"What a queer girl's freak that was," murmured Prescott, and called Ensign Dave Darrin over to read the despatch.

"I'm afraid I don't like that," muttered Dave, his brow darkening. "We'd better wire the girls begging them to get away from the border as soon as they know how."

"Who's that you're going to order away from the border, Mr. Darrin?" inquired Captain Foster, coming up and catching only a few words.

"No one that we can very well order, sir," replied Darrin. "I may as well tell the captain. You see, sir, Laura Bentley and Belle Meade are the two girl sweethearts that waited for us until we got settled in the service. They were on their way West to Fort Clowdry, for both girls wanted a military wedding, and there was nothing of that sort to be had in the home town. So Prescott wired them, aboard their train, that he was ordered to Holmesville, and that I was going along with him, and that we'd be back at Fort Clowdry at the earliest moment. But the girls took it into their head to change their route to Holmesville. Maybe you can get away, Dick; in any case I'll hire an automobile and get up to Holmesville as quickly as I can."

"I am afraid there may be some difficulty about your getting into Holmesville, or the young ladies getting out," replied Captain Foster.

"What do you mean, sir?" demanded Prescott, noting how serious was the look on the captain's face.

"A few weeks ago, gentlemen, a mob burned a Mexican at the stake up at Holmesville. The Mexican was a worthless fellow, but of course an effort has been made to fasten the crime on the Texan residents of the town. As a matter of fact it is generally understood that the man lynched was burned by his own countryman as a result of some row among themselves. But the Mexicans on this border are in an ugly frame of mind, just now, as the most disorderly ones are all behind the revolution that's trying to get a start across the border. This telegram is from Washington, and informs me that the Mexicans have just turned loose at Holmesville. There are hundreds of them; they have been drinking and are armed. They greatly outnumber the Americans, and they are at present trying to get the upper hand in Holmesville."

"Riot and killing?" gasped Lieutenant Prescott, while Darrin's dark face went suddenly white.

"Yes," nodded Captain Foster.

"Then Prescott, we must get under way at once."

"You'll find it quite hopeless," remarked Captain Foster. "No man owning an automobile will take you into or near Holmesville until the rioting stops. The War Department advises me to have all in readiness to despatch troops by the river in case the governor of Texas calls for the help of United States troops."

"We ought to start an expedition up the river at once," groaned Lieutenant Dick Prescott, thinking of his and his friend's sweethearts in awful danger there.

"Unfortunately we can't start troops," replied the captain, "until the orders come. There are as yet no orders, and may not be."

"Then I must get under way alone," almost moaned Darrin. "You, too, Prescott, if you can get leave by 'phone from your commander."

"You can't get an auto," replied Captain Foster. "You'll have to walk, or go in saddle. Either course will take you nearly all of the night."

"But one of your boats, sir?" cried Prescott.

"You're an officer, Prescott, and you must realize that I can't legally release one of my boats from the duty here without an order or permission."

"And all the time Belle and Laura may be trying to hide from a blood-thirsty mob!" gasped Darrin in a frenzy.

"You stay here, Dick," broke in Greg Holmes. "I'll run to the nearest 'phone, get Captain Cortland at the other end of the wire, explain the situation to him and get leave to absent ourselves."

"But even at the best it will take hours to reach Holmesville," muttered Prescott, through blanched lips. "Oh, Dave, Dave, this is awful!"

"We'll get there, somehow—at least I will," muttered Ensign Darrin, in a quivering voice. "If you don't get leave within ten minutes, Dick, I'm going to start alone and try to run all the way to Holmesville. Captain Foster, you'll loan me a revolver and two boxes of cartridges, won't you?"

"Certainly," replied Foster, going into his tent and coming out with the articles named.

"I would like to make a suggestion, sir," broke in Lieutenant Hal.

"Go ahead, Mr. Overton," responded the captain.

"Why not send two men at once to the telegraph station? Order the telegraph office manager to remain open all night for military telegrams. If one comes, one of our men can start here at once on the run, leaving the other soldier to wait for a second despatch that may come in its wake."

"An excellent idea, Mr. Overton," and Captain Foster immediately sent two soldiers off on that errand.

"Sir, I request permission, if it can possibly be granted, to go with Darrin, Prescott and Holmes," broke in Lieutenant Noll.

"You may have that leave, certainly, Mr. Terry," replied Captain Foster.

"And I, also, Captain," broke in Hal eagerly, "since this affair involves the lives of the intended brides of two officers, and is most certainly a service affair."

