It was one of the greatest and at the same time one of the most sudden reprisals of the war up to that time, and the victory that had been snatched from defeat was cheered by thousands of Americans and Frenchmen as they again took possession of their own trenches, or pushed onward across No Man's Land to occupy those which the Germans were now abandoning.

The sun was setting, and soon, in great measure, at least, hostilities would be suspended for the night.

Their work completed, Lieutenant Mackinson and his men were on their way back to make their report when they met Slim, who had been relieved for the night at headquarters.

"What time did Jerry come down?" Joe asked, after they had passed remarks about the various thrills of the day.

"Don't know," Slim answered, "but I saw them there at four o'clock, and they weren't there when I looked again, about half an hour later, so you can judge pretty well for yourself."

"Guess he had a pretty good bird's-eye view of the whole thing," said Joe, as they passed on, to meet again before mess.

Except for spasmodic outbursts here and there, the trench duel had almost entirely subsided, and the heavy roar of the artillery also was punctuated with longer pauses. Whatever the morrow might bring, the night promised to be fairly quiet, while each side took account of stock and made necessary repairs, or altered their plans to meet the new situation.

Our young friends were busy with wash basin, soap and water, taking off the grime in preparation for the evening meal and wondering where Jerry was keeping himself all the while, when suddenly a very strange thing happened beyond the enemy's line.

Lieutenant Mackinson was the first to discover it and call the attention of the others.

A Taube, one of the smaller, lighter, and more easily handled aeroplanes, and used in great numbers by the Germans, shot into the air at great speed from behind the Boche entrenchments. In its upward course its path was a dizzy spiral, and, if one on the ground might judge, its pilot seemed to be seeking a particular air channel. At least that was the way it looked.

Then, from almost the same point from which it had come into view, half a dozen other planes rose into the air, following in the path of the first, and also flying at top speed. Up to then there was nothing so very strange about the whole procedure. It simply indicated that those manning the American and French anti-aircraft guns, and the aviators of those two armies, should get ready to repel an enemy air raid.

But the queer thing occurred when every one of the pursuing planes opened up their machine-guns almost simultaneously upon the first. And even this might have been considered a well-designed hoax, were it not for the unmistakable evidence that the first aeroplane, the Taube, had been hit.

Still going at maximum speed, and now on a straight line toward the American side, without seeking a further height, the Taube several times wavered, and, a moment later, almost turned over.

But the pilot righted her, and even as the pursuers began gaining, and still kept up an incessant fire, he pointed her nose downward toward the American lines.

Four American planes sailed off and upward to meet the oncoming German air armada. But from the ground it could be seen that the man in the observer's place in the Taube was making desperate signals.

The American planes maneuvered in such a way as to encircle the Taube, and yet at close enough range to examine her without particular menace to themselves. There were several seconds of criss-crossing and rising and descending, and then as a unit the American planes left the Taube and started after the German craft, which had hesitated, as though uncertain what further course to follow.

Several volleys of shots were exchanged, and the other German planes turned back toward their own lines. The Taube continued on its wavering, crippled, downward course toward the allied lines.

"Looks as though a couple of our men had been reconnoitering the German lines in one of their own make of machines," said Lieutenant Mackinson, as the Taube came within a hundred yards of the ground and righted herself for a landing.

There was a general rush toward it as it hit the ground. Of its own momentum it rolled to within a two minutes' run of where the lieutenant and the others had been standing. In another instant it was entirely surrounded by a crowd of curious American soldiers.

But if they were surprised at seeing seated therein two men in the uniforms of the United States army, their feelings hardly compared with those of Lieutenant Mackinson, Joe, Slim and Frank Hoskins, as they recognized, stepping out of the Taube, Jerry and the observation officer with whom he had occupied the stationary balloon practically all of that day.

"Who are you?" "What happened?" "Where have you been?" and a score of similar questions were fired at them by the other soldiers as Jerry shook hands with his friends, and the officer smilingly made away to file his report.

"Well, to put it briefly," Jerry said, in answer to the general demands for information, "we were anchored off there most of the day in an observation balloon. Late in the afternoon a shell cut our cable, and almost before we knew it we had been carried behind the German lines.

