Boy Scouts Mysterious Signal; Or, Perils of the Black Bear Patrol

"But I say it's not fair!" cried a red-headed lad, drawing himself up to his full height. "You're not playing fair with us!"

"Ach, it is not so!" protested the one to whom the boy spoke. "We find you an enemy in our city, and you must take the consequences!"

"Just because you wear an officer's uniform," retorted the boy, beginning to lose his temper and gazing fearlessly into the pale blue eyes of the other, "is no sign you know more than we do. You may think that helmet and those stripes on your arm give you more brains than the common run of people, but it isn't so! I say I protest!"

"And much good your protest may do you at this time and place," was the calm answer. Then, drawing his eyebrows down until the blue eyes were scarcely able to peer beneath them, he continued: "I, Heinrich von Liebknecht, Captain in His Imperial Majesty's army in command of a detachment sent forward to capture this city, have decided that it is better that you remain with us. There is nothing more to say."

"But there is a great deal more to say!" stormed the boy.

"Jimmie," cautioned another lad, stepping forward and laying a hand on the arm of the red-headed boy, "perhaps it would be better to say no more just at this time. There must be some way out of this."

"Silence!" commanded the man who had called himself von Liebknecht. "The decision has been made. I leave you now, but will return in a few moments. By that time you will have said farewell to your friends and be ready to accompany me for service under the Kaiser!"

The lad addressed as Jimmie could scarcely restrain a sneer as the other finished speaking. His contempt was unbounded, and he did not seem to be making any great effort to conceal his emotion.

Just as the door was closing behind the departing man Jimmie permitted himself to wrinkle his freckled nose in that direction and accompanied the gesture with a motion indicative of great disgust and contempt well known to many.

The scene was one unusual in the extreme. Four young boys were standing in a room from which the ceiling had been partly removed by an exploding shell from a cannon. They were in one of the houses that had only partly escaped destruction during the bombardment of Peremysl by the Germans on that memorable first day of June, 1915.

Three of the boys were about eighteen years of age and wore the well-known uniforms of the Boy Scouts of America. The eldest, Ned Nestor, was slightly older than the others and wore insignia that denoted his rank as patrol leader of the Wolf Patrol, New York City.

Jack Bosworth and Harry Stevens stood beside Ned, their uniforms slightly the worse for wear, due to the extremely active experiences they had just undergone. These boys were members of the Black Bear Patrol of New York City, and were fast friends of Ned Nestor and his red-headed chum, Jimmie McGraw, the fourth member of the group.

Just now Jimmie was not wearing the Boy Scout uniform. Instead he was dressed in the uniform of a Russian Cossack, and this was the immediate reason for the controversy that had arisen between the boy and the German officer. Those of our readers who have followed the adventures of the boys as related in previous volumes of this series, and particularly that entitled "Boy Scouts with the Cossacks, or Poland Recaptured," will at once recall the exciting circumstances that resulted in Jimmie's donning the Cossack uniform and the reason for the presence of the four boys in Peremysl at this time.

Jimmie seemed to be too much overcome by his emotion at what he considered rank injustice to be able to carry on rational conversation.

"I tell you, Ned," he sputtered, "just because I happen to have on some clothes a little different from others they needn't think I'm any different myself! I'll fix his clock, all right!"

"Don't forget about using slang, Jimmie!" cautioned Ned, half laughing. "But you see the German officer, von Liebknecht, is really more than a little bit right at that."

"How's that?" inquired Jimmie in astonishment.

"They say clothes don't make the man," replied Ned, "but in a great many cases clothes are like one's reputation-they play an important part in other people's estimate of us. In this case, for instance, the Germans have just captured this city from the Russians. You are discovered wearing a Russian Cossack uniform, and they naturally and almost excusably conclude that the wearer of the uniform is a subject of the country it represents."

"Oh, I see," slowly replied the lad, nodding his red head.

"Yes, Jimmie," put in Harry Stevens, "you see it pays to 'Be Prepared,' just as our motto says. We never can tell just when we'll be required to depend upon our reputation or our uniform for a favorable opinion from those who see us or hear of us."

"That's all very well," interrupted Jack Bosworth, "but how are we to get Jimmie out of this predicament? General or Captain von Liebknecht seems to think that he's going to make a German soldier out of Jimmie just to keep him out of harm's way, and I don't like it."

