wrench. You can't wish off any strange wrench on this guy! I gotta
have me own wrench! If General Pershing is goin' to let youse kids go
stealin' wrenches, I'll--I'll--well, you'll _see_ what I'll do,
discipline ner no discipline!" He glared at the boys and at the
unoffending wrench.
Beany sadly allowed himself to wake up.
"I had your old wrench," he said, "and I guess I lost it. I will buy
you a new one if I can't find it."
"You find it!" said the man. "I don't want no new one! I know the feel
of me own tools, and no others need apply!"
He went off grumbling, and the boys, now wide awake, watched him.
"I told you how it would be," groaned Beany. "He'll never let up on me.
Wonder where I could have dropped it. In No-Man's-Land probably, where
it would be as easy to find as a needle in a haystack, and where we
can't go anyhow, now it's light. Look there! Oh praise be, I believe
he has found it himself!"
It was so. The man suddenly pounced on an object lying on the ground,
took it up, examined it with a tenderer care than would usually be
bestowed on a tool, and with a scornful look turned and waved it at the
watching boys. "Got it!" he called.
"Good!" said Beany affably.
"No thanks to you!" called the chauffeur. He stalked away.
"I would never let myself get so wrapped up in a little thing like
that," said Beany. He threw himself back on his bed.
"Don't do that," said Porky. "We are going to the General's tent at
seven, you know, to hear what the Fritz person is going to say for
himself. I bet he tells the truth anyhow. If the General fixes his
gimlet eye on him once, he will tell the truth, the whole truth, and
nothing but the truth."
"I would in his place," said Beany. "It wouldn't seem just healthy to
lie to the General." He commenced the simple process of dressing as
practiced by soldiers in the field. It consisted of very brief bathing
in a couple of teacups of water in a collapsible, and usually collapsing
washpan, made of canvas waterproofed, and after that the simple drawing
on of breeches, canvas puttees and shirt. A soldier sleeps in his
underwear, but sleeping in his outer garments is very strictly
forbidden, no matter how cold the weather may be.
The boys reached the General's tent at ten minutes to seven, and
although they knew that the great man had been up for a couple of hours,
they sat quietly outside until their watches told off the very tick of
the expected hour. Then, just as they saw the guard bringing up the
prisoner, they tapped on the tent flap, and at a word of summons
entered.
The General, looking as though he had never stirred since the night
before, sat in his accustomed place at the head of the table, over which
a number of papers were strewn. He bade the boys good morning and
nodded them to seats. In another moment the prisoner entered.
For a few moments the General took no notice of the man, keeping his
eyes on his papers, while the fellow shifted uneasily from one foot to
the other.
Then General Pershing looked up.
"Prisoner," he said, "it is not customary to accord a prisoner of war
the sort of interview I am about to give you, but the circumstances
alter this case. I want the truth, and the whole truth."
Porky and Beany nudged each other slyly.
"I want some of the information that it is in your power to give me, and
I want it straight. You know you are in my power. There is always a
firing squad for men like you. But I want you to unravel this puzzle.
I want you to commence when you left the ranch--yes, even before that."
The prisoner spoke eagerly. "I _will_ tell you the truth, sir. I am
glad to be here, no matter what you do to me. And I swear to tell you
the truth." He held up his right hand, and the boys saw it tremble.
They commenced to believe him. It was evident that the General did, for
he nodded and the man plunged into his story.
It held the boys breathless.
"There were eight of us working for you, General, before America went
into this war. Eight men of German ancestry or birth. Most of them
were naturalized, but one night a man came to my house and commanded me
to meet him in a certain place. He was a German officer and of course I
was curious to know what he wanted. When I arrived at the meeting place
I found the others there. The officer, showing credentials of his rank
that we could not doubt, told us that we were wanted as interpreters.
Just that, General. He explained that Germany was obliged to use all the
men within her borders as fighting men, and as they were most anxious to
have no misunderstanding with America, they were picking a German born,
or German bred man here and there as they could without rousing
suspicion. They were taking them from the farms rather than from the
cities. He said that several hundred would be needed. He assured us
that education was not necessary. It sounded very plausible, General,
and the salary we were promised was magnificent. We all bit, General,
and he took us away that very night in a couple of automobiles."