"The fight was still commanding the attention of almost everyone, and after descending a little by permitting some of the gas to escape, we jumped over the side of the basket and came down on our parachutes. I landed in a deserted barnyard, and the officer hit the earth only a short distance away.

"While we were hiding there, debating just what we should do, along comes a Taube, and its pilot decides to make a landing almost at that same place. Well, the officer being a pretty good pilot, we decided to have that machine. We got it, and I guess that pilot's head aches yet where I plumped him with the butt of my gun when he wasn't expecting anything of the kind.

"But some other German aviators saw the affair, apparently recognized our uniforms, and hardly gave us time to make a decent start.

"Say," Jerry concluded, "they certainly did pebble us with machine-gun bullets! I saw two bounce off the propeller, and one broke a wire on the left wing, making us flap around rather uncertainly for a few minutes. It was a great race, though, and we considered our greatest danger lay in landing on this side. We knew it would be recognized for a German plane, and we were afraid we'd be fired on before we could make our identity known."

Led by the lieutenant and Jerry, the party tramped back to where, shortly, mess was to be served.

"That air certainly does give a fellow an appetite," said Jerry, as he splashed more of the clear cold water over his face.

An orderly stepped up to Lieutenant Mackinson and handed him a large, officially stamped envelope. As he tore it open and read the brief note within, a pleased smile spread over his face. From the same envelope he extracted three smaller ones. He handed one to each of the lads who had accompanied him over on the Everett, according to the way they were addressed.

Opening them, the boys could hardly suppress their jubilation. Stripped of their official verbiage, the letters informed the young men that each of them was made a corporal, Joe for valorous service in saving the lives of "three Americans entombed in a cave; Slim for heroism and presence of mind in saving and bringing back to the lines an American soldier," and Jerry "for coolness and courage, and for the information gathered behind the enemy's lines."

"This road is being cut for the purpose of permitting the passage of a wireless tractor, of which you men are to be in charge. Through a part of that section an old telegraph line still remains, but it does not connect in a direction to meet our requirements.

"Reports received this morning indicate that by night the engineers will have put the road through to a selected point where you will have the least difficulty in concealing your tractor and its aerials. From your position there you will keep constant vigil, for you will be able to inform us long in advance of any effort of the Boches to come through that way.

"The road winds about the mountain side, and in some places is quite steep. But the ground is now hard and the motor will make the pull. Good-by, and good luck to you."

An hour later, with Frank Hoskins, who was an experienced driver, at the wheel, they started for their destination in one of the big, high-powered trucks which not only carry a complete wireless equipment but also provide enough space for sleeping quarters for half a dozen men.

As a matter of fact, these trucks are so designed that, if it is necessary, they can carry a crew of ten men, while by means of a special clutch and gear the engine is made to drive an alternator for generating the necessary electrical energy which, under the most adverse atmospheric conditions, will give a sending and receiving range of at least one hundred miles. In ideal weather the radius increases to as much as two hundred and fifty miles.

A powerful mechanism which in its operation resembles the opening of a giant pair of shears, raises the mast and umbrella-shaped antenna, and the average time in getting the apparatus ready for service is only about eight minutes.

The entire tractor, including crew, weighs close to five tons, and it can be easily imagined that its operation on a steep and treacherous mountain road was far from easy and anything but entirely safe.

With them the lads carried sufficient rations to last them five days, it being understood that their larder would be replenished at the necessary intervals.

They also took with them a radio pack-set, which is another wireless apparatus that can be carried about with little difficulty. This they had in the event of any unexpected emergency. The entire pack-set could be carried about in a suitcase, and after it was set up its current was generated by turning a crank by hand. Its range, under ordinary atmospheric conditions, was about twenty-five miles.

The first few miles of their journey were accomplished with little difficulty, but as they struck the uneven, newly-made road, their troubles began to increase. At times the jolts were so severe that it seemed they would shake the electrical apparatus loose from the tractor, while some of the inclines were so steep that, after attempting and failing to make them once, they had to go backward and then try again, with increased speed.