"Perhaps we can find some of the other uniforms or clothes of some sort for Jimmie to change into," suggested Harry eagerly.

Ned shook his head in a despondent manner.

"I'm afraid that wouldn't work, boys," he said presently. "We would only be caught at it and all tried for spies, and maybe find ourselves in a worse predicament than we now are. Perhaps the German officer will listen to reason when he returns."

"Yes," scorned Jimmie. "Perhaps the sun will shine at midnight, or water will start running uphill, or something like that will happen!"

"You don't seem to have much faith in the German ability to change the mind?" inquired Jack. "Maybe this fellow'll be different."

"No, sir!" pursued Jimmie gloomily. "The average German is a pretty decent fellow in a great many ways, but when it comes to changing his mind-why, it 'can't be did,' because it's impossible."

"Hush!" commanded Ned. "Here he comes. I'll talk to him."

But, though Ned endeavored by every art of conversation at his command to influence the German Captain to change his mind, that individual insisted that since Jimmie had been found in the captured city wearing the uniform of a Russian Cossack he must be treated as one. The only alternative he would admit was that Jimmie must give evidence of his claim that he was not a Russian by enlisting in the German army.

"So," decided the German, "you haf been to riding horses accustomed. Goot. You shall now ride a horse for der Kaiser, und," he added meaningly, "you shall do it vell. You may now say goot bye to dese odder poys und come mit me. Der oath ve vill administer."

Several soldiers fully armed, standing about, stepped forward at the Captain's signal. Placing themselves between Jimmie and his chums, they advanced, fairly compelling the lad to accompany them.

Thunderstruck at the proceedings, but unable to render any assistance to their comrade, the three lads watched Jimmie disappear through the doorway. Then, as they were left quite alone, they turned to one another with an air of dejection.

"What shall we do, Ned?" inquired Jack presently.

"Yes, Ned," put in Harry, with something very like a catch in his voice, "let's have your ideas. You are always ready with some suggestion in an emergency. What shall we do?"

"In the first place, boys," answered Ned, "I'm mighty glad to hear you ask questions like that. It shows me that you are ready for action instead of wanting to sit down and give way to despair. I'm ready for action this minute if I could only decide what should be done."

"I move we hunt around and find some guns and go hold that bunch of Germans up and take Jimmie away from them!" said Harry impulsively.

"Do you suppose the Captain will make good on his threat of making Jimmie enlist in their cavalry regiment?" asked Jack, ignoring Harry's suggestion. "If they do, can't he slip away some night?"

"What if he does?" inquired Harry. "Where would he slip to, and where shall we get to help him? It seems to me that every minute counts now. If they get him into a cavalry regiment they'll want to be on the move right away. At times like these, with Germany fighting the whole of Europe, they can't afford to let a regiment remain idle."

"That's very true," nodded Ned thoughtfully. "Germany has won a victory over Russia, and that may relieve some of her forces in the east, at least temporarily, until Russia gathers enough of an army to make another assault. In that case they might send the cavalry regiment toward the western front in Prance or Belgium, where Germany is meeting the French, English and other troops."

"Do you think they will make Jimmie go along and fight the allies?" questioned Jack. "If they do that, he may get killed."

"Perhaps that would suit the German Captain as well as anything else," observed Ned. "It would save him the trouble and responsibility of ordering the red-head shot immediately."

"Then in that case," continued Jack, "I second Harry's motion and hope it is carried unanimously. Let's get busy and get the boy."

"I think you are right," agreed Ned. "Now, if we can have some plan of action we'll be able to make more headway than without it."

"Right you are, Scout Master!" cried Jack. "What is your plan?"

"Well," began Ned, glancing at his comrades, "it seems almost too bold a thing to try just at first thought, but I can't think of anything better than to try to get away from this place in the Eagle, and then watch our chance to kidnap Jimmie from those fellows."

"A fine idea!" was Harry's almost cheerful response. "Ned, there's nothing too bold to try once, anyway. Maybe we can get Jimmie out of their hands. If we ever do-"

Harry's clenched first, which he shook at the door out of which the Germans had led Jimmie, spoke more eloquently than his unfinished sentence. Plainly he was ready for action.

"Let's slip out of here while we have a chance," suggested Ned.

