could see by the glass, bring them into a fairlythickly populated district and how to get past this and into theprotecting highlands troubled them. They had thus far avoidedcivilization and towns, where they knew the ever-watchful eye ofPrussian authority was to be feared. They knew well enough that theirwet garments constituted no disguise; but they could, at least, get toshore and see how the land lay. 

They were greatly elated at their success so far, and at theirprovidential reunion. Whatever difficulties they had encountered theyhad surmounted, and whatever difficulties lay ahead they would meet andovercome, they felt sure. 

As the day wore away, the rain ceased, but the sky remained dull andmurky. Their plan was to wait for the darkness and they were talkingover their good luck and what they thought the rosy outlook when Tom, looking toward the Alsatian shore with the glass, saw a small boat whichwas scarcely distinguishable in the hazy twilight. 

"I don't believe it's coming this way, " he said confidently, handing theglass to Archer. But at the same time he was conscious of a sinkingsensation. 

"Yes, it is, " said Archer; "it's coming right for us. "

"Maybe they're just rowing across, " said Tom. 

Archer watched the boat intently. "It's coming herre all right, " hesaid; "we'rre pinched. Let's get inside, anyway. "

Tom smiled with a kind of sickly resignation. "Let's see, " he said;"yes, you're right, they've got uniforms, too. It's all up. We mighthave had sense enough to know. I bet they traced us all the way throughAlsace. There's no use trying to beat that crowd, " he added in cynicaldespair. 

Hope dashed when it is just reviving brings the most hopeless of alldespair, and with Tom, whose nerves had been so shaken, their imminentcapture seemed now like a kind of mockery. 

"When I found you were all right, " he said to Archer in his dull way, "and we were all alone here, I might have known it was too good to betrue. I wouldn't bother now. I just got bad luck. --When I tried for thepathfinders' badge and tracked somebody that stole something, " he addedwith his stolid disregard for detail, "I found it was my own father, andI didn't claim the badge. That's the kind of luck _I_ got. So I wouldn'ttry any more. 'Cause if you got bad luck you can't help it. I dropped myknife and the blade stuck in the ground--up at Temple Camp--and that'sbad luck. Let 'em come----"

[Illustration: "IT'S FIFTY-FIFTY, --TWO AGAINST TWO, " SAID ARCHER. Page153]

This side of Tom Slade was new to Archer, and he stared curiously at thelowering face of his companion. 

"That's what you call losing your morale, " he said; "if you losethat--go-od _night_! Suppose General Joffre said that when the Hunswerre hitting it forr Paris! S'pose _I_ said that when my foot stuck inthe mud on the bottom of this plaguey riverr!"

"I didn't know that, " said Tom. 

"Well, you know it now, " retorted Archer, "and I don't give up till theyland me back in prison, and I don't give up then, eitherr. And I ain'tlettin' any jack-knives get _my_ goat--so you can chalk that up in yerrlittle old noddle!"

"I guess that's the trouble, " Tom began; "my head aches----"

"Can you swim now?" Archer demanded. 

"You go, " said Tom; "my knee's too stiff. "

"If you everr say a thing like that to me again, " said Archer, his eyessnapping and his freckled face flushing scarlet, "I'll----"

"I didn't think we'd start till midnight, " Tom said, "and I thought myknee'd be well enough by that time. "

The little boat, as they could see from the doorway, bobbed nearer andnearer and Archer could see that it contained two men. 

"They've got on uniforms, " Archer said, "but I can't see what they arre. Let's keep inside. "

"They know we're here, " said Tom; "they'd only shoot us if we startedaway. "

Closer and closer came the little boat until one of its occupants jumpedout, hauling it into one of the little rocky caverns of the islet. Thenboth came striding up to the doorway. 

As soon as they caught sight of the boys they paused aghast and seemedto be much more discomfited than either Tom or Archer. Evidently theyhad not come for the fugitives and the thought occurred to Archer thatthey might be fugitives themselves. 

"Vell, vat you do here, huh?" one asked. 

Archer was managing this affair and he managed it in his own sweet way. 

"We're herre because we're herre, " he said, in a perfect riot of rollingR's. 

"You German--no?"

"No, thank goodness! We'rre not, " Archer said recklessly. "Are wepinched?"

"How you come here?" the German demanded in that tone of arrogantseverity which seems to imply, "I give you and the whole of the rest ofthe world two seconds to answer. "

Tom, whose spirits revived at this rather puzzling turn of affairs, watched the two soldiers keenly and noticed that neither had sword orfirearms. And he realized with chagrin that in those few moments of"lost morale, " he had been strangely unworthy of himself and of hisscout training. And feeling so he let Archer do the talking. 

"We're Americans. "

"Americans, ach! From prison you escape, huh?" the younger soldiersnapped. "You haff a peekneek here, huh?" And turning to his companionhe poured a kind of guttural volley at him, which his comrade answeredwith a brisk return of heavy verbal fire. Archer, listening intently andusing his very rudimentary knowledge of German, gathered that whoeverand whatever these two were, they were themselves in the perilousbusiness of escaping. 

"They'rre in the same box as we are, " he said to Tom. "Don't worry. "

It did not occur to the boys then, though they often thought of itafterward, when their acquaintance with the strange race of Huns hadbeen improved, that these two soldiers manifested not the slightestinterest in the experiences which the boys had gone through. Almostimmediately and without condescending to any discourse with them, thetwo men fell to discussing how they might _use_ them, just as theirmasters had used Belgium and would use Switzerland and Holland if itfell in with their purpose. 

After the generous interest that Frenchy and his people had shown andthe lively curiosity about his adventures which British Tommies in theprison camp had displayed, Tom was unable to understand this arrogantdisregard. Even a greasy, shifty-eyed Serbian in the prison had askedhim about America and "how it felt" to be torpedoed. 

It was not just that the two soldiers regarded the boys as enemies, either. They simply were not German and therefore nothing that they didor said counted or was worth talking about. 

At last the one who seemed to be the spokesman said, "Ve make a treaty, huh?"

It was more of an announcement than a question, and Archer looked at Tomand laughed. 

"A treaty!" said he. "Good _night_! Do you mean a scrap o' paperr?"

"Ve let you off, " said the German in a tone of severe condescension. "Vegif you good clothes--here, " he added, seeming unable to get away fromhis manner of command. "Ve go feeshing. Ve say nutting--ve let you go. You escape--ach, vat iss dis?" he added deprecatingly. "Ve saynutting. "

"And we don't say anything eitherr, is that it?" said Archer. 

"Eef you talk you can't escape, what? Vy shall you talk, huh?"

Tom looked at Archer, who screwed up his freckled nose and gazedshrewdly at the Germans with a sagacious and highly satisfied look inhis mischievous eye. 

"That's the treaty, is it?" he said. "And that's just the kind of--shutup!" he interpolated, glancing sideways at Tom. "I'll do thetalking--that's just the kind of stuff you'rre trying to put overr onPresident Wilson, too--tryin' to make the otherr fellerr think he'slicked and then making believe you'rre willing to be generous. You gotthe nerrve (the R's fairly rolled and rumbled as he gatheredmomentum)--you got the nerrve to come herre with out any guns or sworrdsand things and think you can scarre us. Do you know--shut up!" he shotat Tom by way of precaution. "Do you know wherre I think yourr sworrdsand things arre? I think the English Tommies have got 'em. I know allabout you fellerrs deserrting--I hearrd about it in prison. You'rredeserrting every day. Some of you arre even surrenderrin' to get a goodsquarre meal. And do you know what an English Tommy told me--youconsarrned blufferr, you----"

He was in full swing now, his freckled nose all screwed up and rollingout his R's like artillery. Even sober Tom couldn't help smiling at thegood old upstate adjective, _consarrned_. 

"He told me a Hun is no good when he loses his gun or his sworrd. Youdon't think I'm a-scarred of _you_, do you? It's fifty-fifty--twoagainst two, you pair of bloomin' kidnapperrs, and you won't tell 'causeyou can't afford to! Same reason as we won't. But you can't put oneoverr on me any morre'n you can on President Wilson and if you'rre forrmaking treaties you got to get down off your high horrse--see? You ain'tgot a superiorrity of numbers now! You got nothing but fourr fists, sameas we got. Forr two cents, I'd wash yourr face on those rocks! Treaties!I come from Corrnville Centre, I do, and----"

Tom laughed outright. 

"You shut up!" said Archer. "You want to make a treaty, huh? All right, that'll be two Huns less forr the Allies to feed. We'll swap with you, all right, and I wish you luck. I don't know wherre you'rre going orwhat you'rre going to do and I don't carre a rotten apple. Only youain't going to dictate terrms to _me_. You'll take these crazy old ragsand you'rre welcome to 'em, and we'll take yourr uniforms if that's whatyou want. Treaty! _We'll_ make a treaty with you! And we'll take theboat too, and if that don't satisfy you then that's the end of thewhat-d'-you-call it! You keep still!" he added, turning to Tom. 