It was bitterly cold, and while Frank and whoever at the time sat beside him on the front seat kept reasonably warm, being directly behind the hard-working motor, the others frequently got out, to run along for a quarter or half a mile to limber up their stiffened joints and get their blood in circulation again.

One of their greatest difficulties came when, more than three-fourths the distance to their destination, and at one of the narrowest points along the road, they met the large truck bearing back toward camp the company of engineers.

The wireless tractor was chugging along under a heavy strain, but the other truck was coming down the steep grade under the compression of its engine, to accelerate the use of the brakes. And with the little warning they had, the two drivers brought their big machines to a stop less than ten feet apart.

It was impossible for the truck containing the engineers to back up. And the first widening in the road over which the wireless men had come was fully a quarter of a mile behind. There was no other course than for Frank to reverse, and, with a man on either side of the tractor in the rear, directing every slight turn of the wheel, to go back to that point.

Once the engine stalled, making the stability of the whole weight of the heavy tractor depend upon the brakes. Frank grabbed the emergency, and jammed it on with all his strength, but not before the machine had gained a momentum which made it a question for a few thrilling seconds whether or not the brakes would grip and hold it.

As they finally rounded the turn which gave them the brief space of wider road, and the engineers' truck passed by, the men waving each other a cheery farewell, the boys from Brighton gave a sigh of relief.

When they reached what they decided should be their destination, almost at the end of the road and in a dense bit of wooded section which would obscure them from enemy observers, they brought their tractor to a stop. With pick and shovel they began building an earthen oven, in which they might cook their food, and from which they might keep reasonably comfortable, without being seen.

A light snow began to fall, and, mess over, the lads decided to retire for the night. Before doing so, however, they set up the mast and aerials and made the connection to the storage battery. It was agreed that they should sit up in two-hour shifts, to be ready to receive any message that possibly might come, but it was arranged that the other four should divide this duty, allowing Frank, who had driven the truck over the entire trip, a full night's sleep.

So the night passed, with the lads taking turns at the lonely vigil. The snow continued, the wind increased almost to a gale, and the temperature dropped still lower.

Fully eight inches of snow lay upon the ground when gray daylight came and Slim, the last man on watch, awakened the others. The storm was diminishing, but still they could see only a few yards distant from the tractor.

"Guess I'll warm up chopping some wood," said Joe, as he took an axe and left the others still dressing.

In half an hour he had brought in enough to cook the breakfast and last half the day, and while Slim acted as cook, Jerry started out to fell more saplings.

Before noon the clouds broke, the sun came out, and its reflection from the pure white glistening snow was almost blinding.

"A snowball fight," suggested Jerry, and the others took up the idea as a boon to dispel the monotony of their isolation.

With the lieutenant "umpiring" from the little wireless room of the tractor, Joe and Frank "stood" Jerry and Slim, and from a distance of a hundred feet apart the battle began.

One of Frank's well-aimed missiles caught Slim squarely in the mouth, just as he was calling out some challenging remark, and from the window of his post Lieutenant Mackinson laughingly shouted: "Strike one!"

Slim, spitting and blowing out the icy pastry, gathered all his strength to hurl a ball back at Frank. But he "wound up," as baseball pitchers call that curving swinging of the arm just before the ball is thrown, with such vigor that he lost his balance. His feet went up into the air and he came down ker-plunk! but the snowball left his hand with what proved to be unerring aim.

Joe, letting out a howl of laughter at Slim's accident, caught the tightly packed wad of snow right in the ear. He turned his back to the "enemy," and, leaning forward, began pounding the other side of his head to dislodge the snow.

Of a sudden he straightened up, uttering an exclamation of surprise.

"Lieutenant!" he shouted. "Look here!"

The lieutenant jumped out of the tractor, and the others followed him on the run to where Joe and Frank were gazing off down into the opposite valley.

Two, perhaps three, miles away, a winding, twisting line of black against the snow was pushing its way laboriously around the mountain base.

"Germans!" exclaimed Lieutenant Mackinson. "Wait until I get my field glasses, but do not stand where they might see you with theirs."

From positions within the clump of trees the lads watched the line spread out and slowly but surely forge its way ahead. The lieutenant returned with his glasses.