"The foreman told me," said the General, "that you went away in the
middle of the busy season without giving warning."
"Yes, we did, General. I am sorry, and I was sorry then, but the
pay--it was a _great_ temptation. We have been punished since. We went
down through Mexico and took ship. There were five hundred men on board
who were all going over to be 'interpreters.' And we never guessed,
poor fools, that ship after ship was bearing each a like load. We never
suspicioned the outcome. When we reached German soil, we were
scattered, two going one place, two another, and instead of having any
interpreting to do, we were outfitted as soldiers and attached to
different regiments. Men kept coming day after day. I dare not say how
many thousands of Germans have been taken out of the United States in
this way. We were virtually prisoners. Of course to the most of us it
did not matter much. After all Germany was our fatherland before
America adopted us. As long as we were fighting the French and English
and the Russians, we did not care.
"But then, when we were already very tired, came the news that President
Wilson had declared war.
"General, it is not yet believed in Germany. All of them, the highest
officers, even the Emperor, on occasion, all have addressed the troops
and have explained that war was declared solely for political purposes
and that no troops were to be sent over sea.
"They know now, do they not?" asked the General.
"Very few of them, General. They think that the English have adopted
the American uniform as a blind."
"What did you think, Fritz?" asked the General.
"I saw them fight, and I knew," said Fritz simply. "I know them; I know
how they fight. I told the others so. And when they came across the
plain I wanted to hurrah. I suppose I will be shot as a German
prisoner, but I could not help it. All my mistake was in the beginning.
I would have deserted if I could have done so. Why, General, if those
fellows over there behind the German lines knew the truth, a third of
them would walk right over here. They are lied to again and again."
"How is the army faring as regards food!" asked the General.
"There is not enough to feed a third of the men. All Germany is dying
slowly of substitutes. Substitutes for bread, for meat, for tea, for
sugar, for coffee, for milk. At first the army was fed well, at the
expense of the civilians. Now all suffer together, and no man in the
world works well or fights well on an empty and aching stomach." He
groaned.
"What were you doing ont there in that hillock?" asked the General.
"We were well behind the German lines a few days ago," said Fritz, "but
whether they retired purposely or not, I cannot say. Since then,
however, we have been kept there to communicate with the airplanes. It
was possible to signal them by means of electric flashes down on the
floor of our hiding place, through the open trap doors on top. Peter was
in command. He took and sent the messages, and repeatedly he crept out
in the night. I was never allowed to do anything, but if the Allies took
the plain, and those ridges beyond it, Peter said we would all go out in
American uniforms and learn what we could. We were expected to discover
things too cleverly hidden from the airplanes."
"This is interesting at least, Fritz," said the General. "It would be
still more interesting to know just how true it is that the German army
in general does not know that we are seriously in the war. There are
two millions of us here now, Fritz, and more coming."
"Two millions!" echoed the astounded prisoner. "Two millions! When they
learn that, the war is over. But how will they ever learn it? Your
airplanes scattered leaflets along the front several times. Not where I
was stationed, but I heard the order that any man who saw another stoop
to pick up one of those leaflets, any man who was caught reading one was
to be shot dead by the nearest soldier, who would receive the cross for
doing it. I tell you, sir, they are doing _everything_ they can to keep
the army from learning that you are in the fight."
"I wonder how true all this is," mused the General.
Porky and Beany watched him narrowly. They were sure he had some plan,
but it was clear that he wanted the prisoner to speak first.
"It is _all_ true," said Fritz. "General, won't you let me earn my
life, set me free for two hours--only that? And I will prove it to
you."
"You will disappear just as you did from the ranch, I suppose," grated
the General in a harsh voice. "Why should I give you any chance?"
"I don't deserve it," said the prisoner, "except that if my plan fails,
I will certainly be shot by the Germans."
"What do you propose?" asked the General.