"Just the thing!" agreed Jack. "It's the best time we'll ever find. The incoming army is pretty busy just now and won't see us."

With one accord the three lads moved toward the door. Ned glanced around the partially wrecked apartment in the hope of discovering something that would be of use to them in their endeavor to help Jimmie escape. An object in one corner caught his attention.

As Ned stepped forward to examine the object he had seen, he was startled to hear a cry from Jack, who had been looking from a window.

"Look!" cried the boy, pointing toward the street. "They're actually making Jimmie take an oath of enlistment!"

Quickly joining Jack, Ned and Harry saw Jimmie standing in the street, surrounded by German soldiers wearing the uniforms of Uhlans. Directly behind the lad stood one of the soldiers with the muzzle of a gun pressed against Jimmie's back. Before him an officer stood, apparently administering some form of oath. The three boys could see Jimmie's lips move in response to the prompting of the officer.

Directly the ceremony was ended and the soldiers turned as if preparing to mount their horses, standing near.

"There's a bunch coming back to this house!" declared Jack.

"Wonder what they want?" mused Harry in a puzzled manner.

"I think they have decided they want three more recruits!"

"Good night!" was the lad's startled ejaculation. "Let's go!"

"Come over here," directed Ned, springing toward a corner of the room. "I think I've found something that will help us out."

Harry and Jack hastened to cross the room strewn with wreckage left by the exploding shell. Ned was already kneeling in the corner.

"What is it, Ned?" cried Jack excitedly. "Have you got a gun?"

"No, not a gun," replied Ned in suppressed excitement, "but it may prove more useful than a gun at this time."

"Oh, I see what it is!" was Harry's exclamation. "Hurrah! We may be able to beat them out after all. Hurry!"

"Huh!" scornfully put in Jack. "Nothing but a trap door into the cellar! I wouldn't give much for that!"

Ned, without replying to either lad, was busily scraping away the refuse from the corner. Almost concealed by the litter, he had seen a huge ring in the floor and, naturally concluding that it was fitted into a trap door, had begun an investigation for the purpose of discovering if the door led to a passage that might afford a means of escape for the lads. The proximity of the approaching soldiers made their need of some haven of refuge an imperative one.

Presently Ned discovered the outlines of the trap door, which he had correctly surmised to be in that spot. The location of the debris favored the quick plan that had formulated in Ned's fertile brain. He rose to his feet and gave a quick glance about the room.

Without wasting time or effort in conversation, the lad quickly pointed toward a table that lay upturned not far from the trap door. Signalling to his comrades for assistance, he darted toward the object and began dragging it to a position directly over the trap door.

Jack and Harry, divining his intention, hastened to assist Ned. Their united efforts soon placed the table in position. It was the work of but a moment to raise the trap door and prop it up with a short piece of wood from the wreckage strewn about. Making the well-known signal used by railroad men in the United States as a sign for a fireman to shovel more coal into the firebox, Ned urged the others to descend into the darkness that yawned mysteriously at their feet.

Jack was first through the opening. He clung to the rim for a moment with his hands. Then he released his hold and dropped.

Harry and Ned, impatiently waiting for Jack to pass through the door, heard him drop to a floor below and give a startled cry. Then they prepared to follow just as the tramp of many feet resounded through the passage outside the room. Harry slipped into the opening and in turn dropped out of sight. Ned followed feet first and for an instant hung from the sill.

Grasping the stick that had been used as a prop, Ned gave a mighty wrench backward and fell. He said afterward that it seemed as if he had taken a full week to drop from his position to the floor below. In reality the drop was not a great one. The distance was, however, greater than the height of any of the three boys, and explained their inability to gain a foothold before releasing their hold upon the floor above. For a moment Ned was unable to regain his breath.

Presently he sat upright and began to search for his comrades.

"Jack, Harry!" he called softly. "Where are you?"

"Here we are, Ned," came a whisper from the darkness that shut the boys in on every hand. "Can you see us?"

"Can't see a thing!" declared Ned. "Where are you, anyway?"

"Stay right where you are and we'll be there in a moment," was Harry's answer. "This is one horrible place or I'm a Dutchman!"

"Come on, then, and be quick about it," urged Ned. "I wonder if we have dropped out of the frying pan into the fire," he added.

