A DEEPENING MYSTERY
"He came off his perch mighty quick," remarked Bart to Frank in a
whisper.
"I don't wonder," replied Frank. "He'd be a pretty poor insurance risk
if these people could get a whack at him."
The corporal asked a few formal questions as to the lieutenant's
regiment and division, which were answered sullenly though promptly.
But these had little interest just then, and their asking was really a
matter for headquarters. They were simply the prelude to other
questions in which the company were much more deeply concerned.
"You had a prisoner here?" asked the corporal.
"Yes."
"Where is he now?"
"He was placed upstairs."
"He is not there now. What have you done with him?"
"Nothing."
"What were you going to do with him?"
The officer moved uneasily.
"Take him back to my quarters," he finally answered.
"Why did you have that rope put over the tree by the well?"
There was no answer, but the officer grew red in the face.
"Did you hear the question?"
"It was to frighten him," the lieutenant finally blurted out. "Anyway
he was a spy and deserved to be hung. He had come into our lines in
disguise."
The corporal motioned to Frank.
"Ask the girl again if she is sure the prisoner had on an American
uniform," he directed.
Frank did so.
"_Oui, oui,_" she affirmed emphatically.
To make sure, Frank repeated the question to the farmer and his son and
received the same answer.
He reported to the corporal.
"These people all say that the prisoner was not in disguise,
Lieutenant," said Wilson. "Do you still wish to insist that he was?"
"Yes."
"That is enough," replied the corporal with quiet scorn. "Line up the
prisoners, men," he commanded.
This was quickly done, and the homeward march commenced, but not until
another search had been made for the missing captive of the Germans.
It had the same result as the previous one and the boys were full of
questionings and forebodings as they marched back guarding their
prisoners. But there were some elements of comfort in their perplexity.
In the first place, they had saved some American soldier, whether Tom
or another, from a horrible death. Then, too, they had in their power
the brute who had planned that death. It was not impossible, too,
that, under further questioning of the lieutenant and his men at
headquarters, more might be learned of what they wanted so badly to
know.
Another subject of congratulation also was that the prisoner, if he had
escaped, was not far from the American lines. He might find his way in
at any time.
But there was one thing that bothered Frank considerably, and he
mentioned it that night when he found himself alone with Bart and Billy.
"Do you remember the minute at the edge of the wood when the corporal
gave the order to fix bayonets?" he asked.
"Sure thing," replied Bart. "What about it?"
"Just this," replied Frank. "At that minute I caught sight of a man
running away from the farmhouse into the woods on the other side. I
got the picture of him in my mind, but I didn't have time to think
about it just then, for we were making a rush for the house. Then
other things crowded it out of my mind altogether. But it came back to
me on the way home this afternoon."
"What did the man look like and how was he dressed?" asked Billy
eagerly.
"He had on an American uniform," replied Frank slowly, as he tried to
make the picture clear in his own mind.
"Perhaps it was Tom!" cried Bart.
"No, it wasn't," said Frank positively. "The uniform was smart and
newer than ours. Tom's must be in tatters and you remember the girl
said it was. Then, too, I'd know Tom's gait among a thousand just as
you would. No, it wasn't Tom, worse luck."
"Who was it, then?"
"I think it was Nick Rabig," replied Frank.
"Nick Rabig!" the others cried together.
"Mind, I only say I think," repeated Frank, looking around to see that
no outsider was within hearing. "I wouldn't be willing to swear to it.
But the motions were Nick's--you know he runs like a cart horse--and
you know that Nick has been togged out in a new uniform since he came
back from that queer captivity of his among the Huns."
"Nick Rabig there," mused Bart perplexedly, as he began to pace up and
down. "What on earth could he have been doing there?"
"Say," put in Billy with agitation, "could he have done anything to
Tom? Suppose he went there, no matter for what purpose; suppose he
found that German crowd dead to the world; suppose he found Tom
upstairs bound and helpless. You know how Nick hated him."
"Keep cool, old man," counseled Frank, though there was a trace of
anxiety in his own voice. "No, I don't think anything of that kind has
happened. If it had we'd have found some traces of it. I think we can
leave that out of our calculations."
"I'm only too glad to," said Billy. "But what was Nick's reason for
being around that farmhouse anyway?"
"What have always been Nick's reasons for being where there are
Germans, or where he expects there will be Germans?" said Bart.
"Suppose--just suppose--that Nick knew--had a tip, let us say--that a
certain German lieutenant on a certain day would be in a certain place,
ready to receive and pay for any information about the American forces
that Nick had been able to gather. Do you get me?"
"I get you, all right," answered Frank, "and from what we know of Nick
we've got a right to think so. Well, he didn't sell anything today
anyway. He didn't find the German lieutenant in any condition to talk
business."
The bugle blew for "taps" just then, and the conversation came to an
end. And the two days that followed were so crowded with events that
their own personal interests were thrust into the background.
For the great drive was coming, the drive for which they had been
looking for months, looking not with fear but with eager anticipation,
their ardent young hearts aflame with the desire to fight to the death
the enemies of civilization.
The weather had favored the enemy in his preparations. Usually at that
time of the year the ground was soft and not fit for military
operations on a grand scale. But the ground this year had dried out
unusually early and was suitable for the bringing forward of men and
guns.
There were all sorts of rumors afloat as to what the enemy had in
store. There were said to be monster guns that could throw shells more
than seventy miles. There were new and diabolical inventions in the
way of gas that were to cause unspeakable agonies to their victims.
There was talk of gigantic mirrors that would act as burning-glasses
and blind the opposing troops.
Some of these things proved to be true. Others were mere lies,
designed to sap the morale of the Allied armies and civil populations
before the fight began.
"Heinie's the biggest boob that ever happened," grinned Billy, when the
boys were discussing the coming conflict. "He acts as if the Allies
were a lot of children. He thinks that all he has to do is to dress up
a bugaboo and we'll all roll over and play dead."
"He'll get something into that thick head of his after a while,"
predicted Frank. "It will have to be jabbed in, but there are a lot of
us ready to do the jabbing."
"Let him bring on his bag of tricks," scoffed Bart. "When all's said
and done, it's going to be man-stuff that will decide this war. And
there's where we've got him on the hip. Man to man we're better stuff
than the Huns. We know it and they know it. They can't stand before
our bayonets."
"Right you are, old scout!" said Frank, enthusiastically, giving him a
resounding slap on the back. "Let them bring on their old drive as
soon as they like. They can begin the drive. We'll end it. And we'll
end it in the streets of Berlin!"