"I fear you have forgotten something, Mr. Overton," replied Captain Foster gently. "You are now confined to camp, under charges."

Hal fell back, going suddenly white and staggering as though he had received a blow. In truth he had.

"I forgot," he assented wretchedly. "And, oh, this is hard, sir. I am wholly innocent of the charge, and yet of course you have no right to take my mere word. This, in the face of a desperate expedition that I want to join more than I ever wanted anything in my life as a soldier!"

CHAPTER XXII

SERGEANT KELLY'S FIT OF REMEMBERING

"Yes; it's tough," cried Prescott, "to be deprived of the help of one of the bravest, quickest-witted men in the United States Army!"

This heart-felt praise served as some balm to Hal's wounded, grief-stricken spirits. He would have given anything he possessed to join this long dash to save, if possible, two imperiled American girls.

"And there are other American women there to-night," added Hal brokenly.

None of the time was lost in talk, however, for the young officers who were to go were now busy looking to their weapons and ammunition, their canteens of water and other needed supplies.

It was unavoidable that the news should have leaked out among the soldiers now in camp.

The four young officers started soon, each giving Hal a silent, soul-felt grip of the hand before starting.

"Now, why the dickens ain't Lieutenant Overton going?" demanded Sergeant Kelly in wonder.

"Don't you know?" demanded a corporal. "Lieutenant Overton is in camp, under charges."

"What are ye talking about, man?" demanded Kelly incredulously.

"Oh, it's the truth," insisted the corporal.

"It's a frame-up, I am certain, but the prisoner, Ruggles, claimed that he gave the lieutenant five thousand dollars last night to fix it to let him, Ruggles, escape the consequences of smuggling arms over the border."

"What a silly lie!" sputtered Sergeant Kelly. "And did your captain believe a fool's fairy-tale like that?"

"He wouldn't have," replied the corporal, "only the lieutenant was searched, and the money was found hidden in his revolver holster."

"In the holster, say ye?" demanded Sergeant Kelly, with a flash of his eyes. The next words he uttered came in a shout:

"Binns, ye lop-sided shadow of a rookie!" he bellowed.

"Here, Sarge," answered a soldier, across a row of tents. "And what's got on your temper, Sarge?"

"Come here and ye'll be finding out!" growled Kelly, making a grab for the soldier. He caught that mystified fighting man, and, without a word, dragged him before Captain Foster.

"Salute the captain, ye deaf-mute!" ordered Kelly, letting go of the soldier and bringing his own hand up smartly to the brim of his cap.

"What's the meaning of these lightning tactics, Sergeant?" demanded Captain Foster.

"The meaning is, sir," ran on Kelly rapidly, "that I want this man to tell you something."

"What is it, my man?" demanded the captain.

"I don't know, sir," confessed Private Binns. "You'll have to ask Sergeant Kelly, sir."

"Binns," exploded Kelly, "you and me was standing at the stern on the captured motor boat for a spell, last night."

"We was—were," admitted Binns.

"Tell the captain what we saw when we looked down into the cabin, out of the darkness."

"Why we saw Ruggles handling Lieutenant Overton's revolver, in its holster," continued Private Binns.

"Now, what did the fellow Ruggles, do with the holster?" continued Sergeant Kelly severely.

"We saw him open the flap."

"And then?"

"Ruggles closed it again," stated Binns.

"Did we see him put anything in the holster?" cried Sergeant Kelly.

"Yes," admitted the soldier.

"What did it look like!"

"Paper—perhaps money," replied Binns slowly.

"D'ye think ye begin to see a light, Captain?" flashed Sergeant Kelly triumphantly. Then he turned to the soldier once more with:

"What did Ruggles do next?"

"He put the holster down and got up."

"How did he look?" pressed Kelly.

"Pleased, he looked. He grinned and muttered something quickly."

"Now, all that, Captain, sir, I'll swear to myself," continued the sergeant, turning in triumph to Captain Foster.

"Why didn't you tell me all this before?" demanded Captain Foster, while Hal stood by, all a-quiver, yet too full of emotion to speak.

"Because, sir, 'twas only a minute ago that I knew there'd be anything in our news. Binns and myself thought that Ruggles, when he picked up the lieutenant's revolver, had some notion of blowing out his brains. Had he taken the gun out of the holster we'd have jumped down into the cabin and taken it away from him. When he put the holster down, we concluded the fellow had only picked it up in a moment's curiosity. Then Binns and meself saw the lieutenant coming, and stepped away. I even thought, at the time, sir, that the paper was something that Ruggles had disturbed in the holster."