"Impossible," chuckled Jack, in spite of the seriousness of their predicament. "Where there's fire there's light, and I can't see a single ray of light in this miserable place!"

"Hush, Jack!" cautioned Harry. "Not so loud or they'll find us. Can't you hear them tramping about in the room above?"

Harry's question brought Ned and Jack to a realization of the fact that the room they had so recently quitted was occupied by the soldiers from whom they had tried to escape. Footsteps echoed along the stout floor, and the boys could hear sounds indicating that pieces of furniture were being hurriedly overturned.

"Uh!" grunted Jack as he suddenly bumped into Ned. "Wonder you wouldn't blow signals when you're going to cross ahead of a fellow."

"Hush!" whispered Ned. "They may hear us! Let's wait a bit!"

All three boys drew close together. They instinctively clasped hands in the darkness, looking for some degree of comfort in the act.

The noises above them gradually lessened. Presently they ceased altogether, and the boys could hear footsteps clattering along the floor in the direction they assumed the door to be. Directly quiet reigned in the place.

"They've gone, I guess," Ned said after a moment's wait. "Now what shall we do? Shall we climb back into the house?"

"I move that we explore this apartment first," said Jack.

"Oh, no!" urged Harry. "This isn't a nice place to go poking around in. We have troubles enough already without hunting more."

"What's your objection to looking the place over?" asked Ned.

"Rats!" was Harry's brief but expressive explanation.

"Rats?" queried Ned. "What do you mean? Are there rats here?"

"There certainly are, and lots of them," was the positive answer. "When I dropped into this place I think I dropped onto one, and must have crushed him before he had time to squeal. I heard others running."

"We really ought to make a light," returned Ned. "We can't tell what the place is like without some way of seeing it."

"There's a light!" was Jack's sudden exclamation. "See it over there to the right. Why," he added, "there are two lights!"

"And I see others!" cried Harry. "I believe it's the eyes of the rats. Perhaps they were frightened away and are coming back."

"Have you any matches?" asked Ned. "I haven't a one with me. It's careless, I know, but not a match can I find in my pockets."

"Where's your searchlight?" inquired Jack. "Haven't you that?"

"No; the Germans took that away from me when they searched us."

"I have two matches," said Harry, "but I don't want to waste them. Perhaps it will be a long time before we get any more, and I feel that we ought to save them if possible."

"Maybe we can find some stuff here dry enough to make a fire with, and that'll give us light!" suggested Jack.

"Good idea!" responded Ned. "The place feels dry enough."

"Let's keep hold of hands and move slowly about," put in Harry. "In that way we won't be separated and may find just what we want."

Acting on this suggestion, the boys clasped hands and moved slowly about, feeling their way cautiously with their feet. They seemed to be in a cellar with a solid stone floor that had been made quite smooth.

"Here's something!" exclaimed Harry as his foot struck a small object. "This feels like a piece of wood."

"Here's my knife; let's whittle some shavings," offered Jack.

In a short time the boy had succeeded in producing the desired shavings from the board Harry had discovered. Gathering these carefully in his hands, he held them ready to receive the flame from Harry's match. All three lads eagerly gathered closer together as Harry prepared to strike the match that would give them the desired ability to see. Harry's hand trembled a trifle in spite of his effort at self-control. His first effort was unsuccessful.

"Careful, Harry," admonished Ned. "Better strike it on your shoe sole. That makes a better match scratcher than your trousers."

"Correct!" observed Jack. "And go easy," he added. "We have only two, you know. If anything should happen, you understand-"

"Yes, I know," answered Harry. "That's why I'm trying to be extra careful. I'm just as anxious for a light as you are."

"The rats are coming closer," observed Jack, a slight quaver perceptible in his voice. "I don't want them to start anything."

"All right now, Harry; lean on me a bit to balance yourself," urged Ned. "Make sure this time, and get it in your cupped hands."

"Here goes!" announced Harry, lifting one foot and striking the match upon the sole of his shoe. "Here comes the light!"

But, contrary to expectations, the light did not come, although the lad tried again and again.

"Try the other match, Harry; maybe this one got wet somehow and won't work," suggested Jack, stepping closer.

"I have tried them both," declared Harry in a faint voice.

"What's the matter, then?" demanded Jack excitedly.