CHAPTER XXIV

MILITARY ETIQUETTE

"What did you mean by the _what-d'-you call it?_" Tom asked, as theyrowed through the darkness for the Baden shore. 

"Arrmis-stice, " said Archer, wrestling with the word. 

"Oh, " said Tom. 

"That's the way to handle 'em, " Archer said with undisguisedsatisfaction. 

"I never saw you like that before, " said Tom. "I had to laugh when yousaid _consarn_. "

"That's the Huns all overr, " said Archer, his vehemence not yetaltogether abated. "They'll try to do the bossing even afterr they'rrelicked. Treaties! They've got theirr firrst taste of a _Yankee_ treaty, hey? Didn't even have a sworrd and wanted me to think they werre doin'us a favorr! President Wilson knows how to handle that bunch, all right, all right!--Don't row if you'rre tirred. "

"It don't hurt my leg to row, only I see now I couldn't swim it. "

"Think I didn't know that?" said Archer. 

"I got to admit you did fine, " said Tom. 

"You got to get 'em down on theirr knees beforre you make a treaty with'em, " boasted Archer. "You can see yourself they'rre no good when theyhaven't got any commanderr--or any arrms. When Uncle Sam makes a treatywith that gang, crab-apples, but I hope he gets the boat, too. "

"I know what you mean, " said Tom soberly. "I have to laugh at the wayyou talk when you get mad. It reminds me of the country and TempleCamp. "

"That's one thing I learned from knockin' around in Europe since thiswarr starrted, " said Archer. "The botches, or whatever you call 'em, areno darrned good when you get 'em alone. The officers may be all right, but the soldierrs are thick. If I couldn't 'a' knocked the bluff out o'that lord-high critturr, I'd 'a' rubbed his pie face in the mud!"

Tom laughed at his homely expletives and Archer broke out laughing too, at his own expense. But for all that, Tom was destined to recall, andthat very soon, what Archer had said about the Huns. And he was shortlyto use this knowledge in one of the most hazardous experiences of hislife. 

They were now, thanks to their treaty, both dry clad in the field-grayuniforms of the German rank and file; and though they felt somewhatstrange in these habiliments they enjoyed a feeling of security, especially in view of the populated district they must pass through. 

Of the purposes and fate of their late "enemies" they had no inkling andthey did not greatly concern themselves about this pair of fugitives whohad crossed their path. They knew, from the gossip in "Slops" prison, that Germany was full of deserters who were continually being rounded upbecause, as Archer blithely put it, they were "punk scouts and had noresourrce--or whatever you call it. " Tom did not altogether relish theimplication that a deserter might be a good scout or _vice versa_, buthe agreed with Archer that the pair they had encountered would probablynot "get away with it. "

"If they had a couple o' generrals to map it out forr 'em, maybe theywould, " said Archer. 

"I think I'm above you in rank, " said Tom, glancing at an arrow sewn onhis sleeve. 

"I'm hanged if I know what that means, " Archer answered. "Therre's acouple morre of 'em on your collarr. Maybe you'rre a generral, hey? I'mjust a plain, everyday botch. "

"Boche, " said Tom. 

"Same thing. "

They landed at an embankment where a railroad skirted the shore and itoccurred to Tom now that the guiding light which had forsaken him thenight before was a railroad signal which had been turned the other wayafter the passage of the train he had heard. At his suggestion, Archerbored a hole in the boat and together they gave it a smart push out intothe river. 

"Davy Jones forr you, you bloomin' tattle_tile_, as the Tommies wouldsay, " Archer observed in reminiscence of his vast and variedacquaintanceship. "Come on now, we've got to join our regiment and blowup a few hospitals. How do you like being a botch, anyway?"

"I'd rather be one now than a year from now, " said Tom. 

"Thou neverr spakst a truerr worrd. 

 "Oh, Fritzie Hun, he had a gun, And other things that's worrse; He didn't like the foe to strike, So he shot a Red Cross nurrse, "

Archer rattled on. 

"Can't you say _nurse_?" said Tom. 

"Surre I can--nurrrrse. "

Tom laughed. 

They tramped up through the main street of a village, for the populatedarea was too extensive to afford hope of a reasonably short detour. Thefew people whom they passed in the darkness paid no particular heed tothem. They might have been a couple of khaki-clad boys in America forall the curiosity they excited. 

At the railroad station an army officer glared at them when they salutedand seemed on the point of accosting them, which gave them a momentaryscare. 

"We'd better be careful, " said Tom. 

"Gee, I thought we had to salute, " Archer answered. 

They followed the railroad tracks through an open sparsely populatedregion as far as the small town of Ottersweier. The few persons who wereabroad paid no particular attention to them, and as long as no one spoketo them they felt safe, for the street was in almost total darkness. Once a formidable-looking German policeman scrutinized them, or so theythought, and a group of soldiers who were sitting in the dark entranceof a little beer garden looked at them curiously before saluting. Mostof these men were crippled, and indeed as they passed along it seemedto the fugitives that nearly every man they passed either had his arm ina sling or was using crutches. 

"Do you think maybe they had a hunch we werren't Gerrman soldierrs atall?" Archer queried. 

"No, " said Tom. "I think they just didn't want to salute us till theywere sure we were soldiers like themselves. I think a soldier hasn't gota right even to salute an officer here unless the officer takes somenotice of him. Maybe the officer's got to glance at him first, orsomething. "

"G-o-od _night_!" said Archer. "Reminds you of America, don't it--_not'arf_, as the Tommies say. Wouldn't it seem funny not daring to speak toan officerr therre? Many's the chat I've had with French generals andEnglish ones, too. Didn't I give old Marshal What's-his-name an elasticband to put around his paperrs?"

In all probability he had, for he was an aggressive and brazen youngsterwithout much respect for dignity and authority, and Tom was glad whenthey reached the hills, for he had been apprehensive lest his comrademight essay a familiar pleasantry with some grim official or launchhimself into the perilous pastime of swapping souvenirs with a Germansoldier. 

But they were both to remember this business about saluting which, ifTom was right, was eloquent of the German military system, showing howhigh was the officer and how low the soldier who might not even pay hisarrogant superior the tribute of a salute without permission. 

This knowledge was to serve Tom in good stead before many days shouldpass. 

CHAPTER XXV

TOM IN WONDERLAND

All through that night, with their compass as a guide, they climbed thehills, keeping in a southerly direction, but verging slightly eastward. In the morning they found themselves on the edge of a high, deeplywooded plateau, which they knew extended with more or less uniformity tothe Swiss frontier. 

Looking ahead of them, in a southerly direction, they could see dim, solemn aisles of sombre fir trees and the ground was like a brown velvetcarpet, yielding gently under their feet. The air was laden with apungent odor, accentuated by the recent storm, and the damp, resinyfragrance was like a bracing tonic to the fugitives, bidding themwelcome to these silent, unfrequented depths. 

They were now, indeed, within the precincts of the renowned Schwarzwald, whose wilderness toyland sends forth out of its sequestered hamlets (ordid) wooden lions, tigers and rhinoceroses for the whole world, andmonkeys on sticks and jumping-jacks and little wooden villages, like thelittle wooden villages where they are made. 

The west slopes of this romantic region were abrupt, almost like thePalisades of the Hudson, running close to the river in some places, andin other places descending several miles back from the shore, so that apanoramic view of southern Alsace was always obtainable from the sharpedge of this forest workshop of Santa Claus. In the east the plateauslopes away and peters out in the lowlands, so that, as one might say, the Black Forest forms a kind of huge natural springboard to afford onea good running jump across the Rhine into Alsace. 

Archer's battered and misused geography had not lied about thecommissary department of this storied wilderness, for the wild grapes(of which the famous Rhenish wine is made) did indeed grow in "furiouswhat-d'you-call-'ems" or luxurious profusion if you prefer, upon theprecipitous western slopes. 

All that day they tramped southward, meeting not a soul, and feelingalmost as if they were in a church. It seemed altogether grotesque thatGermany, grim, fighting, war-crazy Germany, should own such a peacefulregion as this. 

In the course of the day, they helped the prohibition movement, asArcher said, by eating grapes in such quantities as seriously to reducethe output of Rhenish wine. "But, oh, Ebeneezerr!" he added. "Whatwouldn't I give for a good russet apple and a dipper of sweet cider. "

"You're always thinking about apples and souvenirs, " said Tom. 

"You can bet I'm going to get a souveneerr in herre, all right!" Archerannounced. "Therre ought to be lots of good ones herre, hey?"

"Maybe they grow in furious what-d'you-call-'ems?" suggested sober Tom. 