"At least ten thousand of them," he announced at last, after gazing down at them for fully a minute. "And nobody knows how many more behind. We must notify the camp at once."

He ran back to the tractor, followed by all but Jerry, who remained to observe the enemy's further movements.

In two or three minutes the wireless operator at headquarters signaled back for them to go on with the message.

"About ten thousand enemy troops proceeding through eight inches snow, bound northwest around eastern base of mountain," Lieutenant Mackinson's message ran. "Am observing and will report progress. Any orders?"

In another five minutes the wireless clicked back: "Are any of enemy flanking mountain on south?"

Jerry, who at that moment entered the tractor, informed them that the Germans had divided into two diverging lines, apparently for that very purpose.

There was a considerable pause after this was flashed to headquarters. Meanwhile Jerry had gone back to his post of observation, accompanied by Frank and Slim.

"How many big guns?" was the next query from the commanding officer of the American forces in the sector.

Joe rushed out to where the other three were standing, and from them returned with the information that already they had counted seven headed toward the north, and five being hauled toward a place where they might round the southern base of the mountain.

This news was sent through space to the American army; and the lads who were the silent witnesses to what the enemy had intended and fully expected should be a secret movement, waited in silence for further developments.

"Can you get back over the same road with tractor?" was the next message that came, and Lieutenant Mackinson called for the more expert judgment of Frank Hoskins before answering.

"We can try it," said Frank in a rather doubtful tone, "but it's risky business. It will be as much as we can do to follow the road, and we can't hope to see the ruts and bumps. The worst part of it is, though, that the tractor is so heavy it may not hold the road. However, we can try."

The lieutenant repeated the gist of this to headquarters, and the message came back: "Better try."

But by the time this decision was reached the fire in the earthen oven had almost entirely died out, and the engine of the tractor, which had been drawn up to it, had become so cold that they had to build another fire, to get hot water to put into the radiator, before they could get it started.

And then the perilous journey began.

With Frank at the wheel, and running the engine only in low gear, as compression against gaining speed, the lieutenant and Joe trotted ahead, one on either side of the road, to indicate the course of the crude highway.

Jerry and Slim, inside the big truck, were doing their best to hold things in place as they rocked and jolted over the deep ruts and gullies.

It must have been this series of terrible jars that finally splashed grease and oil in on the brake bands. Whatever the cause, it suddenly became apparent at one of the steepest and sharpest turns in the whole route that the brakes were not holding.

"Look out!" Frank shouted to Joe and the lieutenant ahead, as he realized the truck was getting beyond his control. "Better jump!" he advised Jerry and Slim, standing just behind him.

As Lieutenant Mackinson and Joe ran to either side of the road, the tractor slid by them at increasing speed. Slim and Jerry, following Frank's bidding, leaped from the rear and landed unharmed in a snow-bank.

"Run her into the side of the mountain," shouted Lieutenant Mackinson, and that was exactly what Frank was doing. It was the only possible way of saving the tractor from gathering more and more momentum, and, finally beyond all control, leaving the road and hurtling down the steep slope.

With all his strength Frank swung the wheel so as to turn the right side of the car at an angle up the mountain wall that flanked the road. In this position the machine was still traveling along with great force when it struck a thick abutting ledge of rock.

There was a sudden jolt, a sharp crack, and Frank was hurtled forward head first into the snow.

When they had brushed him off and made certain that he was uninjured, except for an awful jarring up, they began an examination of the machine.

The right front wheel had been crushed to splinters, the axle was bent, and the machine was wedged so far under a split edge of the granite as to be, for the time at least, totally useless.

"Better go back to where we were first," Lieutenant Mackinson said at last. "We'll take the pack-set with us, and we can probably advise headquarters of our predicament with that, and also inform them of the progress of the enemy movement."

Wearily they turned about, each man loaded down with the necessities that they had to take with them from the wrecked tractor. It was nearing night when they reached the apex of the mountain again, and their first desire was to see whether the Germans had entirely passed around the mountain.

So far as they could see they had!

But the Boches had done more than that. Their heavy guns were being sent around either side of the base of the mountain, each quota being part of a good-sized army. But they were sending another strong detachment up and over the mountain itself!