"I guess they are those safety matches that will light only on the box," was Harry's explanation. "I haven't the box, either," he added in a voice scarcely above a whisper. "It's no go, boys!"

"Look through all your pockets," directed Ned, "and see if there isn't a scrap of box left by oversight. We must have a light!"

Frantically the three boys searched their pockets, but could discover no shred or vestige of a box on which to strike the impregnated safety matches held by Harry. At length they gave up the effort.

"That's peculiar!" declared Jack with emphasis. "Just think of all the matches used every day in the United States by thousands and thousands of people who never think of saving them. We have used a whole lot of matches ourselves needlessly, and now we want just one as badly as we ever wanted anything. It's fierce!"

"It surely is fierce," agreed Ned, "but we'll have to make the best of it. It seems peculiar, too," he went on, "that the rats haven't begun anything. They seem to be all about us."

"Yes, but they are not moving about very fast," observed Harry. "Maybe they 're afraid of us yet. Let's make a noise and scare them."

"How shall we do it?" asked Jack. "What will you make a noise with if you haven't anything to use? Tell me that!"

"Stamp on the floor good and hard; that'll scare them."

"All right; here goes!" agreed Jack, suiting the action to the word.

All three boys were startled at the result of Jack's stamping. A crackling sound was heard, followed by a tiny spurt of flame from the floor under his foot.

"Easy there, easy!" cried Harry, dropping to his knees. "That's just what we wanted. Don't move now, but give me those shavings!"

With trembling hands the lad took the shavings from Jack's hand. Carefully shielding the tiny flame from possible draughts of air, the boy held the point of one of the thin pieces of wood over the flare. In a moment it had caught fire. Licking up the curl, the flame gradually leaped from one piece of wood to another until the entire handful was ablaze. The dancing light played upon the three faces and sent a glow out into the surrounding blackness. Harry deposited the burning shavings upon the floor, where the fire was soon transmitted to the larger piece of wood Jack had used in whittling.

As the boys saw that the matter of fire was assured, they glanced first at each other, then let their gaze wander about the apartment.

"Goodness, the rats don't seem to be much afraid of fire!" exclaimed Jack, pointing toward a horde of rodents swarming about the place.

"What's that on them?" asked Harry wonderingly.

"I declare it's red!" exclaimed Ned. "It looks like blood!"

"Where'd they get blood from, I'd like to know!" protested Harry.

"There's only one answer to that just now, with all the dead and wounded soldiers about," answered Ned, shaking his head. "It's awful!"

"Let's get out of here as quick as we can," urged Jack. "Come on."

With one accord the lads turned from the swarm of rats.

"Where are you going?" demanded a strange voice from the darkness.

"Who are you?" asked Ned, startled by the sudden question.

"Maybe I'm a friend," was the answer. "Yes, I guess I am."

When the soldier who had been holding his rifle at Jimmie's back lowered the weapon and the ceremony of administering the oath of allegiance to the Kaiser had been completed, the red-headed Boy Scout who had been masquerading under a Cossack uniform breathed a deep sigh of relief that but faintly expressed his sentiments.

In spite of the seriousness of the situation, Jimmie maintained a mental reservation that little less than contradicted his words so recently spoken. He felt that it would be only policy to obey the orders of those in superior force, since he could see no advantage to be gained by a flat refusal. His thoughts rapidly compassed the situation, and he recognized the fact that the invading horde of Germans were in no mood to consider dispassionately the matter of a boy more or less who was found under the circumstances in which they had discovered Jimmie.

Reluctantly, therefore, but because he thought it by far the better plan, the lad had submitted to the course insisted upon.

During all the time that he had been repeating the words after the officer the boy had been mentally conjecturing a means of escape whereby he might rejoin his chums and be fairly sure of the escape of the entire party from the hands of the army that had so recently captured Peremysl and who were now engaged in bringing order out of the apparent chaos that reigned.

Not until the searching party returned and reported to the Captain their unsuccessful quest after his three comrades did Jimmie realize that an effort was being made to apprehend them.

Then he began to believe that it was not the intention of the German Captain to allow the boys to leave the country. The thought was a very disquieting one. In entertaining it, Jimmie felt himself fully justified in taking any possible course of escape.

