AN UNSEEN FOE
It was not a long journey to the station for which the Khaki Boys
were bound. During the ride they had plenty to say in regard to the
interesting trio they had left behind them. What had been rather a dull
afternoon had suddenly turned into a red-letter evening. Not only were
they jubilant at having again encountered the Twinkle Twins. They had
also met one of the great heroes of France, and they could not readily
get over it.
Arrived at the station, they were obliged to spend half an hour there
before getting a train back to camp. Still absorbed in enthusiastic
talk concerning their absent friends, they were not impatient over this
little wait.
With the train on time, the five Brothers calculated reaching camp in
good season. Once there a few moments' brisk walking would see them
safely back in quarters.
All now being non-commissioned officers they had found it
comparatively easy to make arrangements to be together. They were
now well aware, however, that when they reached a village back of
the firing line this state of affairs could not continue. Each would
probably be quartered in a separate residence with a number of privates
in his charge.
"We've barrels of time," announced Bob, as the train stopped in front
of the camp station. "Where's our jailer? It's time he came and let us
out of the jug."
By "jug" Bob humorously referred to the compartment which the guard
had locked at the beginning of the journey. As it happened, the guard
was at that moment engaged in unlocking another compartment from which
issued a solitary man, heavily bearded, his hat pulled over his eyes.
Almost coincidental with Bob's inquiry the "jailer" appeared and opened
the door for his temporary prisoners. The Khaki Boys skipped nimbly
out of the compartment and started off at a leisurely pace across the
station platform.
"A fine evening for a hike," pronounced Roger presently, drawing in a
long breath of the crisp night air. "Just enough cold to make a fellow
feel brisk and snappy."
"Don't you get 'snappy' with me," warned Bob jokingly. "I'm in a real
good humor and I'd hate to have to snap back."
Now well away from the station, the hikers were tramping along five
abreast in the middle of a street of a little French village, which
they had to traverse in order to reach their camp.
"It's almost as light as day," Jimmy squinted up at the round moon.
"This would be a fine night for a Boche air raid on Paris."
"Too light," disagreed Schnitzel. "A Zep would be spotted in a hurry
and the Archies would get busy and smash it."
By "Archies" Schnitzel referred to the anti-aircraft guns, a part of
the defenses of Paris against air raids.
"Did you hear what Voissard was telling me about the megaphones posted
outside the city?" asked Roger.
Ignace, Schnitzel and Bob answered in the affirmative.
"I only caught part of it. I was talking to Jack," replied Jimmy. "What
was it he said?"
"Well, they call these megaphones 'the ears of Paris.' They are
recording reversed machines with microphone attachments. They're set up
in clusters of four at different points just outside the city. Through
them the sound of an airship's engine and propellers can be heard five
miles away. There's a look-out for every bunch of 'em. The minute they
begin to hum he sends warning. Then, bing! The searchlights blaze up
in the sky and a flock of aeroplanes get busy and attack the Boche
raiders."
"Good work!" approved Jimmy. "I wonder if it's the same in London?
There seem to be more raids there than any place else. Almost every big
raid you read about's on London."
"I suppose the fog gives the brutes more of a show to drop bombs,"
reflected Schnitzel.
"It's a horrible business," growled Bob. "I'm glad the Allies are
beginning to give the dogs some of their own dope. I wish they'd wipe
Germany off the map."
"She'll do that for herself if she keeps on trying a little longer. I'd
hate to be deutschy Deutschland when our Allies get through with her.
She'll sure be out in the cold," predicted Roger.
"Let her freeze. She deserves it," was Jimmy's vengeful opinion.
"So think I," echoed Ignace, who had been plodding tranquilly along
with his Brothers in his usual silent fashion.
"Poland at last heard from!" exclaimed Bob. "I thought it had been
struck dumb by Cousin Emile."
"No yet," flung back Ignace. "So much I hear I feel to keep the shut
up. So mebbe I learn som'thin'."
"Oh, my conversation is always highly instructive," Bob patronizingly
assured. "You can learn something from Bobby every time he opens his
mouth. He's a walking compendium of knowledge and a spouting fount of
useful information."
"We'll let _Bobby_ tell it," jeered Jimmy. "I wouldn't be caught
dead----"
Walking next to Bob, something suddenly cut the narrow space between
the two with the peculiar whistling whine which belongs only to a
speeding bullet.
"Drop!" yelled Jimmy, suiting the action to the word. "Some Boche has
it in for us!"