"Come with me to the guard-tent," ordered Captain Foster. "You, too, Mr. Overton!"

"Ah, ye scoundrel, I'm sorry I didn't throw ye overboard last night!" was Sergeant Kelly's warm greeting as his eyes fell upon Ruggles.

"Stand back, Sergeant. Don't use any violence on the prisoner," commanded Captain Foster.

Under the accusation that the sergeant poured forth Mr. Ruggles quickly wilted. Then he became sullen, refusing to admit any of the charges.

"I'll take the word of a good sergeant and an honest soldier," announced Captain Foster, turning and resting a hand on Hal's nearer shoulder. "Mr. Overton, Ruggles can prefer his charges at his leisure, if he wishes to, but as for me, until orders come from higher authority to the contrary, I inform you that you are no longer confined to camp. If there is time, Overton, you may run after the other young officers and go with them. I'll watch the river to-night myself."

"I'm afraid I can't overtake them now, sir," replied Hal, who, at least, was overjoyed at the appearance of this new and saving testimony. "I don't know just which road they've taken."

"Bugler!" shouted Captain Foster. As the field musician came running up he added: "Sound the recall. I think Prescott and the others will understand that. Blow your hardest, Bugler. Give the call three times. That will bring them back, but every man among them, Overton, will think it worth while coming back briefly to add a fighting man like yourself to their number!"

Two or three minutes later the four young officers could be made out, coming back on the run.

At the same time one of the soldiers detailed at the telegraph office came up on the run from another direction.

CHAPTER XXIII

IN THE THICK OF THE RIOT

"Yes!" cried Captain Foster, joyously, after a brief glance at the yellow sheet he had drawn from the envelope. "Listen. This order is from Washington. The War Department, acting on a request from the governor of Texas, has sent me the order direct to send twenty men and one or more officers up the river on the swiftest boat at my disposal. Mr. Overton, you will command. The other young officers will go with you. You, Mr. Prescott, will take your own ten men from the Thirty-fourth, and you, Mr. Overton, will take Sergeant Raney and nine men from this regiment. All the men are here at this moment. Rush the orders!"

As soon as the two sergeants had been called and had received the orders, Captain Foster continued his instructions.

"Gentlemen, you will use the troops only to save life and restore order in Holmesville. At the earliest possible moment you will turn control over to the local police again. You may have to fire into rioting crowds, but be careful about shooting recklessly or needlessly into groups. Remember, too, that there will doubtless be many estimable Mexicans at Holmesville who will not be rioters nor in any way in sympathy with them. The rioters, you will find, will be of the worst and most lawless class of Mexicans; they will be largely composed of refugees from Mexican justice—the very riff-raff of the population."

At the conclusion of the instruction the young officers broke for the officers' tent to get their swords. As this night might see rousing hand-to-hand work with rioters the swords might have their place.

The two sergeants heading the squads were now rushing the drawing of rations and ammunition. In a very few minutes the squads had fallen in.

"Sergeant Raney," called Lieutenant Hal, "move your squad to the dock in double time."

Prescott followed this with similar orders to Sergeant Kelly.

The two captured craft and the "Restless" lay at the dock. As the troops, their officers in the lead, marched out on the pier Skipper Tom Halstead sang out:

"Stand by the engine, Joe!"

With that the young motor boat captain leaped to the dock and ran to the stern hawser, while Hank Butts stood by the bow-hawser.

"Squad halt! Break ranks! Get aboard lively," ordered Sergeant Raney. Nor did Kelly let his own squad lose any time. The young officers followed in the wake of their men.

"Want to cast off?" called Skipper Halstead pleasantly.

"Without loss of a second," replied Lieutenant Hal.

Without waiting for other orders Hank let go the bow-line and carried it aboard with him. Tom Halstead went up over the stern.

"Slow speed ahead, Joe," Hank called down as he rested one hand on the wheel. The "Restless" began to move from her pier.

"Up river, or down?" called Skipper Tom, coming forward.

"Up!" voiced Hal. "And at racing speed, too!"

"Dutchman's gait, Joe," Hank called down unconcernedly, as soon as the "Restless" had well cleared the dock, having swung the craft around, heading up the river at a speed increased to twelve miles.

"Can't you crowd a lot more speed on?" demanded Hal Overton.

"Dog chasing that Dutchman, Joe," Hank sang down, and the "Restless" was soon doing eighteen miles an hour.