"If it keeps as level as this, we ought to be able to waltz into thebarrbed wirre by tomorrow night. This is the only thing about Gerrmanythat's on the level, hey?"

Toward evening they had the lesser of the two surprises which were instore for them in the Black Forest. They were hiking along when suddenlyTom paused and listened intently. 

"What is it?" Archer asked. 

"A bird, " said Tom, "but I never heard a bird make a noise like thatbefore. "

"He's chirrping in Gerrman, " suggested Archer. 

The more Tom listened, the more puzzled he became, for he had thescout's familiarity with bird voices and this was a new one to him. 

"Therre's a house, " Archer said. 

And sure enough there, nestling among the firs some distance ahead, wasthe quaintest little house the boys had ever seen. It was almost like atoy house with a picturesque roof ten sizes too big for it, and a funnylittle man in a smock sitting in the doorway. Hanging outside was alarge cuckoo clock and it was the wooden cuckoo which Tom had heard. 

Shavings littered the ground about this tiny, wilderness manufactory, and upon a rough board, like a scout messboard, were a number of littlehandmade windmills revolving furiously. Wooden soldiers andstolid-looking horses with conventional tails, all fresh from the deftand cunning hands which wielded the harmless jack-knife, were piledhelter-skelter in a big basket waiting, waiting, waiting, for the end ofthe war, to go forth in peace and goodwill to the ends of the earth andnestle snugly in the bottom of Christmas stockings. 

This quaint old man could speak scarcely any English, but when the boysmade out that he was Swiss, and apparently kindly disposed, theysprawled on the ground and rested, succeeding by dint of motions and afew words of German in establishing a kind of intercourse with him. Hewas apparently as far removed from the war as if he had lived in theFiji Islands, and the fugitives felt quite as safe at his rustic abodeas if they had been on the planet Mars. His nationality, too, gave themthe cheering assurance that they were approaching the frontier. 

"Vagons--noh, " he said; "no mohr. " Then he pointed to his brimmingbasket and said more which they could not understand. 

Like most persons who live in the forest, he seemed neither surprised attheir coming nor curious. They gathered that in former days wagons hadwound through these forest ways gathering the handiwork of the people, but that they came no more. To Tom it seemed a pathetic thing thatKaiser Bill should reach out his bloody hand and blight the peacefuloccupation of this quaint little old man of the forest. Perhaps he woulddie, far away there in his tree-embowered cottage, before the wagonsever came again, and the overflowing basket would rot away and thewindmills blow themselves to pieces. . . . 

CHAPTER XXVI

MAGIC

Leaving the home of the Swiss toymaker, who had shared his simple farewith them, they started southward through the deep wilderness. 

Tom's idea was to keep well within the forest, but within access to itswestern edge, so that they might scan the country across the river atintervals. They were so refreshed and encouraged as they tramped throughthe deep, unpeopled wilderness which they knew must bring them to theborder, and so eager to bring their long journey to an end, that theykept on for a while in the darkness until, to their great surprise, theycame upon a sheet of water the bank of which extended as far east andwest as they could see. Tom fancied he could just distinguish the darktrees outlined on the opposite shore. 

"Let's follow the shore a ways and see if we can get round it, " he said. 

But a tramp along the edge, first east, then west, brought no generalturn in the shore-line and they began to wonder if the Schwarzwaldcould be bisected by some majestic river. 

"I don't think a river so high up would be so wide, " Tom said. "If I wassure about that being the other shore over there, we could swim across. "

"It would be betterr to get around if we could, " said Archer, "becauseif we'rre goin' wherre people arre we don't want our uniforms allsoaked. "

"I'm not going to try to find _her_, if that's what you mean, " said Tom;"not unless you say so too, anyway. "

"What d'you s'pose I dived forr that glass forr?" Archer retorted. "We're goin' to find that girrl--or perish in the attempt--like oldWhat's-his-name. You've got the right idea, Slady. "

"It ain't an idea, " said Tom soberly, "and if you think it's--kindof--that I--that I--like her----"

"Surre it ain't, it's 'cause you hate herr, " said Archer readily. 

"You make me tired, " said Tom, flushing. 

Since they had to sleep somewhere, they decided to bivouac on the shoreof this water and take their bearings in the morning. As the night waswarm, they took off their coats and hanging them to a spreading branchabove them they sprawled upon the cushiony ground, abandoning for oncetheir rule of continuous watch, and were soon fast asleep. You do notneed any sleeping powders in the Black Forest, for the soft magic of itsresiny air will lull you to repose. 

When they awakened in the morning they squirmed with complicatedgymnastic yawns, and lay gazing in lazy half slumber into the branchesabove them. Suddenly Archer jumped to his feet. 

"Wherre arre ourr coats?" he cried. 

Tom sat up, rubbed his eyes and gazed about. There were no coats to beseen. 

"What d'you know about that?" said Archer. "Maybe they blew away, " headded, looking about. 

"There hasn't been any wind, " said Tom. "Look at that handkerchief. "Near him lay a handkerchief which Archer remembered spreading on theground beside him the night before. 

"Well--I'll--be--jiggered, " he exclaimed, looking about again in dismay. "Somebody's been herre, " he added conclusively. 

Tom fell to scrutinizing the ground for footprints, but there was nosign of any and he too gazed about him in bewilderment. 

"They didn't walk away, that's sure, " he said, "and they didn't blowaway either. There wasn't even a breeze. "

A thorough search of the immediate locality confirmed their feeling ofcertainty that the coats had not blown away. Indeed, they could not haveblown far even if there had been any wind, for the closeness of thetrees to one another would have prevented this. Tom gazed about, thenlooked at his companion, utterly dumfounded. 

"Maybe they blew into the waterr, " Archer suggested. But Tom only shookhis head and pointed to the light handkerchief upon the ground. A merebreath would have carried that away. 

They could only stand and stare at each other. Some one had evidentlytaken their coats away in the night. 

"It's Gerrman efficiency, that's what it is, " said Archer. 

"Why didn't they take us, too?" Tom asked. 

"They'll be along forr us pretty soon, " Archer reassured him. "They'rresuperrmen--that's what they arre. --Maybe it's some kind of strategy, hey? They can do spooky things, those Huns. They've got magic uniforms. "

"I don't see any reason for it, " said sober Tom, still looking about, unable to conquer his amazement. 

"That's just it, " said Archer. "They do things therre ain't any reasonforr just to practice theirr efficiency. Pretty soon you'll see all theallied soldierrs'll be losing their coats. Go-o-o-o-d _night_!"

"Well, I can't find any footprints, that's sure, " said Tom, ratherchagrined. "I usually can. "

"Maybe it was some sort of an airship, " Archer suggested. 

Whatever the explanation of this extraordinary thing, the coats weregone. There were no footprints, and there had been no wind. And themysterious affair left the boys aghast. 

"One thing sure--we'd better get away from here quick, " said Tom. 

"You said it! Ebeneezerr, but this place has got the Catskills and oldRip Van Winkle beat! Come on--quick!"

Tom was not sure that one side of the water was any safer than the otherin this emergency, and he was almost too nonplussed to do anything, butsurely they were in danger, he felt, and would better be upon their waywithout the loss of a minute. What troubled him not a little also wasthat the precious spy-glass and the compass were with the missing coats. 

They could see now that the water was a long, narrow lake the ends ofwhich were just discernible from the midway position along the shorewhere they stood, and the opposite shore was perhaps a mile distant. 

"Are you game to swim it?" Archer asked. 

They felt that this would be easier than the long tramp around and thatthey would have the advantage while swimming of an extended view andwould avoid any danger which might lurk behind the trees. 

They had almost reached the opposite shore when Archer sputtered andcalled out to Tom: "Look, look!"

Tom looked and saw, hanging from a branch on the shore they werenearing, the two missing field gray uniform coats. 

This was too much. Speechless with amazement they clambered ashore andwalked half fearfully up to their fugitive garments. There was no doubtabout it, there were the two coats dangling from a low hanging branch, perfectly dry and in the pockets the spy-glass and the trusty compass. The two boys stared blankly at each other. 

"Well--what--do--you--know--about--that?" said Archer. 

"They didn't steal anything, anyway, " said Tom, half under his breath. 

Archer stared at the coats, then peered cautiously about among thetrees. Then he faced Tom again, who returned his stare in muteastonishment. 

"You don't s'pose we could have swum across in ourr sleep, do you?" saidArcher. 

Tom shook his head thoughtfully. Could it be that those Huns, thosefiends of the air and the ocean depths, those demons who could shoot agun for seventy miles and rear their yellow heads suddenly up out of thegreen waters close to the American shore--could it be that they wereindeed genii--ghouls of evil, who played fast and loose with poorwanderers in the forest until the moment came for crushing them utterly?

