Part 5

There was no need for silence now. The boys heard a stumble as though someone had crashed over some obstruction. The door behind them was flung open. Swift feet pursued them.

"Hope the door's open!" gasped Porky, as he ran fleetly on up the uneven, winding passage.

In the office above there had been an anxious period. Two members of a staff, even though they are only boys, cannot disappear as though the earth had swallowed them without a suspicion of foul play. When General Pershing received the report, he at once sent couriers and scouts to every station where the boys might have gone. On being questioned, the sentries one and all declared that the two boys had not been seen outside of the building. This resulted in a combing out of every cranny that could possibly hold a boy alive or dead.

The hours dragged on. There was a continual passing to and fro for hours until at last there seemed to be absolutely nothing more to do until morning. The tired staff threw themselves into the office chairs, while the General, at the typewriter, commenced a letter. Out of respect to him, there was a complete silence in the room.

On and on clicked the typewriter while the waiting men dozed or smoked or thought of home.

"What's that?" said one of them suddenly, listening intently.

The General stopped writing and looked at the speaker.

"What's what?" questioned a captain, frowning.

"That tapping," said the first speaker. "Sounds like _code_."

"You have been asleep," said the captain, grinning.

"I hear it," said the General.

There was a general gathering up of forces, as the whole room tried to place the faint, monotonous tapping.

"The call for help!" said the first speaker triumphantly. "I _knew_ I heard it. The code is my native language almost. It sounds as though some one was calling from below the floor."

"Send an answer, Lieutenant Reed!" ordered the General.

The young officer obeyed, while his hearers listened breathlessly. Tap-tap went the spurred heel, dash and dot, dash and dot in many combinations.

The reply followed swiftly. The Lieutenant, rather pale, turned to the General. "It's the boys!" he reported. "They are together, in a closed chamber,--a dungeon, I take it--right below us. They are in danger. Don't say what. Something about spies and dynamite. Want help instantly."

"How?" asked the General

"There's a secret door in the oak panel in the hall. They gave directions for opening it."

"Go at once, six of you--you six nearest the door!" The officers designated rose.

"Rush!" said Lieutenant Reed crisply. For the moment he was in command. He alone knew how to open the panel. They hurried outside, where Reed felt swiftly but carefully in the place described by Porky. Twice he went over the heavy carving, pushing here and there unavailingly. Then without a sound the secret door opened and before any one could enter the passage that yawned in inky blackness before them, there was a rush of running feet and the two boys, carrying Beany's coat between them, bolted into the hall. Porky made a motion for silence, and listened.

There was no sound.

"Somebody chased us!" he panted. "Somebody was close behind us in the dark!"

"Men?" asked an officer in an excited whisper.

Porky wanted to say "No, sir, _rabbits_!" but he knew that every one felt nervous and edgy and, besides, he did not want to be disrespectful to the officer who had spoken.

"They came in through the other door," he said. "A door at the other end of the passage that is on the other side of the two big rooms down below there."

"Let's go down," said one of the men, loosening his revolver.

"Please don't try it!" begged Beany. "We could never get down without light and then they would have the drop on us. It's no use now. Besides, they could go out of that outside door without the least trouble after they had shot us all up."

"The kid is right," said Lieutenant Reed. "He knows how the land lies down there. Come up to the General, boys, and make a report. He will tell us what he wants done."

Sliding the panel shut, the Lieutenant called a guard and, leaving the hallway patrolled by a couple of stalwart Americans, the group surrounding the two boys entered the office and saluted the General.

General Pershing bent his serious, keen gaze on the boys, then a bright, sudden smile lighted the strong, handsome face that had grown sad and still in the troubled, anxious months at the front.

"Always up to something, boys," he said. "Well, your friend the Colonel warned me how it would be. Now suppose you tell me all about it."

Beany with a sigh of relief lifted his blouse and deposited it on the table. It struck the surface with a clank and as he pulled the cloth away a regular flood of gold pieces covered the papers where the General had been writing.