And the first section of it was less than a mile below, spreading out in such a way that while a part of it would come over the top, other parts would go around either side, and they would be fan-like in shape, forming a virtual comb in the search for any enemies who might be lurking there.

"The pack-set!" ordered the lieutenant. In a very short time it was set up, and Jerry was grinding the crank to generate power while the officer flashed out the headquarters call.

In a moment a message began to come: "J-X. J-X. J-X. J-X."

Lieutenant Mackinson nervously began tapping the key again, but the only reply was the insistent call for J-X, which was the code call for themselves.

"No use," said the young officer at last. "We can catch them, with their stronger range, but we haven't radius enough to send to them."

"Those troops cannot reach here until after dark," said Slim.

"No," Lieutenant Mackinson acknowledged, "but they are in such numbers that we could not hope to keep our identity or presence hidden, and they are getting around the mountain quicker than we could get down and beyond their line."

"It looks as though we were hemmed in," said Frank Hoskins in an even tone.

"Yes," agreed Jerry, "and in a tight place."

And without granting them any further information then, Lieutenant Mackinson swung his share of the burdens to his shoulder and started down the rough mountain road, the others following, and likewise bearing the various necessities which, only a short time before, they had labored so industriously to carry up the mountain.

As they neared the point where they had left the wrecked machine the young officer turned to Joe, who was nearest to him.

"Do you remember," he asked, "seeing that wire of the old telegraph line just about a hundred yards below where we ran the truck into the wall?"

"I saw it," Joe admitted, "but I didn't pay any further attention to it."

The others had come up within hearing distance.

"Well," the lieutenant responded, "if you had traced its course you would have seen that it is swung from this mountain to the one directly to the south, just at the point where the valley between narrows down to little more than a deep ravine."

"But it doesn't run into our lines," Frank objected again.

"That's true," Lieutenant Mackinson admitted again, "but it may serve our purposes just the same."

"How?" Slim asked entreatingly. "Tell us what your plan is, Lieutenant."

"No," replied the young officer in teasing tones, "I don't want to raise your hopes until I determine whether it can be accomplished."

And he plodded on toward the tractor, refusing to answer another question. Indeed, it is doubtful if he heard them, for he was busy with some important mental calculations—problems that required his engineering knowledge and ability, and that had directly to do with the personal safety of every man in the party.

"What tools have we here?" he asked of Frank Hoskins, as they arrived at the wrecked wireless tractor.

Frank opened up a tool chest that showed a great variety of implements in almost every size and shape.

"Good," said the lieutenant, as he looked up from where he was rummaging in another part of the car. "Here, Jerry," he commanded, "let me have that mallet and cold chisel and then help me rip a couple of these boards off the floor."

He had laid aside a large pulley wheel, several nuts and bolts and some heavy copper wire. With the aid of the mystified Jerry he tore two stout boards up from the floor of the tractor.

"Now we've got to work rapidly, fellows," he said, "for it will soon be dark, and we don't want to attract attention to ourselves by making a light.

"Here is what I am going to try to do: That wire is strung really from mountain to mountain, running down a slight grade from where it is fastened here to where it is tied up over there. I don't know how strong it is, or how securely it is fastened at the other end, but I'm going to find out.

"You've all seen those trolley-like boxes that run on wires in department stores, with which the clerk sends your money to the cashier's desk, and the cashier returns the change? Well, I'm going to construct something on the same principle, only I want to make it strong enough to carry my weight.

"If I can do that, and the wire holds, the incline is sufficient to carry a passenger to the other mountain without any propelling power. I'll try it first, and carry with me one end of this reel of copper wire. If I get over all right I'll attach the wire to the little oar and you fellows can haul it back for the next passenger, and so on until all of us are over."

Slim looked dubious. "How thick is that wire?" he demanded anxiously.

"You know Slim's a trifle heavy," Jerry reminded the lieutenant.

"Well," said Slim in a serious tone, "I'd rather fall into the hands of the Germans, and have some chance for my life, than spatter myself all over the bottom of that ravine."