Or could it be that this black wilderness, perched upon its mountainchain, was indeed the magic toyland of all creation, the home of SantaClaus and----

"Come on, " said Archer, "let's not stand herre. B'lieve _me_, I want toget as far away from this place as we can!"

CHAPTER XXVII

NONNENMATTWEIHER

But the worst was yet to come. They hurried now, for whatever the causeof this extraordinary incident, they wished to get away from it, andhaving crossed the lake they paused not to dry their garments butcontinued southward following the almost obliterated wagon tracks whichran from the shore. 

"I wonder how the wagons got across?" said Tom. 

"Wings, " said Archer solemnly, shaking his head. 

In a little while they came to the toymaker's cottage, with themechanical cuckoo and the windmills and the basket of soldiers andanimals and the old Swiss toymaker himself, sitting like a big toy, inthe doorway. 

"Well--I'll--be----" began Archer. 

Tom simply gaped, too perplexed to speak. He had believed that he wassomething of a woodsman, and he certainly believed that he would not gonorth supposing that he was going south! Could there be another Swisstoymaker, and another cottage and another squawking cuckoo, exactly likethe others? Were they all alike, the lonesome denizens of this spookyplace, like the wooden inhabitants of a Noah's ark?

"This Hun forest has got Aladdin's cave beat twenty ways, " said Archer. "Either we'rre crazy or this place is. "

Suddenly the bright thought occurred to Tom to look at his compass. Unless the magnetic pole had changed its position, and the whole earthgone askew, they were tramping northward, as he saw to his unutterableamazement. 

"Did we swim across the lake or didn't we?" he demanded of Archer, roused out of his wonted stolidness. 

"Surre, we did!"

"Then I give it up, " said Tom resignedly. "The compass says north--we'regoing north. This is the very same toymaker. "

"Go-o-od _night_!" said Archer, with even more than his usual vehemence. "Maybe the Gerrmans have conquerred the Norrth Pole and taken all thesteel to make mountains, just like they knocked international law allendways, hey? That's why the compass don't point right. G-o-o-o-o-od_night_!"

This ingenious theory, involving a rather large piece of strategy evenfor "supermen, " did not appeal to Tom's sober mind. 

"That's what it is, " said Archer. "You've got to admit that if theycould send Zeps and submarines and things to the North Pole and cop allthe steel, the British navy, and ourrs too, would be floppin' around theocean like a chicken with its head cut off. --It's a good idea!"

Tom went up to the old toymaker, who greeted them with a smile, seemingno more surprised to see them than he had been the day before. 

"North--_north_?" asked Tom, pointing. 

"Nort--yah, " said the old man, pointing too. 

"Water, " said Tom; "swim--_swim_ across" (he pointed southward and madethe motions of swimming). The old man nodded as if he understood. 

"Ach--vauder, yach, --Nonnenmattweiher. "

"What?" said Tom. 

"_What_?" said Archer. 

"Nonnenmattweiher, " said the old man. "Yah. "

"He wants to know what's the matter with you, " said Archer. 

"Water, " Tom repeated, almost in desperation. 

"Swim (he went through the motions): Swim across water to south--startsouth, go north. " He made no attempt to convey the incident of thevanishing coats. 

"Water--yah, --Nonnenmattweiher, " the man repeated. 

At last, by dint of repeating words and swinging their arms and goingthrough a variety of extraordinary motions, the boys succeeded inconveying to the little man that something was wrong in the neighborhoodof the lake, and he appeared willing enough to go back with them, trotting along beside Tom in his funny belted blouse, for all the worldlike a mechanical toy. Tom had his misgivings as to whether they wouldreally reach the lake no matter which way they went, but they did reachit, and standing under the tree where they had recovered their vanishedcoats they tried to explain to the old man what had happened--that theyhad crossed from the north to the south bank and continued southward, only to find that they were going north!

Suddenly a new light illumined the little man's countenance and hechuckled audibly. Then he pointed across the lake, chattering andchuckling the while, and went through a series of strange motions, spreading his legs farther and farther apart, pointing to the groundbetween them, and concluded this exhibition with a sweeping motion ofhis hands as if bidding some invisible presence of that enchanted placeGod-speed across the water. 

"Och--goo, " he said, and shook his head and laughed. 

"I know what he means, " said Tom at last, with undisguised chagrin, "andI'm a punk scout. I didn't notice anything at all. Come on. We've got toswim across again--that's south, all right. "

"What is it?" asked Archer. 

"I'll show you when we get there--come on. "

The little Swiss toymaker stood watching them and laughing with aspasmodic laugh which he might have caught from his own wooden cuckoo. When they reached the other shore Tom fell at once to examining a veryperceptible rift in the earth a few feet from the shore. 

"Do you see?" he said, "we floated over on this piece of land. The treewhere we hung our coats was on the _real_ shore, and----"

"Go-od night, and it missed the boat, " concluded Archer. 

"This tree here is something like it, " said Tom, "and that's where Imade my mistake. I ought to have noticed the trees and I ought to havenoticed the crack. Gee, if my scout patrol ever heard of that!'Specially Roy Blakeley, " he added, shaking his head dubiously. 

It was indeed something of a "bull" in scouting, though perhaps a moreexperienced forester than Tom would have become as confused as he in thesame circumstances. Perhaps if he had been as companionable with hisschool geography as Archer had been with his he might have known aboutthe famous Lake Nonnenmattweiher in the silent depths of the Schwarzwaldand of its world-famed floating island, which makes its nocturnalcruises from shore to shore, a silent, restless voyager on that blackpine-embowered lake. 

As the boys looked back across the water they could see the little Swisstoymaker still standing upon the shore, and looking at him through therescued glass (of which they were soon to make better use), Tom couldsee that his odd little figure was shaking with merriment--as if he werewound up. 

CHAPTER XXVIII

AN INVESTMENT

Often, in the grim, bloody days to come, they thought of the littleSwiss toymaker up there among his windmills and Noah's arks, and of hislaugh at their expense. A merry little gnome he was, the very spirit ofthe Black Forest. 

Their last sight of him marked almost the end of their wanderings. Foranother day's tramping through the solemn depths brought them to alittle community, a tiny forest village, made up of just such cottagesand people, and they made a detour to avoid it, only to run plunk intoanother miniature industrial centre which they also "side-stepped, "though indeed the iron fist seemed not to be very tightly closed uponthese primitive knights of the jack-knife and chisel; and they saw nodreaded sign of authority. 

Still they did not wish to be reckless and when they sought food andshelter it was at a sequestered cottage several miles from the nearesthabitation. Here Tom showed his button but the old man (they saw noyoung men) seemed not to know what it meant, although he gave them food, apparently believing them to be German soldiers. 

Tom believed that they must have journeyed fifty or sixty milessouthward, verging away from the river so as to keep within the depthsof the forest, and he realized that the time had come for them toconsider just what course they were going to pursue. 

"If we're going to try to find her, " he said rather hesitatingly, "weought to hit it west so's we can take a pike across the river. But if wekeep straight south we'll strike the river after it bends, if that oldweaver knew what he was talking about, and when we cross it we'll be inSwitzerland. We'll do whatever you say. Going straight south would beeasier and safer, " he added, with his usual blunt honesty; "and if wecross back into Alsace we'll have to go past houses and people and we'llbe taking chances. --I admit it's like things in a book--I mean rescuinggirls, " he said, with his characteristic awkward frankness, "and maybesome people would say it was crazy, kind of----" What he meant was_romantic_, but he didn't exactly know how to say that. "As long aswe've been lucky so far maybe we ought to get across the frontier andover to France as quick as we can. I s'pose that's where webelong--most of all----"

"Is that what you think?" said Archer. 

"I ain't sayin' what I think, but----"

"Well, then, I'll say what _I_ think, " retorted Archer. "You're alwaystelling about thoughts you've had. I don't claim I'm as good as you arreat having thoughts, but if therre's a soldierr wounded they send two orthree soldierrs to carry the stretcherr, don't they? Maybe thosesoldierrs ought to be fighting, but saving a person comes firrst. You'vehearrd about giving all you have to the Red Cross. All _we_ got is the_chance_ to get away. We've got morre chance than we had when westarrted, 'cause you'rre a good scout----"

"I don't claim----"

"Shut up, " said Archer; "so it's like saving up ourr chances and addingto 'em, till now we're 'most in Switzerland and we got a good big chancesaved up. I'll tell you what I'm going to do with mine--I'm going togive it to the Red Cross--_kind of_--as you'd say. If that girrl isworrkin' on that road and I can find herr, I'm goin' to. If I getpinched, all right. So it ain't a question of what _we'rre_ goin' to do;it's a question of: Are _you_ with me? You're always tellin' when yourrthoughts come to you. Well, I got that one just before I dived for theglass. So that's the way I'm going to invest _my_ chance, 'cause Ihaven't got anything else to give. . . . I heard in prison about theLiberty Bond buttons they give you to wearr back home. I'd like to haveone of those blamed things to wearr for a souveneerr. "

Tom Slade had stood silent throughout this harangue, and now he laugheda little awkwardly. "It's better than investing money, " he said, "andwhat I'm laughing at--kind of, " he added with infinite relief andsatisfaction showing through the emotion he was trying to repress; "whatI'm laughing at is how you're always thinking about souvenirs. "

 * * * * *

So it was decided that their little joint store, their savings, as onemight say--their standing capital of _chance_ which they had improvedand added to--should be invested in the hazardous business of rescuing adaughter of France from her German captors. It was _giving_ with avengeance. 