"Part of the story, sir," said Beany. And then talking together, or taking turns, as the spirit moved them, the boys pieced out the account of their adventures. The part that Beany kept harking back to was the presence of the prisoners in the big room. He described carefully and accurately the appearance of the young soldier and told as well as he could about the limp, unconscious girl who had been carried out into the dark garden. Beany shuddered as he spoke.

"I am sure the girl was dead, sir. She laid there for hours, I guess, and she never moved at all, never batted an eyelash. And she was white.... I never saw anybody so white. It was as though all her blood had been drained out of her."

"Was she wounded?" asked the General.

"She must have been, sir," answered Beany. "I saw blood, just a little of it running down her wrist under her sleeve. She had nice clothes on, and I had a hunch all the time that I ought to know who she was; but I couldn't tell. Wish we knew what they did with them. When it comes light, General, I can show you just where the door is. I am sure I know where it opens."

"It is light now," said the General, pointing to the window. Every one looked. Sure enough, the whole sky was a mass of pale gold and pink and greenish blue, as lovely and soft and joyous as though the distant rumble of the big guns was not shaking the casement as they spoke. It was light; morning had come.

The General ordered coffee and rolls and insisted on both boys eating something. They were tired and heavy eyed but excited at the thought of unraveling perhaps a little more of the mystery of the past night.

When at last the General dismissed them with a few terse orders, they sped ahead of their escort through the silent garden, fearless and curious and unconscious of the careful marksmen who followed, protecting each foot of their advance.

Beany had spoken the truth. With the sureness of a young hound he took his way through a wilderness of stones and bricks and beams and plaster through the tangled, torn old garden, and round to a spot marked by what seemed to be a clump of dense bushes like low growing lilacs. Approaching this, Beany parted the branches and peered in. Then he drew back with a cry of horror.

"Look!" he whispered.

It was indeed the ambush set over the outside entrance to the dungeons. Down in the depths of the hole that yawned under the encircling bushes something was tumbled in a pitiful, distorted heap. Eagerly a half dozen men leaped down and with careful hands straightened out the two forms lying in the bloody ooze. One after the other they were lifted to the surface.

The man was quite dead but the girl still lived, though breathing feebly.

Placing her on an improvised stretcher, a couple of the men hurried away with her to the hospital while a couple more knelt beside the dead boy and searched carefully through his torn and blood-stained clothing for papers, letters--anything that could be used as clues to his identity. There was not a scrap left to guide them. The young officer's pockets had been turned inside out. Even the hems in his tunic and breeches had been slit and the soles had been torn from his shoes. If there had been papers of any sort secreted about him, they were gone--carried away by the ruthless hands that had slain him.

Leaving a guard beside the body, the others leaped boldly into the shallow pit and lifted the heavy bar which held the massive nail-studded oaken door. It opened inward, and Beany led the way through the passage into the chamber where he had sat bound, gagged and waiting for the relentless hands of the clock to reach the moment of his doom. He showed the device, and then, lighting the stubs of candles, they went into the inner room. The dungeons were dark as midnight, even in the clear morning light.

A careful search was made of the rooms. They stamped on the floors, rapped on the walls with pistol butts, ripped up the silken covers and the thick mattresses, but found nothing. The men finally stopped their search, and gathered in a group around the massive table. Beany, sitting on the edge of the table, jounced up and down and thought that he had never seen a piece of furniture quite so solid. He took out a penknife and tried to whittle the edge but the keen blade scarcely made an impression on the ironwood seasoned for ages. Porky, watching his brother, listened to the conversation.

"Somewhere down here there is a hiding place for papers or money, or perhaps both," said one of the officers, a keen-faced, thoughtful man, studying the room as he could see it in the flickering light of the two candles which, now burned down to the merest stubs, afforded a dim, uncertain light.

"We have given it a pretty thorough combing over," said another officer, frowning.

"I can't help it," stubbornly answered the other. "It is in just such places as this where valuable secrets are often hidden."

"What about the dynamite?" demanded some one else. "It does not seem as though they would hide anything of any value to themselves in a spot that they were willing to blow up."

