Front matter (continued 3)

"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