It is a pity that there was no button to signalize this kind of acontribution. 

CHAPTER XXIX

CAMOUFLAGE

They turned westward now in a direction which Tom thought would bringthem about opposite the Alsatian town of Norne. A day's journey tookthem out of the forest proper into a rocky region of sparse vegetationfrom which they could see the river winding ribbonlike in the distance. Beyond it in the flat Alsatian country lay a considerable city which, from what old Melotte had told them, they believed to be Mulhausen. 

"Norne is a little to the south of that and closer to the river, " saidTom. 

They picked their way along the edge of the palisades, concealingthemselves among the rocks, and as they thus worked to the southward theprecipitous heights and the river converged until they were almostdirectly above the water. At last, looking down, they saw upon thenarrow strip of shore directly below them the old castle of whichMelotte had told them. There was no other in sight. From their dizzyperch among the concealing rocks they could see almost the whole widthof southern Alsace in panorama, as one sees New York from the Palisadesof the Hudson, and in the distance the dim outlines of the Vosgesmountains, beyond which lay France. 

Not far from the river on the Alsatian side and (as old Melotte hadsaid) directly opposite the castle, was a small town which Tom studiedcarefully with the glass. 

"That's it, " he said, relieved, for both of them had harbored alingering fear that these places existed only in the childish mind ofthe blue-eyed old weaver. "Melotte was right, " he added. "Wait aminute--I'll let you look. You can see the new road and people workingon it and--wait a minute--I can see a little flag on one house. "

There was no doubt about it. There was the town of Norne, and just westof it a road with tiny figures distributed along it. 

Archer was all a-quiver as he took the glass. "I can see the house, " hesaid; "it's right near the road, it's got a flag on it. When the lightstrikes it you can see the black spot. Oh, look, look!"

"I can't look when you've got the glass, " said Tom in his dull way. 

"I can see the battleline!" cried Archer. 

Tom took the glass with unusual excitement. Far across the Alsatiancountry, north and south, ran a dim, gray line, seeming to have no moresubstance than a rainbow or the dust in a sun-ray. Far to the north itbent westward and he knew its course lay through the mountains. Butshort of those blue heights it seemed to peter out in a sort of graymist. And that was all that could be seen of that seething, bloody linewhere the destinies of mankind were being contended for. 

It was easy for the boys to imagine that the specks they could see weresoldiers, American soldiers perhaps, and that low-hung clouds were thesmoke of thundering artillery. . . . 

"I wonder if we'll ever get over there, " said Archer. 

"Over there, " Tom repeated abstractedly. 

 * * * * *

Their program now must be one of stealth, not boldness, and they did notwish to be seen scrambling down the heights in broad daylight; so theywaited for the night, regaling themselves out of the "furious profusion"of grapes of which there seemed enough to make an ocean of Rhenish wine. 

It was dark when they reached the river bank and explored the shore forsome means of getting across. At last they discovered a float withseveral boats attached to it and a ramshackle structure hard by withinwhich was a light and the familiar sound of a baby crying. 

"We've got to make up our minds not to be scared, " said Tom, "and wemustn't _look_ as if we were scared. You can't make believe you're notscared if you are. Let's try to make ourselves think we're really Germansoldiers and then other people will think so. We've got to act just like'em. "

"If you mean we've got to murrderr that baby, " said Archer; "no sirree!Not for mine!"

"That _ain't_ what I mean, " said Tom. "You know Jeb Rushmore at TempleCamp? He came from Arizona. He says you can always tell a fake cowboy nomatter how he may be dressed up because he don't _feel_ like the West. It ain't just the uniforms that do it; it's the way we _act_. "

"I get you, " said Archer. 

"I wouldn't do the things they do any more than I have to, " Tom said;"and I don't know exactly how they feel----"

"They don't feel at all, " interrupted Archer. 

"But if we act as if we didn't care and ain't afraid, we stand achance. "

"We've got to act as if we owned the earrth, " Archer agreed. 

"Except if we should meet an officer, " Tom concluded. 

In his crude way Tom had stumbled upon a great truth, which is the onechief consideration in the matter of successful disguise. _You must feelyour part if you would act it_. As he had said, they did not know howGerman soldiers felt (no civilized mortal knows that!), but he knew thatthe Germans were plentiful hereabouts and no novelty, and that theironly hope of simulating two of them lay in banishing all timidity andputting on a bold front. 

"One thing, we've got to keep our mouths shut, " he said. "Most peoplewon't bother us but we've got to look out for officers. I'm going totear my shirt and make a sling for my arm and you've got to limp--andkeep your mind on it. When you're faking, you limp with yourbrain--remember. "

The first test of their policy was successful beyond their fondestdreams, though their parts were not altogether agreeable to them. Theymarched down to the float, unfastened one of the boats with a good dealof accompanying noise and started out into the river, just as KaiserBill had started across Belgium. A woman with a baby in her armsappeared in the doorway and stared at them--then banged the door shut. 

They were greatly elated at their success and considered the taking ofthe boat as a war measure, as probably the poor German woman did too. 

Once upon the other side they walked boldly into the considerable townof Norne and over the first paved streets which they had seen in many aday. They did not get out of the way of people at all; they let thepeople scurry out of _their_ way and were very bold and high and mightyand unmannerly, and truly German in all the nice little particularswhich make the German such an unspeakable beast. 

Tom forgot all about the good old scout rule to do a good turn every dayand camouflaged his manners by doing a bad turn every minute--or asnearly that as possible. It was good camouflage, and got them safelythrough the streets of Norne, where they must do considerable hunting tofind the home of old Melotte's friend Blondel. They finally located iton the outskirts of the town and recognized it by the billet flag whichMelotte had described to them. 

CHAPTER XXX

THE SPIRIT OF FRANCE

It was the success of their policy of boldness, together with somethingwhich Madame Blondel told him, which prompted Tom to undertake theimpudent and daring enterprise which was later to make him famous on thewestern front. 

Blondel himself, notwithstanding his sixty-five years, had been pressedinto military service, but Madame Blondel remained in the little houseon the edge of the town in calm disregard of the German officers who hadturned her little home into a headquarters while the new road was beingmade. For this, of course, was being done under the grim eye of theMilitary. 

The havoc wrought by these little despots, minions of the great despot, in the simple abode of the poor old French couple, was eloquent of thewhole Prussian system. 

The officer whose heroic duty it was to oversee the women and girlsslaving with pick and shovel had turned the little abode out ofwindows, to make it comfortable for himself and his guests, treating thefurniture and all the little household gods with the same disdainfulbrutality that his masters had shown for Louvain Cathedral. The Germaninstinct is always the same, whether it be on a small or a largescale--whether kicking furniture or blowing up hospitals. 

Amid the ruins of her tidy little home, Madame Blondel lingered inundaunted proprietorship--the very spirit of gallant, indomitableFrance!

Perhaps, too, the bold entrance into these tyrant-ridden premises of thetwo American boys under the forbidding flag of Teuton authority, hadsomething in it of the spirit of America. At least so Madame Blondelseemed to regard it; and when Tom showed her his little button she threwher arms around him, extending the area of her assault to Archer aswell. 

"_Vive l'Amerique!_" she cried, with a fine look of defiance in hersnapping eyes. 

She took the boys upstairs to a room--the only one, apparently, whichshe could call her own--and here they told her their story. 

It appeared that for many years she had lived in America, where herhusband had worked in a silk mill and she had kept a little road-house, tempting American autoists with French cooking and wine of Burgundy. She spoke English very well, save for a few charming little slips andnotwithstanding that she was short and stout and wore spectacles, shewas overflowing with the spirit of her beloved country, and with aweakness for adventure and romance which took Tom and Archer by storm. Atrue Frenchwoman indeed, defying with a noble heroism Time andCircumstance and vulgar trespasses under her very roof. 

"So you will rescue Mam'selle, " she said clasping her hands and pressingthem to her breast with an inspiring look in her eyes. "So! This isAmerica--how you say--in a nutshell. Yess?"