"Well, my lad," began the Captain, addressing Jimmie in a not unkindly tone, the while his blue eyes regarded the lad with an amused glance, "now that you are a full-fledged Uhlan and your comrades are on their way home, you will be fitted out with a new uniform by the proper department. See that you select a good strong one, for we have plenty of rough work ahead of us. Yes?"

"Very good, sir!" replied Jimmie with outward politeness, although his heart was filled with rage at the thought of donning the German uniform. "I shall try to do well whatever I undertake."

"Spoken like a man!" declared the officer with a short laugh.

A brief order spoken in the German language to an orderly nearby resulted in that individual signing to Jimmie. Obediently the lad followed his new guide. Past groups of soldiers who were, by their fair hair, round cheeks, blue eyes and general stocky build, members of the German army, the boy and his conductor took their way.

Not far down the street they came upon several wagons in charge of a commissioned officer, before whom the guide stopped with a very formal salute. After receiving a recognition of his salute the guide explained his errand. A laughing response greeted his explanation of circumstances. The officer called one of his aides, and the work of outfitting the erstwhile Cossack began.

Jimmie discovered that the wagons were veritable stores on wheels, and was greatly surprised at the neatness and order with which the large assortment of goods were disposed. No difficulty was experienced in securing clothing of the proper dimensions, and Jimmie soon stood forth to all external appearances as loyal and brave a Uhlan as ever followed the banner of the Emperor or stuck a lance into a dummy at riding exercise. He could not restrain a laugh at the peculiar round cap that was fitted to his head.

"Now I'm hungry!" he declared as he surveyed himself in his new regalia. "Where's the eats?" he asked of the guide.

A stare from a pair of pale blue eyes was the only response.

"I say," began Jimmie in a louder tone, "I haven't had anything to eat for a long time. I'm hungry!" he finished in a shout.

Another stare and a nod of the head greeted this outburst.

"Aw, come off!" was Jimmied disgusted sally. "Where are your ears? Wake up! It's six bells and the cook has struck. Here-"

Seizing the guide by the sleeve, Jimmie shook his finger under the other's nose for attention. Then he repeated his old-time universal sign language denoting hunger.

The guide followed with great interest Jimmie's motion of pointing into his open mouth and gazed delightedly at the patting of the stomach. Apparently, however, he could discover nothing amiss with the belt buckle or any of the accoutrements that adorned the person of the new-found recruit. He shook his head in a negative way.

"Oh, you mutton-head!" scorned Jimmie. Then, recalling the few words of German he had learned in haphazard fashion, he began again, pausing between each word to give emphasis to his request.

"Ach, Ich say, old scout," he stated, "Ich would like some brodt haben, und sauer kraut, und wiener wurst, and kaffee, and pumpernickel, und kaffekuchen, und Kolbfleisch, und-oh, whatever you have handy."

A smile slowly spread over the face of the guide as he began to comprehend Jimmie's meaning. He nodded vigorously.

"And I say, dumbhead, Heute Ganse Braten!" Jimmie added vigorously. "There!" he declared in an undertone, "I know I saw that sign in Dick Stein's restaurant on the north side in Chicago one time when I was there, and I asked the man what it meant. He said it was German for 'We have roast goose to-day,' and I'd like a little of that, too."

"So-o," drawled the guide. "Und you haf been by Stein's restaurant? Yes? Vell, I vas waiter dere for two, tree year. It is a nice blace."

"You rascal!" shouted Jimmie. "You understood me all the time. Why didn't you let me know you understood English at first?"

"Maype I didn't understand," the other stated simply.

"Maybe you didn't, and again maybe you did," retorted the lad rather tartly. "If you keep on playing your monkey shines on me, you'll get me sore pretty soon, and I'll be tempted to cloud up and rain all over you. And there'll be considerable dunder und blitzen along with the cyclonic disturbance in the atmosphere," he added.

"All right," was the calm response. "You iss hungry. Maybe you vant someding to eat. Yes? Or maybe not?"

"Great frozen hot boxes!" cried Jimmie in a despairing tone. "I don't see how, with all the scarcity of ivory in the market, the billiard ball makers let you roam about at large so long. Why," he added with rising indignation, "you're giving the exact symptoms of a chap who is ossified from the shoulders to the sky! Of course I want to eat, and I'd be de-lighted to perform that simple operation now."

"But to eat before mess, it is verboten," declared the guide.