While this conversation was going on, Lieutenant Mackinson was boring a hole about two inches in from each of the four comers of one of the planks taken from the floor of the truck.

"This ought to do for a seat," he said, as he began running pieces of the heavy copper wire, of equal length, through each of the holes.

He then laid this part of the work aside for a moment and began filing off one end of the riveted axle that held the pulley wheel in its frame. When he had knocked this axle out he tried one of the bolts and found that it fitted almost exactly, and that the wheel ran freely upon it.

"Have to have that wheel off to put the thing on the telegraph wire," he explained, as he began securely fastening the copper wires into the bottom of the pulley frame.

Completed, the thing looked for all the world like a miniature trapeze seat.

"Now," he said, slipping a wrench into his pocket, and buckling on his legs a pair of spurs such as all linemen use to climb a smooth pole, "I'm going to take this up that telegraph pole with me and fasten this thing on the wire. Then it's 'All aboard for the opposite mountain.'

"If I get over all right I'll give one flash of my light. If I don't—well, don't try the wire route."

Without wasting another second he dug one spur into the pole and started climbing upward, dragging his improvised car with him, together with the loose end of the reel of copper wire.

By this time it was pitch dark, and they could feel, rather than see, that he was tightening the bolt which hung the apparatus on the wire. The lads had placed a heavy stick through the reel, and two of them held either end of it.

"Let it run free," the lieutenant told them. "And don't forget the signal. I'm ready. Good-by!"

There was a sudden jerk on the reel and the wire began to unwind quickly. It literally spun round on the stout stick which they were holding. They just got a glimpse of the courageous lieutenant sailing off through space, a thousand feet above the bottom of the ravine.

The unwinding wire gave an added spurt, and then, pressure being released from it, it began to slow down.

"He's either on the other side, or lost the wire," said Slim, his nervousness showing in his voice.

Every eye was glued to the opposite mountain.

"Look!" almost shouted Jerry. "He's safe!"

Sure enough, the light had flashed out once in the blackness of the night, and then as suddenly disappeared.

The boys began hauling in on the copper wire, winding it again on the reel.

"Who's next?" asked Frank, as the last of the cable was being re-wound.

"Eenie, meenie, minie, mo," Jerry began to count out, when Joe suddenly interrupted.

By ten feet of heavy twine Lieutenant Mackinson had tied the spurs to the car so that they would dangle within reach of the lads on the ground. Attached to them was a note, which read:

And so Slim, not entirely assured, and breathing somewhat heavily as he contemplated the distance he had to fall if the telegraph wire should break, was the next to climb a-straddle the crude "air-line" trolley, on its second trip to the opposite mountain.

In a few moments the light flashed out again and then disappeared, while Joe, Jerry and Frank hauled in on the cable to which the car was attached.

By mutual agreement it was arranged that Frank should be the next to go over, after which they would send the portable wireless, followed by Jerry, and finally Joe.

Lads of less courage never would have attempted such a perilous escape, but they made it without a single mishap. It was not until Joe, the last of the party, was just coming to a stop in the outstretched arms of his friends, that the Germans below, and on what was now the opposite mountain, seemed to sense something going on—or perhaps had seen the mysterious blinking of the flashlight—and let go a distant and futile volley of shots.

"No use, Boche," called the lieutenant mockingly, "we're out of your range. And now, having escaped you, we'll see what we can do to harass you."

Saying which he began opening up the pack-set wireless, while two of the others set up the umbrella antenna.

Lieutenant Mackinson began tapping off the headquarters call. It might have been the slightly nearer position they were in, or, so far as they knew, headquarters might have moved meanwhile, but in a very short time the operator there was responding.

The young officer gave an accurate account of the operations of the Germans, and particularly of their artillery. Headquarters thanked them, told them to stay until morning where they were, and then ask for further orders.

In less than half an hour the boom of heavy guns from the westward told them that they had given their information in time.

American artillery was dropping a rain of shells into the cuts in the mountain through which the Germans had to emerge with their guns to do any damage! Their whole plan, so carefully carried out, had been defeated!

When headquarters had responded, the lieutenant gave them the glad tidings of the Boche retreat. That done, he proceeded to give the details of the wrecking of the tractor and of their escape to the second mountain.