"Two, perhaps three hours of freedom!" begged Fritz. "And if I can
reach the German lines alive, I will return with twenty prisoners to
prove to you that every man who is told that the Americans are here and
are promised that they will not be shot, will follow me across."
"They are having a skirmish now," said the General, listening, "and a
thunder storm is coming beside." He was lost in thought. "Fritz, make
good!" he said. "I release you. You are but one man, no loss to us,
but you have told me a story of what amounts to kidnapping. I would
like to know if this is true. Just one thing. Prove it to me by
bringing twenty men back; but while you are there _set the word free
that the Americans have arrived_. Two millions, remember, perhaps
three." He smiled. "And do not attempt to go or come until nightfall.
I will remain here until midnight to-night. You are under guard until
dark. You may go." He rapped sharply on the table, the guards entered
and removed the prisoner.
The General began to smoke.
"What do you think, boys? Will he come back?"
"Yes, sir," said both boys together.
"Why?" asked the General.
"Why, he was telling the truth!" said Porky,
"They don't look like that other times," said Beany. "He was straight,
all right."
"He will have to prove it," said the General grimly. "Men who leave a
job without warning, no matter what the needs of the situation, do not
fill me with confidence."
"I guess he is sorry now, anyway," said tender-hearted Beany.
"We will hope so," said the General. "Porky, you may typewrite these
letters for me, and you, Beany, may check up these lists. If you can do
this properly, it will release a man for other duty."
For two hours the two boys were too busy to know what went on in the
tent. When the task was done the General dismissed them with strict
orders that they were not to go more than thirty feet in any direction
from his tent.
When the Germans had occupied that side of the valley, they had also
used the hill as a temporary headquarters. Porky and Beany, like a pair
of very restless and inquisitive hounds, went over the ground inch by
inch. They could not help feeling that something good must be waiting
for them within their screen of trees. The fighting miles away went on
all day, and the time dragged for the boys until about three in the
afternoon.
And then Porky found it--a tiny piece of wire sticking out of the ground
under a root of the big tree under which they were sitting, feeling like
a couple of prisoners themselves. They had never been on such close
bounds before, and they didn't like it.
Porky started to pull the wire, when Beany fell on him with a yell.
"A bomb!" he cried, flinging Porky on his back.
"My word! You have scared me to death anyhow," said Porky.
Together they dug around the wire and followed it down and down until
they almost gave up. At last, however, they had their reward, a square
black tin box which they carried carefully to the General's tent.
Even then the greatest care was taken in opening it, for fear of an
infernal machine of some sort. It opened easily, however, and without
harm and disclosed a mass of papers. So many that the German officer
who had been in charge of them, fearing capture, had evidently buried
them, thinking that with the turn of battle he could easily reclaim them
from the earth.
Among the papers were several cypher keys, and one of them was found to
fit the papers found by Beany in the oak table in the dungeon at the
chateau back at headquarters.
Even the General was delighted, as a little study disclosed the most
important plans of the coming campaign and a scheme for the expected
drive, which now could be met point for point.
It was dusk before the General and his staff finished with an
examination of the papers, fitting the new keys to the papers already in
their possession.
Porky allowed himself to crow. "Guess we are sort of little old
Handy-to-have-around!" he chortled. "Guess we get to go all the way
with _this_ distinguished mob!"
"Looks so," said Beany, "but you never can tell."
_And they couldn't_.
*CHAPTER XIV*
*ORDERS ARE ORDERS*
Night fell dark and stormy. As soon as it was dusk Fritz begged to be
released and, receiving the General's permission, slipped away.
"I doubt if he comes back," said the General, "but it will spread the
news at least. No, it is too much to expect that a man will persuade a
couple of men, to say nothing of twenty, to give themselves into the
hands of an enemy they have been taught to believe is ruthless, but if
he does, we will know that the conditions in the German army are worse
than we dream."
Time dragged away. The boys, still believing in Fritz, sat at the head
of the only trail, watching. They almost wore their watches out looking
at them, and trying them to see if they were wound. Time seemed to
stand still and yet, somehow, ten o'clock came, and eleven and a quarter
past. At half past the drivers prepared the cars for their silent night
journey to the next sector. The tents were down, all but the screen of
blankets behind which, with a closely shaded light, the General sat.