"It seems to me you're France in a nutshell, " said Tom awkwardly, "anddownstairs it's Germany in a nutshell. "

"Ah-h-h!" She gave a fine shrug of disgust; "_he_ have gone to Berlin. Tomorrow night late, his comrade will come--tomorrow night. So you aresafe. And you are ze true knight--so! You will r-rescue Mam'selle, " andshe placed her two hands on Tom's shoulders, looking at him withdelight, and ended by embracing him. 

She seemed more interested in his rescuing "Mam'selle" than in anythingelse and that apparently because it was a bold adventure in gallantry. A true Frenchwoman indeed. 

"She'd make a bully scoutmaster, " Tom whispered to Archer. 

"They might as well try to capturre the moon as put France out ofbusiness, " said Archer. 

Yes, big or little, man or woman, one or a million, in devastated homeor devastated country, she is always the same, gallant, spirited, defiant. _Vive la France!_

While Madame Blondel plied them with food she told them the story of thenew road--another shameless item in the wake of German criminality anddishonor. 

"They will wait to see if Amerique can send her troops. They will trustzese submarines--so long. No more! All the while they make zisroad--ozzer roads. Zere will be ze tramping of zese _beasts_ over zeseroads to little Switzerland yet!" she said, falling into the Frenchmanner in her anger. "So zey will stab her in ze back! Ug-g-g-gh!"

"Do you think that Florette and her mother are both there?" Tom asked. 

"Ah, " she said slyly; "you wish not that her mother should be there? Soyou will be ze true knight! Ah, you are a bad boy!"

To Tom's embarrassment she embraced him again, by way of showing thatshe was not altogether averse to bad boys. 

"That ain't the way it is at all, " he said flashing awkwardly. "I wantto save 'em both. That's the only thing I'm thinking about. "

"Ah, " she laughed slyly, to Archer's delight. "You are a bad boy! Iss henot a bad boy? Yess?" She turned upon Archer. "Sixty years old I am, butstill would I have so much happiness to be ze boy. See! Blondel and I, we run away to our marriage so many years ago. No one can catch us. So!Ziss is ze way--yess? Am I right?" She pointed her finger at poor Tom. "Ah, you are ze true knight! Even yet, maybe, you will fight zeduel--so! Listen! I will tell you how you will trrick ze Prussians. "

This was getting down to business and much to Tom's relief though Archerhad enjoyed the little scene hugely. 

"See, " she said more soberly. "I will tell you. Every young mam'sellemust work--all are there. From north and south have they brought them. All! But not our older women. Like soldiers they must obey. Here to thisvery house come those that rebel--arrest! Some are sent back with--whatyou say? Reprimand. Some to prison. I cannot speak. My owncountrywomen! Ug-gh! Zese wretches!"

"So now I shall see if you are true Americans. " She looked straight atTom, and even her homely spectacles did not detract from the fire thatburned in her eyes. Here was a woman, who if she had but been a man, could have done anything. "I shall give you ze paper--all print. Zewarrant. You see?" She paused, throwing her head back with such a fineair of defiance that even her wrinkled face and homely domestic garbcould not dim its glory. "_You shall arrest Mam'selle!_ Here you shallbring her. See--listen! You know what our great Napoleon say? 'Across zeAlps lies Italee. ' So shall you arrest Mam'selle!" She put her arm onTom's shoulder and looked into his eyes with a kind of inspiring frenzy. "Close, so very close, " she whispered significantly, "_across ze Rhinelies Switzerland_!"

CHAPTER XXXI

THE END OF THE TRAIL

Not in all the far-flung battleline was there a more pitiable sight thanthe bright sun beheld as he poured his stifling rays down upon thewinding line of upturned earth which lay in fresh piles across thecountry of southern Alsace. 

Almost to the Swiss border it ran, but no one could get across the Swissborder here without running into Prussian bayonets. To the east, wherethe Rhine flowed and where the mountains were, some reckless soul mightmanage it in a night's journeying, if he would brave the lonesomefastnesses; though even there the meshes of forbidding wire, chargedwith a death-giving voltage, stretched across the path. It was not aninviting route. 

[Illustration: "DON'T LOOK SURPRISED, " TOM SAID IN AN UNDERTONE. Page198]

You may believe it or not, as you please, but along this new road scoreupon score of young women and mere girls toiled and slaved with pickaxeand shovel. And some fell and were lifted up again, with threats andimprecations, and toiled on. There were some who came from Belgium, whose hands had been cut off, and these were harnessed and drew stones. They lived, if you call it living, in tents and wooden barracks alongthe line of work, and in these they spent their few hours of respite infearful, restless slumber. 

Over them, like a black and threatening cloud, was the clenched, blood-wet iron fist. Now and then one broke down in hysterics and was"arrested" and taken before the commander who sprawled and drank wine ina peasant cottage nearby. For the road must be made and Germanmilitarism tolerates no nonsense. . . . 

Across the fields toward this road passed a young fellow in the uniformof a petty officer. He carried in his hand a paper and a pair ofhandcuffs. He was repeating to himself a phrase in the German languagein which he had just been carefully drilled. "Wo ist sie?"

It was all the German that he knew. 

Approaching the road, he passed along among the workers, who glanced upat him covertly and plied their implements a little harder for hispresence. Coming upon a soldier who was marching back and forth onguard, the officer showed him the paper and said, "_Wo ist sie?_" Theguard pointed farther down the line at another soldier, whom theofficer approached and addressed with his one, newly-learned question. The second soldier scanned the workers under his charge, then made as ifto take the paper and the handcuffs, but the officer held them from himwith true German arrogance, intimating that all he wished was to havethe worker identified and he would do the rest. He did not deign tospeak to the soldier. 

When the subject of his quest had been pointed out to him he strode overto her, with a motion of his hand bidding the soldier remain at hispost. The girls, who were working ankle-deep in the thick earth, fellback as this grim embodiment of authority passed and stole fearfulglances at him as he laid his hand upon the shoulder of one of theirnumber who was throwing stones out of the roadway. She was a slendergirl, almost too delicate for housework, one would have said, and herface bore an expression of utter listlessness--the listlessness thatcomes from long fatigue and lost hope. Her eyes had the startled, terror-stricken look of a frightened animal as she looked up into theface of the young officer. 

"Don't speak and don't look surprised, " he said in an undertone, as hesnapped the handcuffs on her wrists. "I'm Tom Slade--don't youremember? You have to come with me and we'll take you across the Swissborder tonight. It's all planned. Don't talk and don't be scared. Answerlow--Is your mother here?"

A heavy stone that she was holding fell and he could feel her shouldertrembling under his hand. She looked at him in doubtful recognition, forthe face was grim and cold and there was a look of hard steel in theeyes. Then she glanced in terror at one of the soldiers who was marchingback and forth, rifle in hand. 

"He won't interfere--he won't even dare to salute me. If he comes nearI'll knock him down. Is your mother here?"

"She iss wiz ze friends in Leteur. Her zey do not take. "

Her voice was low and full of a terror which she seemed unable toovercome and as she looked fearfully about Tom was reminded of the nightwhen they had talked together alone in the arbor. 

"They didn't catch me yet and they won't, " he said. "They're not scouts. Come on. "

She followed him out of the upturned earth and down the line, where hestrode like a lord of creation. Never so much as a glance did he deignto give a soldier. A few of the young women who dared to look upwatched the two as they cut across a field and, whispering, some saidher lot would be worse than she suspected--that her arrest was only aruse. . . . They came nearer to the truth in that than they knew. 

Others spoke enviously, saying that, whatever befell her, at least shewould have a little rest. The more bold among them continued to stealcovert glances as the two went across the field, and fell to work againwith a better submission, noticing the overbearing demeanor of thebrutal young officer who had arrested their companion. 

"You are come again, " she finally said timidly; "like ze good genii. " Itwas difficult for her to speak, but Tom was willing for her to cry andseem agitated, for they were coming to houses now, where crippledsoldiers sat about and children scurried, frightened, out of their pathand called their mothers who came out to stare. 

"My father--I may not yet talk----"

"Yes, you can talk now. I know all about it. "

"Everything you know--you are wonderful. He told us how ze zheneral, hesay, '_Lafayette, we are here!_' And now you are here----"

"I told you you could sing the _Marseillaise_ again, " he said simply. "When we get over there, you can. "

"You have come before zem, even, " she said, her voice breaking withemotion. "I cannot speak, you see, but some day ze Americans, zey willbe here, and you are here ze first----"

"Don't try to talk, " he said huskily. "Over in America we have girlscouts--kind of. They call 'em Camp Fire Girls. Some people make fun of'em, but they can climb and they don't scream when they get in a boat, and they ain't afraid of the woods, and they don't care if it rains, andthey ain't a-scared of noises, and all like that. You got to be one ofthem tonight. You got to be just like a feller--kind of. Even if you'retired you got to stick it out--just like France is doing. "

"I am ze daughter of France, " she said proudly, catching his meaning, "and you have come like America. Before, in Leteur, I was afraid. Nomore am I afraid. I will be ziss fiery camp girl--so!"