"You told me your best speed was twenty-six to twenty-eight, didn't you?" asked Hal, wheeling around as Skipper Tom Halstead joined them.

"Yes, sir."

"Can you hit up that speed without endangering the engine?"

"Yes," replied Tom, "but we'll burn a lot of gasoline doing that."

"Gasoline?" uttered Prescott contemptuously.

"How many pailfuls will a thousand dollars buy?"

"Is it as bad as that?" asked Skipper Tom quickly.

"American women's lives are at stake up at Holmesville!" returned Overton. "Riot going on there—Mexicans against Americans."

Hank Butts didn't wait for orders.

"Joe," he yelled, bending over the engine-room doorway, "sheriff and a bill-collector after that Dutchman!"

Joe Dawson didn't wait to be told more. He threw open everything to the widest notch, then snatched up a bulky oil can with an unusually long spout, and stood feeding oil to the bearings.

"The sweethearts of Mr. Prescott and Mr. Darrin are in great danger at Holmesville," Lieutenant Hal murmured in Skipper Tom's ear.

"Jumping Jupiter!" gasped Halstead, and went down into the engine-room in two bounds for a word with Joe.

Those standing on the deck could fairly feel the quiver with which the "Restless" leaped forward at her best speed.

"It's like riding on an express train!" glowed Lieutenant Greg Holmes.

"No express train was ever made that's fast enough for me to-night," muttered Lieutenant Dick Prescott between set teeth.

The running lights were out, for it was nearly dark when the "Restless" had left Agua Dulce. Only the movement of a switch was needed to turn them on.

"Ever been to Holmesville?" demanded Dave Darrin, turning almost fiercely on Tom Halstead when he showed his head on deck.

"No, sir."

"Wouldn't know the place by sight?"

"No, sir."

"Nor I, either—from the water front," groaned Darrin. "But surely you have some chart of the river?"

Tom Halstead was already out of sight again. When he came on deck he remarked:

"I've been looking at the chart. Now, I'll know Holmesville to a dot when we sight the place."

"Nice sort of a town some one took the trouble to name after me, isn't it?" grunted Lieutenant Holmes.

"Say! Look there!" gasped Lieutenant Noll, pointing ahead just as the craft rounded a bend of the river, and something was visible that the trees had shut out before.

A thrill of dismay went through all. Ahead the sky was angrily red at one point.

"The miscreants have fired the town!" roared Dick Prescott, in anguish. "Captain Halstead, is there no more speed to be wrung out of this boat?"

"We're going like the wind, now, Mr. Prescott," Halstead answered. "To try for any more speed would be to endanger either the engine or the propeller."

"Let this young skipper alone, Dick," whispered Holmes soothingly, in his chum's ear. "He knows his business, if ever a man did!"

As more miles were covered the red blur against the dark sky became larger and brighter. Prescott and Darrin watched it as though dazed. Once in a while their hands wandered to their weapons.

"We'll be there in ten minutes more," announced Halstead finally, after a glance at his watch.

"Thank Heaven!" devoutly muttered two young officers.

"Oh, I hope we're in time!" groaned Lieutenant Hal, turning to Noll Terry.

Three or four enlisted men were on deck. The others, after the cool indifference of their kind until the moment of action comes, were below in the cabin. But every soldier started to his feet as Raney's voice rang out:

"Ready, men, for a quick landing!"

"You'll go back out into the stream, won't you, Halstead?" Lieutenant Overton asked, as Hank directed the "Restless" in toward a dock.

"Joe Dawson will," answered Skipper Tom. "He and I have already drawn lots to see which one of us would stay on the boat."

"You're not going ashore into this hades of riot and arson, are you?"

"Where American women are in danger?" retorted Skipper Tom. "Nothing less than a file of soldiers could keep me back!"

A dozen irregular shots rang out just as Halstead and Hank leaped ashore to hold the lines.

"Tumble off there, men. Don't wait for any gang-plank!" roared Lieutenant Prescott.

Tom Halstead and Hank Butts did not attempt to throw the hawsers over posts, but tossed their lines back to the deck as soon as the last soldier was ashore. Joe Dawson, taking his place at the wheel, and with one foot against the deck control of the engine, bawled out:

"Good luck to every one of you!"

Hal Overton had swiftly formed his squad in a single rank, ordering the soldiers to fix bayonets. Prescott formed his own squad as a second platoon. As Tom Halstead hastened up he carried a stout cudgel, while Hank Butts carried the hitching weight that had made him famous.

