Chapter 8

COLONEL PAVET REAPPEARS

The Army boys thought over the situation in some perplexity.

"What do you suppose we ought to do?" asked Bart.

"We ought to go hotfoot to the captain and tell him what we've seen," declared Tom with emphasis.

"I hardly like to do that," objected Billy. "At least not at this stage of the game. After all, we haven't any positive proof against Nick. His handkerchief might have dropped accidentally. And the knocking of the butt of his gun against the door could have happened without his meaning anything by it. He could explain his going around the hut by saying he wanted to be especially vigilant in guarding the prisoner."

"Yes," agreed Frank, "we haven't proof enough against Rabig to hang a yellow dog. And I wouldn't want to get him in bad with his officers on mere suspicion."

"That note might be proof if we could only get hold of it," suggested Tom.

"Swell chance!" returned Bart. "You can bet that note is chewed up and swallowed by this time. The first thing the Hun thought of, when he was tipped off that some one was coming, was to get rid of the evidence that might queer his chance of escape."

"I'll tell you what we'll do," said Frank. "We'll just go down and see Rabig and ask him casually about the prisoner. That may make him think that we're on to something, and if he's planning to do anything crooked it may scare him off. It won't do any harm anyway, and we'll take a chance."

They left the clump of trees and strolled down carelessly in the direction of the hut.

Rabig saw them coming, and the surly look that was habitual with him became more pronounced than usual. There was no love lost between him and any of them. He had been thoroughly unpopular in Camport because of his bullying nature even before the outbreak of the war, and his evident leaning toward Germany had deepened this feeling.

Since he had been drafted, he had of course kept his pro-German views to himself, for he valued his skin and had no desire to face a firing squad. But his work had been done grudgingly, and his disposition to shirk had more than once gained him short terms in the guardhouse.

Of all the group approaching him he most heartily disliked Frank. In the first place, Frank had never permitted him to bully him when they were with Moore & Thomas, and the two had been more than once on the brink of a fight. And since the boxing bout in the camp, when he had tried foul tactics and Frank had thrashed him thoroughly, his venom toward his conqueror had been more bitter than ever.

The boys stopped when they reached the front of the hut.

"Hello, Rabig!" they greeted him.

"Hello!" responded Rabig, still keeping up his pacing.

"Right on the job, I see," remarked Bart, pleasantly enough.

"Your eyesight's mighty good," replied Nick sullenly.

"Yes," Bart came back at him, "I can see a bit of white paper from quite a distance."

Rabig gave a sudden start.

"What do you mean by that?" he demanded.

"Nothing special," replied Bart carelessly. "What should I mean?"

"By the way," put in Tom, "you'd better tuck your handkerchief in a little more tightly or you'll lose it. It looks as though it were almost ready to drop out."

"What if it does?" snarled Rabig. "I could pick it up again, couldn't I?"

"Of course you could," said Tom, "but you might pick up something else with it. Dust, or a bit of paper, or something like that."

"Say, what's the matter with you guys anyway?" demanded Rabig, glowering at them.

"That looks like quite a solid door," remarked Frank, inspecting it critically.

"Oh, I don't know," responded Billy. "It's got dents in it. Here's one that looks as though it were made by a rifle butt."

Rabig looked at them angrily, and yet furtively, evidently seeking to find out how much their remarks meant.

"You fellows had better get along," he snapped. "You're interfering with discipline by talking to a sentry on guard."

Rabig's newborn reverence for discipline amused the boys so that they had hard work to repress a laugh.

"You're right," responded Frank. "We'll mosey along."

"Ta-ta, Rabig," said Bart. "Keep your eye peeled for any Hun trick. That fellow nearly got me yesterday with his knife, and he might try to play the same game on you."

"Don't you worry," growled Rabig. "I can take care of myself."

The chums passed on, laughing and talking about indifferent things, until they were out of ear shot.

"We've got him guessing," remarked Billy with a grin.

"We managed to put a flea in his ear," agreed Tom.

"Did you see how red he got?" questioned Bart.

"He sure is wondering how much we know," summed up Frank. "Whether it will make him go straight or not is another question. What we fellows ought to do is to take turns keeping tab on him, so that he can't act crooked even if he wants to." "It's a pity there should be any men in the American army whom we have to watch," said Tom bitterly.

"Yes, but that's to be expected," returned Frank. "There's never been an army in the history of the world that hasn't been infected with traitors more or less."

"Look at Benedict Arnold," remarked Billy.

"To my mind, it's surprising that there aren't more," said Frank. "That's what the Kaiser was counting on. He thought that the German element in America was so strong that we wouldn't dare to go to war with him. Do you remember what he told Gerard? That 'there were five hundred thousand Germans in America who would revolt'?"

"Yes," grinned Billy, "and I remember how Gerard came back at him with the 'five hundred thousand lamp-posts on which we'd hang them if they did.'"

They were out on the main road by this time, and they stepped to one side and saluted, as an officer in French uniform, accompanied by an orderly, came galloping along.

The officer's eye swept the group as he returned the salute, and when it rested on Frank he drew up his horse so suddenly that the beast sat back on its haunches.

The officer threw himself from the horse's back, cast the reins to his orderly, and came impetuously toward the astonished Army boys with his hand extended to Frank.

"Monsieur Sheldon!" he exclaimed, his face beaming. "_Mon brave Americain. Le sauveur de ma vie._"

"Colonel Pavet!" cried Frank with equal pleasure, as he took the extended hand.

"Yes," replied the newcomer, "Colonel Pavet, alive and well, thanks to you. Ah, I shall never forget the night when I lay wounded on the battlefield and you climbed out of the trench and made your way through a storm of bullets and shells to my side and carried me back to safety. It was the deed of a hero, a modern d'Artagnan! How glad I am to see you again!"

"And I to see you" responded Frank warmly. "You were so dreadfully wounded that I feared you might not recover."

They were talking in French, which Frank spoke like a native, thanks to his French mother, and the other boys saluted and passed on, leaving the two together.

"If we had not met, I would have searched you out," went on the colonel, "for I have some news for you. News that both you and your mother will be glad to hear."

"My mother," repeated Frank, his eyes kindling and his heart responding, as it never failed to do at the mention of that dear mother of his, who in her lonely home across the sea was waiting and praying for him.