"Not fiery camp girl, " said Tom dully; "Camp Fire Girl. "

"So! I will be zat!"

"And tomorrow we'll be in Switzerland. And soon as we get across I'mgoing to make you sing the _Marseillaise_, so's when I get toFrenchy--Armand--I can tell him you sang it and nobody stopped you. Youremember the other feller that was with me. He says we're going to takeyou to Armand as a souvenir. That's what he's always talkingabout--souvenirs. "

 * * * * *

It did not occupy much space in the American newspapers for there weremore important things to relate. The English were circling around someridge or other; the French were straightening out a salient, and theGermans had failed to surprise the Americans near Arracourt. TheAmerican airmen got the credit for that. 

So there was only a brief account. "Two American Ship's Boys ReachFrance, " heading said, and then followed this summary narrative as sentout by the Associated Press:

"Two American boys are reported to have reached General Pershing'sforces in France, having escaped from a German prison camp and passedthe Swiss frontier at an unfrequented spot after picking their waythrough the wilder section of the Black Forest in Baden. They subsistedchiefly on roots and grapes. Both are said to have been in the U. S. Transport Service. A despatch from Basel says that the Red Crossauthorities are caring for a French Alsatian girl whom the fugitivesrescued from German servitude by impersonating German militaryauthorities. The details of their exploit are not given in thedespatches. 

"The American Y. M. C. A. At Nancy has no knowledge of such a girl beingbrought across the border and doubts the truth of this story, sayingthat such a rescue would be quite impossible. Another account says thatthe two boys upon reaching the American troops, notified a brother ofthe girl who was training with the expeditionary forces and that thisbrother was given a furlough to visit Molin, just below the Swissfrontier, where the girl was being cared for. This soldier's name isgiven as Armand Leteur. He is reported to have found his sister in astate of utter collapse from the treatment she had received whiletoiling on the roads in Alsace. One report has it that her wrist hadbeen branded by a hot iron. The two youngsters are said to have chosenan unfrequented spot where the frontier crosses the mountains and tohave manipulated the electrified barbed wire with a pair of rubbergloves which they had found in the wreck of a fallen German airship. Thecorrespondent of the London _Times_ says that one of these gloves hasbeen sent to President Wilson by its proud possessor as a souvenir. 

"Washington, Oct. 12. --Administration officials here have no knowledgeof any rubber glove being received by President Wilson but say that thearrival of two boys, fugitives from Germany, has been officiallyreported by the military authorities in France and that they broughtwith them a letter taken from a dead German soldier which containedreferences to the impending German assault near Arracourt, thus enablingour men to anticipate and confound the Hun plans. Both of the boys, whose names are given as Archibald Slade and Thomas Archer, are now intraining behind the American lines. A _Thomas_ Slade is reported to havebeen in the steward's department of the Transport _Montauk_ which wasstruck by a submarine last spring. 

"Reuter's Agency confirms the story of the rescue of the girl and of herreunion with her brother. "

THE END

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

THE TOM SLADE BOOKSBy PERCY KEESE FITZHUGHAuthor of the ROY BLAKELEY BOOKS

May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list. 

The Tom Slade books have the official endorsement and recommendation ofTHE BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA. In vivid story form they tell of Boy Scoutways, and how they help a fellow grow into a manhood of which Americamay be proud. 

TOM SLADE, BOY SCOUT

Tom Slade lived in Barrel Alley. The story of his thrilling Scoutexperiences, how he was gradually changed from the street gangster intoa First Class Scout, is told in almost as moving and stirring a way asthe same narrative related in motion pictures. 

TOM SLADE AT TEMPLE CAMP

The boys are at a summer camp in the Adirondack woods, and Tom entersheart and soul into the work of making possible to other boys theopportunities in woodcraft and adventure of which he himself has alreadyhad a taste. 

TOM SLADE ON THE RIVER

A carrier pigeon falls into the camp of the Bridgeboro Troop of BoyScouts. Attached to the bird's leg is a message which starts Tom and hisfriends on a search that culminates in a rescue and a surprisingdiscovery. The boys have great sport on the river, cruising in the"Honor Scout. "

TOM SLADE WITH THE COLORS _A WAR-TIME BOY SCOUT STORY_

When Uncle Sam "pitches in" to help the Allies in the Great War, Tom'sBoy Scout training makes it possible for him to show his patriotism in away which is of real service to his country. Tom has many experiencesthat any loyal American boy would enjoy going through--or reading about, as the next best thing. 

TOM SLADE ON A TRANSPORT

While working as a mess boy on one of Uncle Sam's big ships, Tom'scleverness enables him to be of service in locating a disloyal member ofthe crew. On his homeward voyage the ship is torpedoed and Tom is takenaboard a submarine and thence to Germany. He finally escapes andresolves to reach the American forces in France. 

TOM SLADE WITH THE BOYS OVER THERE

We follow Tom and his friend, Archer, on their flight from Germany, through many thrilling adventures, until they reach and join theAmerican Army in France. 

TOM SLADE, MOTORCYCLE DISPATCH BEARER

Tom is now a dispatch rider behind the lines and has some thrillingexperiences in delivering important messages to troop commanders inFrance. 

TOM SLADE WITH THE FLYING CORPS

At last Tom realizes his dream to scout and fight for Uncle Sam in theair, and has such experiences as only the world war could make possible. 

TOM SLADE AT BLACK LAKE

Tom has returned home and visits Temple Camp before the season opens. Hebuilds three cabins and has many adventures. 

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

THE ROY BLAKELEY BOOKSBy PERCY KEESE FITZHUGHAuthor of the TOM SLADE BOOKS

May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list

ROY BLAKELEY

In one of the books which Roy Blakeley and his patrol collect from akindly old gentleman, in a book-drive for the soldiers, Pee-wee Harrisdiscovers what he believes to be a sinister looking memorandum, and hebecomes convinced that the old gentleman is a genuine spy. But the laughis on Pee-wee, as usual, for the donor of the book turns out to be anauthor, and the suspicious memorandum is only a literary mark. Theauthor, however, is so pleased with the boys' patriotism and amused atPee-wee's zeal, that he loans them his houseboat, in which they make thetrip up the Hudson to their beloved Temple Camp, which every boy who hasread the TOM SLADE BOOKS will be glad to see once more. 

ROY BLAKELEY'S ADVENTURES IN CAMP

Roy Blakeley and his patrol are found in this book once more happilyestablished in camp. A rivalry between the Silver Foxes and the otherpatrols springs up in the quest for Spruce and Black Walnut for whichthe government is in need. Roy and his friends incur the wrath of a landowner, but the doughty Pee-wee saves the situation and the wealthylandowner as well, when he guides him out of the deep forest where hehas lost himself. The boys wake up one morning to find Black Lakeflooded far over its banks, and the solving of this mystery furnishessome exciting reading. 

ROY BLAKELEY, PATHFINDER

Roy and his rusty comrades having come to Temple Camp by water, resolvethat they will make the journey home by foot. On the way they capture aleopard escaped from a circus, which exciting adventure brings about anamusing acquaintance with the strange people who belong to the travelingshow. The boys are instrumental in solving a deep mystery, and findingamong the show people one who has long been missing and for whom searchhas been made the country over. 

ROY BLAKELEY'S CAMP ON WHEELS

This is the story of the wild and roaming career of a ramshackle oldrailroad car which has been given ROY and his companions for a troopmeeting place. The boys who have spent a hard day cleaning and repairingthe car, fall asleep in it. In the darkness of the night, and by asingular error of the railroad people, the car is "taken up" by afreight train and instead of being left at a designated point severalmiles below, is carried westward, so that when the boys awake in themorning they find themselves in a country altogether strange and new. The story tells of the many and exciting adventures in this car as itjourneys from place to place. 

ROY BLAKELEY'S SILVER FOX PATROL

In the car which Roy Blakeley and his friends have for a meeting placeis discovered an old faded letter, dating from the Klondike gold days, and it appears to intimate the location of certain bags of gold, buriedby a train robber who had held up a train bringing passengers home fromthe Canadian Northwest. The quest for this treasure is made in anautomobile and the strange adventures on this trip constitute the story. 