As the little relief column moved off the dock and in at the foot of the principal street of Holmesville, the light of burning buildings showed them a highway on which hundreds of maddened human brutes were moving.

Occasionally, from one of the houses still left untouched by flames, a shot was fired. So enraged and occupied were the rioters that they did not perceive the approach of uniformed men.

"Forward, on the double quick!" ordered Lieutenant Hal, snatching his sword from the scabbard. Just ahead the rioters had turned to pour a fusillade of fifty shots into a house from which a revolver shot had been fired.

There was no sense in halting and calling on these maddened rioters to disperse. Hal saw that quickly. Some in the mob saw the soldiers in time to raise a shout, but few of the other rioters heard it.

"Ready to charge! Charge!" shouted Lieutenant Hal Overton.

The front rank of soldiers hit the edge of the mob with cold steel. That rush and impact seemed to serve only to madden the rioters, and in an instant there was wild hand-to-hand combat.

CHAPTER XXIV

CONCLUSION

The first squad went through the crowd fast, though leaving a red trail of minor sword and bayonet wounds. The second squad had a harder fight, as the enraged mob, after spreading a bit, closed in. There was still plenty of fight in the rioters, who now realized how small a military force had assailed them. Dave Darrin was using the butt of the borrowed revolver in clubbing every strange head that got within reach of his arm.

"Halt! About face and go back into 'em!" ordered Lieutenant Hal. The mob, feeling itself hemmed in between two parallel lines of bayonets, gave sufficiently to let the military party reunite.

"Where's the Eagle Hotel?" Hal shouted hoarsely, as a Texan, rifle in hand, showed himself at an open window.

"Two blocks up. You can't mistake it!" came back the roaring answer.

As the two ranks of soldiers tried to go on at the double quick, two or three hundred of the mob tried to follow at their heels.

"Second squad halt! About face!" yelled Lieutenant Prescott. "Load! Aim!"

Then he turned to his chum.

"Fire if you have to, Holmesy. I've got to leave you and run forward!"

Lieutenant Greg Holmes nodded his understanding. Then he stood there, grim-faced and watchful, mindful, also, of his orders not to fire on rioters unless it became absolutely necessary.

But the sight of ten Army rifles staring them in the face caused the mob to halt for a moment or two, whereupon Holmes faced his men about, continuing the march. Twice more he found it necessary to halt and menace the enraged followers.

Ahead was another mob not much smaller. These men were in front of the Eagle Hotel as the first squad ran up.

"Charge!" yelled Lieutenant Hal. "Charge!" echoed Greg Holmes. There was another sharp, ugly clash. Bayonets prodded, swords thrust, Tom Halstead wielded his club and Hank was busy with his weight.

Dave, Dick and Noll, as soon as they could reach the hotel, dashed away from the troops toward the front entrance of the hotel, which stood open, battered down as it had been by the mob.

As these three rescuers darted into the lobby, a woman's scream sounded from a room not far away. Into this dashed the three young officers. Just before they vanished Tom Halstead and Hank Butts rushed in, catching sight of their friends.

In the billiard room of the hotel stood Mrs. Bentley, leaning against a wall and looking ready to faint. Laura Bentley, far more beautiful than when we saw her last, had caught up a chair, with which she was threatening a dark-haired young Mexican who sought to reach her. Belle Meade, her dark beauty unmarred by the look of anger in her face, had snatched up a cue, with which she was menacing another young Mexican dandy. Four or five other Mexicans stood in the room, interested spectators.

"A reminder for you, my friend!" muttered Dick Prescott hoarsely, as he ran his sword-point into the thigh of the man before Laura.

"May this give your mind ease!" gritted Ensign Darrin, bringing down the butt of the revolver on the head of the Mexican facing Belle.

Then the other Mexicans in the room attempted to take a hand, but they were soon put to flight. One of them limped, or rather hopped—for he had encountered Hank Butts. Tom and Hank helped the injured out in a hurry.

Mrs. Bentley revived at sight of the uniforms, and still more at sight of the well-known faces of two of the officers. As for Laura, she threw her arms about Dick Prescott's neck, embracing him ecstatically, too overjoyed at first to speak. Not so with Belle Meade. She, too, gave her intended husband an enthusiastic embrace, but she murmured in his ear:

"Sorry we couldn't give a better account of ourselves, Dave. But the scoundrels came in here in a drove. They've killed at least two men who tried to defend us."