Ten minutes and the boys looked once more at the illuminated dials, and
sighed.
"I'd have bet on that duck, if I was a betting man," said Porky sadly.
"I bet he _meant_ to come."
"Hark!" said Beany, listening.
Porky listened too. He could always hear what Beany heard, if Beany
called his attention to it. A soft tramp of feet could be heard. The
boys leaped to their feet. Tramp, tramp, scuffle, scuffle, up the hill
in the darkness!
"They are coming!" gasped Beany.
They were.
A flash of lightning preceding the storm that had hung off all day split
the sky, and in its momentary glare the boys saw a small squad of
American soldiers come out into the little clearing. The boys stood
aside as they passed. Another squad brought up the rear, and between
them--yes, between them marched, or rather staggered, a dismal company
of twenty haggard skeletons headed by Fritz!
He had kept his word. The men were evidently frightened badly and Fritz
kept talking to them as they advanced. The General came out of his
shelter and surveyed them by the light of his flash.
"Here they are, sir," said Fritz. "Ask them what you like."
The General spoke to the weary men and they replied rapidly in harsh,
hoarse voices. Porky and Beany stood in an agony of curiosity, wishing
that they had studied German instead of Latin in high school.
Finally the General took time to explain to the officers who did not
understand.
He gave orders to have the prisoners fed, and soon the strange little
company wound off down the hill again on its way to the prison camp.
Fritz, as a sort of trusty, was given special privileges.
"It is quite true, gentlemen," said the General. "The conditions in the
enemy's army are most serious. They are only half fed, poorly clothed
and letters occasionally smuggled from home report a frightful state of
affairs--famine, disease and intense suffering among the families of the
soldiers. This alone you know will break the morale of their troops.
"And Fritz said he could have brought five hundred men as well as this
twenty, but they are taught that we torture them and always shoot our
prisoners sooner or later. That is why they fight so desperately.
"They think death awaits them in any case, and that death on the
battlefield is far preferable to that which we will mete out to them if
taken prisoners.
"Fritz assured me that he had set the ball rolling, however, the news of
our millions of men in the field. This has been a surprising experience
but we are already late. We must be off!"
Rapidly the party took their seats in the automobiles. The first was
about to start when a motor was heard in the darkness. It was
approaching, apparently from headquarters.
"Word for the General!" was the whispered word, and sure enough, the
driver of the swift, low car had a letter for the General. He read it
and called the boys.
"News for you, young men," he said regretfully. "General Bright has been
recalled to the States, and you are to return with him. This cuts your
stay several weeks and, I regret to say, makes it impossible for you to
continue with us. You are to return in this car."
The boys, desperately disappointed, hopped out, found their field kits,
and advanced to say good-by to the General.
He shook hands heartily and patted each on the shoulder.
"I shall miss you, boys," he said. "You have certainly done your bit!
Some day, when we are all back in America, I shall expect you to come
and see how _real_ apples grow on a ranch in Oregon."
The boys thanked him. They could not say much. It was a great
disappointment.
They settled back in the car which was to take them back to General
Bright. They heard the other cars glide quietly and swiftly away in the
distance. They too shot out at high speed.
Soberly they stared into the darkness. Their thoughts flew forward to
the tiresome trip to the port of embarkation, the long ocean voyage with
its deadly inaction. They had been living in confusion, danger, and
uncertainty. They commenced to see before them their home, their father
and mother, the familiar fellows.
"We have to get Bill and Peggy," said Beany.
"Yep!" said Porky briefly.
They could just _see_ their mother, with oceans of love for them and
plenty for the two orphans beside.
For the first time a great wave of homesickness swept over the boys.
That they were to have a pleasant, safe trip would not have interested
them if they could have been told of it. They were homesick. Silently
they rolled on and on in the dark. Presently Beany slipped an arm
around the hunched up shoulders of his twin.
"Wish we were home _now_!" he said huskily.
"Gosh!" said Porky.
FINIS