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK

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THE EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW SERIES

May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list

BIRDS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW By Neltje Blanchan. Illustrated

EARTH AND SKY EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW By Julia Ellen Rogers. Illustrated

ESSAYS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW Edited by Hamilton W. Mabie

FAIRY TALES EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW Edited by Hamilton W. Mabie

FAMOUS STORIES EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW Edited by Hamilton W. Mabie

FOLK TALES EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW Edited by Hamilton W. Mabie

HEROES EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW Edited by Hamilton W. Mabie

HEROINES EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW Coedited by Hamilton W. Mabie and KateStephens

HYMNS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW Edited by Dolores Bacon

LEGENDS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW Edited by Hamilton W. Mabie

MYTHS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW Edited by Hamilton W. Mabie

OPERAS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW By Dolores Bacon. Illustrated

PICTURES EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW By Dolores Bacon. Illustrated

POEMS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW Edited by Mary E. Burt

PROSE EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW Edited by Mary E. Burt

SONGS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW Edited by Dolores Bacon

TREES EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW By Julia Ellen Rogers. Illustrated

WATER WONDERS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW By Jean M. Thompson. Illustrated

WILD ANIMALS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW By Julia Ellen Rogers. Illustrated

WILD FLOWERS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW By Frederic William Stack. Illustrated

Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York

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EVERY BOY'S LIBRARYBOY SCOUT EDITIONSIMILAR TO THIS VOLUME

The Boy Scouts of America in making up this Library, selected only suchbooks as had been proven by a nation-wide canvass to be most universallyin demand among the boys themselves. Originally published in moreexpensive editions only, they are now, under the direction of theScout's National Council, re-issued at a lower price so that all boysmay have the advantage of reading and owning them. It is the only seriesof books published under the control of this great organization, whosesole object is the welfare and happiness of the boy himself. For thefirst time in history a _guaranteed_ library is available, and at aprice so low as to be within the reach of all. 

ALONG THE MOHAWK TRAIL Percy K. Fitzhugh

ANIMAL HEROES ERNEST Thompson Seton

BABY ELTON, QUARTER-BACK Leslie W. Quirk

BARTLEY, FRESHMAN PITCHER William Heyliger

BE PREPARED, THE BOY SCOUTS IN FLORIDA A. W. Dimock

BEN-HUR Lew Wallace

BOAT-BUILDING AND BOATING Dan. Beard

THE BOY SCOUTS OF BLACK EAGLE PATROL Leslie W. Quirk

THE BOY SCOUTS OF BOB'S HILL Charles Pierce Burton

THE BOYS' BOOK OF NEW INVENTIONS Harry E. Maule

BUCCANEERS AND PIRATES OF OUR COASTS Frank R. Stockton

THE CALL OF THE WILD Jack London

CATTLE RANCH TO COLLEGE Russell Doubleday

COLLEGE YEARS Ralph D. Paine

CROOKED TRAILS Frederic Remington

THE CRUISE OF THE CACHALOT Frank T. Bullen

THE CRUISE OF THE DAZZLER Jack London

DANNY FISTS Walter Camp

FOR THE HONOR OF THE SCHOOL Ralph Henry Barbour

A GUNNER ABOARD THE "YANKEE" From the Diary of Number Five of the AfterPort Gun

THE HALF-BACK Ralph Henry Barbour

HANDBOOK FOR BOYS, Revised Edition Boy Scouts of America

HANDICRAFT FOR OUTDOOR BOYS Dan. Beard

THE HORSEMEN OF THE PLAINS Joseph A. Altsheler

JEB HUTTON; THE STORY OF A GEORGIA BOY James B. Connolly

THE JESTER OF ST. TIMOTHY'S Arthur Stanwood Pier

JIM DAVIS John Masefield

KIDNAPPED Robert Louis Stevenson

LAST OF THE CHIEFS Joseph A. Altsheler

LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN Zane Grey

THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS James Fenimore Cooper

A MIDSHIPMAN IN THE PACIFIC Cyrus Townsend Brady

PITCHING IN A PINCH Christy Mathewson

RANCHE ON THE OXHIDE Henry Inman

REDNEY MCGAW; A CIRCUS STORY FOR BOYS Arthur E. McFarlane

THE SCHOOL DAYS OF ELLIOTT GRAY, Jr. Colton Maynard

SCOUTING WITH DANIEL BOONE Everett T. Tomlinson

THREE YEARS BEHIND THE GUNS Lieu Tisdale

TOMMY REMINGTON'S BATTLE Burton E. Stevenson

TECUMSEH'S YOUNG BRAVES Everett T. Tomlinson

TOM STRONG, WASHINGTON'S SCOUT Alfred Bishop Mason

TO THE LAND OF THE CARIBOU Paul Greene Tomlinson

TREASURE ISLAND Robert Louis Stevenson

20, 000 LEAGUES UNDER THE SEA Jules Verne

UNGAVA BOB; A TALE OF THE FUR TRAPPERS Dillon Wallace

WELLS BROTHERS; THE YOUNG CATTLE KINGS Andy Adams

WILLIAMS OF WEST POINT Hugh S. Johnson

THE WIRELESS MAN; HIS WORK AND ADVENTURES Francis A. Collins

THE WOLF HUNTERS George Bird Grinnell

THE WRECKING MASTER Ralph D. Paine

YANKEE SHIPS AND YANKEE SAILORS James Barnes

GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK

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THE CHILDREN'S CRIMSON SERIES

May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list

The Editors; and What the Children's Crimson Series Offers Your Child

In the first place, "The Children's Crimson Series" is designed toplease and interest every child, by reason of the sheer fascination ofthe stories and poems contained therein. 

To accomplish such an end, a vast amount of patient labor, a rarejudgment, a life-long study of children, and a genuine love for all thatis best in literature, are essential factors of success. 

Kate Douglas Wiggin (Mrs. Riggs) and Nora Archibald Smith possess thesequalities and this experience. Their efforts, as pioneers ofkindergarten work, the love and admiration in which their works are heldby all young people, prove them to be in full sympathy with this uniquepiece of work. 

Let all parents, who wish their little ones to have their minds andtastes developed along the right paths, remember that once a child isinterested and amused, the rest is comparatively easy. Stories and poemsso admirably selected, cannot then but sow the seeds of a real literaryculture, which must be encouraged in childhood if it is ever to exercisea real influence in life. 

Edited by Kate Douglas Wiggin and Nora Archibald Smith

THE FAIRY RING: Fairy Tales for Children 4 to 8

MAGIC CASEMENTS: Fairy Tales for Children 6 to 12

TALES OF LAUGHTER: Fairy Tales for Growing Boys and Girls

TALES OF WONDER: Fairy Tales that Make One Wonder

PINAFORE PALACE: Rhymes and Jingles for Tiny Tots

THE POSY RING: Verses and Poems that Children Love and Learn

GOLDEN NUMBERS: Verses and Poems for Children and Grown-ups

THE TALKING BEASTS: Birds and Beasts in Fable Edited by Asa DonDickinson

CHRISTMAS STORIES: "Read Us a Story About Christmas" Edited by Mary E. Burt and W. T. Chapin

STORIES AND POEMS FROM KIPLING: "How the Camel Got His Hump, " and otherStories. 

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK

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THE TOM SWIFT SERIES By VICTOR APPLETON

UNIFORM STYLE OF BINDING. INDIVIDUAL COLORED WRAPPERS. 

These spirited tales, convey in a realistic way, the wonderful advancesin land and sea locomotion. Stories like these are impressed upon thememory and their reading is productive only of good. 

TOM SWIFT AND HIS MOTOR CYCLE

TOM SWIFT AND HIS MOTOR BOAT

TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIRSHIP

TOM SWIFT AND HIS SUBMARINE BOAT

TOM SWIFT AND HIS ELECTRIC RUNABOUT

TOM SWIFT AND HIS WIRELESS MESSAGE

TOM SWIFT AMONG THE DIAMOND MAKERS

TOM SWIFT IN THE CAVES OF ICE

TOM SWIFT AND HIS SKY RACER

TOM SWIFT AND HIS ELECTRIC RIFLE

TOM SWIFT IN THE CITY OF GOLD

TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIR GLIDER

TOM SWIFT IN CAPTIVITY

TOM SWIFT AND HIS WIZARD CAMERA

TOM SWIFT AND HIS GREAT SEARCHLIGHT

TOM SWIFT AND HIS GIANT CANNON

TOM SWIFT AND HIS PHOTO TELEPHONE

TOM SWIFT AND HIS AERIAL WARSHIP

TOM SWIFT AND HIS BIG TUNNEL

TOM SWIFT IN THE LAND OF WONDERS

TOM SWIFT AND HIS WAR TANK

TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIR SCOUT

TOM SWIFT AND HIS UNDERSEA SEARCH

TOM SWIFT AMONG THE FIRE FIGHTERS

TOM SWIFT AND HIS ELECTRIC LOCOMOTIVE

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK

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Transcriber's Notes

1. Punctuation has been normalized to contemporary standards. 2. Rolling r's are indicated by repeating the letter, for example from page 140 in the line: "We're herre because we're herre, " he said, in a perfect riot of rolling R's.