"If they try to start anything more, Belle, girl, they'll all get killed."

Lieutenant Dick Prescott, a mist swimming before his eyes, could only murmur:

"Laura, you need have no further fears. There are squads from two regiments of regulars on the spot."

Presently Dick and Dave were left behind at the hotel with five soldiers of the Thirty-fourth. Lieutenant Hal led the remainder of the troops through the streets. The comparatively few Texans of the village, who had been greatly outnumbered, and driven to fighting behind cover, now appeared in the wake of the troops. Wherever bands of rioters were found they were herded and driven out of the town. It required all the firmness and tact of Lieutenant Hal to keep the justly enraged Texans from piling up a big slaughter.

Before the arrival of troops some twenty Mexican rioters had been killed, and many more wounded. Six of the Texans of the village had also been killed, including the two—the hotel proprietor and one other—who had gone to the defense of Mrs. Bentley and the girls. A score of rioters who had met Hank Butts were limping now.

Thirty houses of the village, some of them belonging to Mexicans, had been fired. As they were not attached to other buildings these fires were allowed to burn out.

At daylight a company of Texas militia marched into town, having arrived from a distant point.

The rioters belonged to a peculiar class from the sister republic. Many were criminals, wanted in their own country, who had found safety across our border. Many more had been of the class who would have been camp followers of the insurgent army, had that especial revolution gained the dignity of being backed by a rebel army.

For three weeks more the border patrol was continued. Then, as the revolutionists over in Mexico had been soundly thrashed by the responsible federal government of Mexico, the border patrol by our own American troops was no longer needed.

As early as possible Laura Bentley, Belle Meade and Laura's mother were escorted to the railway, and sent forward to Fort Clowdry, there to wait as Mrs. Cortland's guests until Prescott could return from Texas. Dave Darrin, of course, went along with the ladies.

Ruggles, who had once been worth some three million dollars, mostly invested in Mexico, never dared press his absurd charge against Lieutenant Hal Overton. As a result of the revolution, and his known part in it, Ruggles had much of his Mexican property confiscated under the laws of that country. The rest of his estate dwindled sadly for want of his care, for Ruggles, owing to his orders to fire on United States troops, was sent to a federal prison for ten years.

Guarez, Boggs and a few others were given prison sentences of two or three years each.

Of the two boats captured, Boggs's tug was released on payment of a fine. Ruggles's motor boat, however, was condemned and sold at auction. Ruggles's daughter, Meta, his sole near relative, is now living on the remnant saved out of her father's fortune. She is a good girl, and is waiting to aid her parent to begin life over again when he is freed.

Tom Halstead and his boatmates, as soon as released from the government contract, departed in search of further adventures. That they found them is known to readers of the volumes in the "Motor Boat Club Series."

A month after the affair at Holmesville there was as picturesque a double service wedding as it was possible to have at Fort Clowdry.

The Thirty-fourth's band furnished the music. The post chapel was the scene of the solemn affair. All the parents of the contracting parties came on from Gridley.

The chapel was ablaze with all the pomp and glory of the dress uniforms of the Army and the Navy, for a few of Dave's brother officers contrived to be present.

Greg Holmes was, of course, Prescott's best man; Ensign Dan Dalzell performed that service for Ensign Dave Darrin.

Nor were Lieutenants Hal and Noll absent, for they secured leave to attend. The ushers at the wedding were four young naval officers, with Hal, Noll, Algy Ferrers and another young lieutenant representing the Army.

Behind the double bridal party, as the post chaplain and an assistant began the solemn, beautiful service of the church, stood the ushers, a double wall of steel, as it struck some of the onlookers—a wall of Army and Navy steel guaranteeing the future of the two young couples and pledging them happiness.

Lieutenants Hal Overton and Noll Terry were now firmly established in their new careers as line officers of the United States Army. At the next session of Congress the Senate ratified their nominations as a matter of course, and the two young officers soon after received their commissions as second lieutenants from the President.

Though of course it was far beyond the reach of their present vision, a deep shadow was hanging over the world—the shadow of a great war to come, the greatest and most savage war in the history of the world. In that coming war with the German Empire, each of these splendid young officers was destined to play a big part, a part that was certain to bring honors to each, as well as the appreciation of a grateful country.

The story of their participation and of their thrilling experiences in this great world war, will be told in a following volume, entitled "Uncle Sam's Boys With Pershing's Troops at the Front; Or Dick Prescott at Grips With the Boche."

The End.