"Say," retorted Jimmie, "just let me have your name and the address of any relatives you want notified in case of accident. Something is going to blow up pretty soon, and when the explosion is over they'll go around with a sponge to gather up the pieces of the innocent bystanders. Among those present was a former waiter at Dick Stein's."

"Ach, yes," slowly replied the other. "My name iss Otto von Freundlich. In America I am called Friendly Otto. It iss so in der telephone book. Names iss backwards put down."

"Well, if you'll just be good enough to get me one of those nice large German pancakes that we used to get at Stein's, with a couple of cups of coffee and a little 'T' bone steak well done, with some fried potatoes and a side order of cauliflower in cream, some cold slaw, a little lettuce, some lentils, and a small platter of sauer kraut, I'll try to worry along until mess time. Can't we eat at all?"

"No, not all of dot," soberly responded Otto seriously, evidently believing that Jimmie intended to eat everything he had mentioned.

"Then for pity's sake tell me what I can have. I'm getting so hungry I could almost eat the wheels off this wagon."

"Maybe a little soup und some rye bread?" replied Otto inquiringly.

"That listens good to your Uncle Dudley," was Jimmie's response in a somewhat mollified tone. "Lead me to it and I'll do the rest."

"Come," directed Otto, starting away and beckoning the lad to follow. "Come; der cook maybe has something good for hungry soldiers."

Jimmie followed with much interest, taking note of everything as he went along. Here he saw a group of soldiers resting after some evidently heavy work. There another group were arranging their accoutrements and polishing their weapons as they rested in the shade of a broken wall that had withstood the heavy hammering of the immense German guns during the days of bombardment of the city.

Wagons were drawn up along the side of the street, gasoline trucks were darting hither and thither on various errands, while small groups of horsemen were constantly passing to and fro about the town.

Everywhere was activity, indicating to Jimmie that not only were the Germans investing the city and preparing it for their occupation, but that other preparations were under way. This could only mean to the lad that the commander of the invading forces was preparing to press the advantage he had gained by following the Russian army he had driven from Peremysl and attempt to administer a crushing blow.

"What is all this bustle about, Otto?" he asked presently.

"Ach, I know not," was the reply. "Und if I should know, it is verboten that I should say. You will discover in good time."

"That's all right, but I'll bet my last year's hat that you know pretty well what's going on if you'd only talk a bit."

"That is perhaps so and perhaps not so," replied Otto.

"All right; I vote yes on the amendment," persisted Jimmie, feeling that by a little maneuvering he could learn something from his guide. "From what the Captain said while we were in the house and you were on the street, I understand that your regiment will be one of the first to be tolled off to pursue the Russians. Maybe he'll send me with them. I do hope so, for that will give me a chance to get a whack at them in payment for the hard treatment I received."

"Ach, nein!" protested Otto, evidently endeavoring to set Jimmie right. "My regiment is to return. We have done our work here."

"I thought so all the time," muttered Jimmie. "You may have been in America a while, but you haven't got wise to the great game of 'bluff' the Americans pull off once in a while. You're easy."

"What is dot?" inquired Otto. "I did not hear what you say."

"I say," replied Jimmie in a louder tone, "I'm hungry. I want something to eat, and I'm curious to know what is in that bundle you are carrying so carefully. Is it dynamite or something?"

"Nein; it is the Russian Cossack uniform you wore. I shall burn it when we arrive at the kitchen you see ahead of us."

"Oh, so you don't like Cossack uniforms any better than I do."

"It is orders," was the German's simple statement.

"Well, here we are at the cook's place," announced Jimmie as the two drew near a movable kitchen equipment in the street.

A few words addressed to the person in charge of the kitchen brought forth a smiling response. In a moment Jimmie was supplied with a small dish of nourishing stew of cabbages and beans.

He devoured the contents of the dish with an appetite, and gladly accepted the cup of black unsweetened coffee that was tendered.

"Thank you! That was just like mother used to make!" he said as he returned the empty dish and cup. "I'll see you again."

Jimmie stepped back a pace, preparing to follow Otto, presuming that he would lead the way to regimental headquarters.

As he glanced about in search of his guide he discovered the German stuffing the discarded Cossack uniform into the furnace underneath a huge kettle. With a startled cry Jimmie grasped frantically at his breast. Then he darted forward and snatched the clothing from the fire.