"Ought to be aviators," the operator at headquarters came back at him on his own account, and then added: "Wait for orders."

These came a few minutes later.

"Divide as follows: Lieutenant and two men return here; other two go forward at safe distance with portable, and report to-night."

Lieutenant Mackinson read them the message.

"Well," he asked, "which two are to accompany me back, and which two are to stay on the heels of the Boches?"

"I've got a scent like a deerhound," averred Slim.

"And I was born to be a scout," declared Jerry.

"You two spoke first," announced the lieutenant pleasantly, "so I guess that shall be your end of it, if that's what you want."

"Fine!" exclaimed Jerry and Slim in unison.

"Anyway," added the lieutenant, "I guess there'll be enough serious work for the rest of us when we get back. For instance," winking at the others, "there's that smashed tractor, Frank, that you will have to explain."

"Not so long as you were in charge of the party," Hoskins retorted quickly. And Lieutenant Mackinson, unable to determine whether the remark was a facetious evasion of responsibility or an indirect compliment to himself, on the ground that no act of his would be questioned, pursued his bantering no further.

"I guess," he said, "that Joe, Frank and I had better start back at once. You two will have to wait here some time before you can begin trailing that army. I'm sorry we can't stay with you, but I feel that we ought to report back as soon as possible."

And so the three of them began the preparations for their return, while Jerry and Slim watched and studied the movements of the regiments they were to follow.

"They seem to be pretty well tired out," said Slim at last. "Guess they didn't have any sleep at all last night."

"We're going to find it pretty heavy tramping through that snow, too," Jerry answered. "And with the wireless and rations we'll be carrying a hefty weight."

"Well, boys; we're off," announced Lieutenant Mackinson, and the separating parties shook hands all around. "Take care of yourselves," he admonished, "and we'll look for you back by to-morrow."

The officer, Joe and Frank started off on their long tramp back to camp, and Jerry and Slim watched them until they were out of sight.

"That looks like the last regiment of the Germans going over the opposite hill there, too," said Jerry, as they turned to observe the enemy army. "We can start in a short while."

And in half an hour, Jerry carrying the heavy pack-set and Slim toting the equally weighty rations and incidentals, they set off on the Boches' trail.

Out in the open, and especially in the mountains, distances are deceptive. Jerry and Slim learned this when they had been traveling for two hours, and the point where they had seen the last German disappear over a hilltop seemed as far away as when they started.

"Ever travel along in a train at night watching the moon, and notice how it seemed to move right along with you?" asked Jerry.

"Lots of times," answered Slim, as he puffed along, "Why?"

"Well, that's the way that hill seems to be traveling along, always keeping the same distance ahead of us."

"I've heard of armies 'taking' a fort, or a city, or a trench," said Slim. "Do you suppose those Germans are 'taking' that young mountain along with them?"

"Seems so to me," said Jerry, coming to a halt to shift the heavy pack-set to the other hand.

As a matter of fact, early evening—a cold, biting winter evening—was settling about them when they finally climbed to the crest of that hill to cautiously "see what they could see."

Far beyond the slope ahead of them, in the dim dusk, they could discern a mass of men, evidently halted for the night.

"That's their rear guard," announced Jerry, with the field glasses to his eyes. "I can even make out their sentries."

Slim took a look and agreed. "Hadn't we better report?" he asked.

"I think we ought to make this bunch of trees here our position, and then scout ahead a little first," said Jerry.

"All right," Slim agreed. "Which one of us shall go?"

"Let's toss."

They did, and it fell to the lad who had claimed to have the scent of a deerhound to go out and reconnoitre, while the "natural-born scout" remained behind.

Divesting himself of all his burdens but his revolver and ammunition belt, Slim started off. Leaving Jerry to arrange their effects, he gave that young man a real shock when he silently returned five minutes later unheard by Jerry, and, standing only half a dozen feet behind him, blurted out:

"Forgot my field glasses."

Jerry whirled around as though he had been shot. "Why don't you sneak up and try to frighten a fellow to death?" he demanded.

"Sorry," Slim apologized. "Thought you heard me coming."

"I believe you did it on purpose," Jerry growled, as the other youth again started off.

"I'll send in my card first next time," was Slim's parting remark.

"Well, be sure to make yourself known," retorted Jerry, "or I might mistake you for a Boche and send in a bullet."

Slim's laugh floated back and he disappeared down a ravine through which he was making for a higher point of observation further on.

Ten minutes elapsed and there was no sign of Slim. When a quarter of an hour had passed Jerry began to get worried. Had his friend perhaps fallen and injured himself? Had he lost his way? A dozen fears came into Jerry's mind, and at the end of another five minutes he decided that it was time to take some measure to learn the whereabouts of Slim.

Softly, but with great carrying force, he gave the well-known "Whip-poor-will."

The answer was the same that Slim himself had received that night in No Man's Land when the wounded and unconscious Rawle lay bleeding beside him—nothing but absolute silence.

A great dread that he could not have defined gripped Jerry's heart. Something had happened to Slim; there was no doubt about that. What was it? Injury? Death? Capture?

Again Jerry gave their mutual Brighton signal: "Whip-poor-will."

"He can't be entirely out of hearing," he argued. "There's some reason why he doesn't answer." It was fast growing dark. Sliding the pack-set and their other paraphernalia into a little gully which he easily could identify later, but where it would be entirely hidden from the view of anyone else who might chance upon the scene, Jerry set out in search of his friend.

It was a difficult task that he set himself, for he knew no more than the general direction that Slim had taken. But remembering that his chum had started off down the ravine, and that his purpose was to reach a higher hill a quarter of a mile away, Jerry took that route, too.

Two or three times as he stumbled along he snatched out his pocket searchlight and was about to use it, when some sixth sense, plus the mystery of Slim's absence, prevailed upon him to take his chances in the darkness.

Coming out of the ravine, he turned to the left and, by a steep incline, reached a ledge that seemed to be a natural pathway to one of the higher peaks.

Suddenly the heart within him seemed to stop beating.

Somewhere ahead of him, but seemingly upon a lower level of ground, men were talking! And they were talking in German!

As though a bullet had struck him, Jerry dropped forward upon the ground. Grasping the outstretched roots of a tree, he pulled himself up within its heavy black shadow. There, scarcely daring to breathe for fear of attracting attention, he lay and listened.

He thanked Brighton then for his understanding of the German language.

Slim Goodwin was a prisoner, and those men—how many there were of them he could not tell—were questioning him! Slim was pretending not to understand.

Jerry's brain worked rapidly. There was no use of his returning to the wireless and attempting to summon help that way, for even if aid was sent it would be hours before it could arrive, and, presuming that the rescuers could find the spot, there was every likelihood that the Germans would have departed with their prisoner before that time. No, assuredly, if Slim was to be rescued, he, Jerry, must do it. But how?

As he lay there thinking, he heard the one who seemed to be the officer in charge order another man to build a fire. As it crackled and began to blaze up, the reflection of the flame gave Jerry their exact location. Also it formed a curtain of light against which it would have been easy for him to have seen any Boche sentinel or outpost, had there been one between him and them.

Assuring himself that there was not, he crept cautiously forward, foot by foot, until he was at the edge of the shelf of rock and could gaze almost directly down upon them. The fire gave good illumination. There was a young German lieutenant and four of his men. A short distance away, in the shelter of some trees, five horses were tethered.

Slim finally had consented to talk—if what he was doing could be called talking. And in what was purposely the most miserably broken German imaginable, he was telling them that he got separated from his unit several days ago (which was true), and that he had been wandering about that part of the country for the last couple of days (which also was true), and that he did not know where he was (which likewise was the truth).

While this was going on Jerry had scribbled upon a piece of paper: "Am near. Look lively if they sleep." This he wrapped around a small stone. For a moment all the Germans turned toward the fire, where one of the men was preparing supper. In that instant Jerry tossed the message straight at Slim's feet.

Slim gave a little start, recovered himself immediately, stooped over, and, pretending to wash his hands in the snow, unwrapped and hastily read the note, and then trampled it into the ground. When one of the Germans turned suddenly, he was innocently drying his hands.