"A bomb that size would not have wrecked this room. Did you notice the thickness of the walls?"

The talk went on while Beany whittled and pried away industriously at the table edge. He found a crack in the wood and pried his knife blade into that. The blade entered in a tantalizing manner, slipped smoothly along, then struck metal. Beany pushed. Porky, who was watching, came closer and peered down the crack. Beany pushed harder, pushed as hard as he could, and suddenly felt himself flung off the table as the big top flew up and hurled him aside.

Powerful springs had opened the two heavy slabs of oak that formed the table. Two pieces now stood open like a pair of doors and within lay a long, flat box which completely filled the space. The box was of iron, heavily barred and padlocked. Four soldiers pried it from its place and, escorted by the whole party, it was carried to General Pershing, still working at his desk.

Once more the boys had unearthed a mystery.

*CHAPTER VIII*

*THE CELLAR'S SECRET*

Porky and Beany were too tired to care what happened next and, taking quick advantage of a brief smile and nod of dismissal from the General, they made their way to their quarters and soon were as sound asleep as though they were lying on the softest down. They slept and slept, losing all track of time, and by the General's orders were undisturbed. When they finally woke, really wide awake, they found that a whole day and a night had passed since the early dawn when they had staggered off to bed.

They woke at the same instant, as was their habit, and sitting bolt upright, stared unblinkingly at the young officer sitting at the window writing.

"Morning, Lieutenant," said Porky, rubbing his eyes.

"What's the time, sir?" said Beany, looking curiously at his wrist watch.

"Yours stopped too?" asked Porky. "Mine has. Funny!"

"Not so very funny," said Lieutenant Parker, closing his writing tablet. "You have been asleep since yesterday morning, and I imagine the watches ran down."

"Yesterday morning!" gasped Porky. "Why didn't some one call us?"

"General's orders," said the Lieutenant. He laughed, "Gee, I wish he would order me to bed for a week. You can bet I would go!"

"Well, it makes me mad to sleep like this," said Porky in irritation. "What all have we missed, anyhow?"

"Nothing much," said the Lieutenant. "The biggest drive of the war is on and to-morrow General Pershing with his staff will make the trip along the front line trenches. I hope he counts me in on that."

"You liked to be in the trenches, didn't you?" asked Porky, stooping to lace his puttees.

"You are right I did," said Lieutenant Parker, wrinkling his smooth young forehead. "I came over to fight, and it was just my luck to get this measly scratch on my head, and blamed if they didn't put me here in this office doing paper work!"

"Well, you got to give your skull time to get well, haven't you?" asked Beany. "It was cracked, wasn't it?"

"No, just a piece scooped out of it," said the Lieutenant in a bored tone.

The boys grinned. Lieutenant Parker was one of the best friends they had, and they had learned that nothing teased him like being quizzed about the deep, palpitating scar that creased his dark head, the truth being that he had received the wound in an encounter that had won him the coveted French war cross with the palms. Porky and Beany considered modesty in others little less than a sin. They were always so thirsty for tales of blood and glory that they could not see why any one should hesitate to tell every possible detail of any adventure. It happened, strangely enough, that they did not apply the same rule to their own conduct. To get details out of the Potter twins was, as their own father said, like drawing nails out of a green oak board, accompanied by screeches of protest. The boys had had the Lieutenant's story, however, and they harked back to the news of the day.

"I am going on that hike," said Porky, standing up and stamping himself comfortably into his clothes.

"So'm I," said his brother, likewise stamping.

"Try for something else, kid," said the Lieutenant. "You can't get in on this. It is strictly staff."

"Watch me!" said young Porky, the cocksure. He hurried to the door and disappeared, while Beany, a trifle slower in his dressing, roared, "Wait for me!"

A muttered response of some sort was the only satisfaction given.

Beany grinned. "He is always so sudden!" he complained, addressing the Lieutenant.

"Might as well stay here until he comes back. I never like to butt in on Porky's talky-talks. He most generally knows what he wants to say, and he don't need any help in getting it out of his system. I certainly hope we can go with the General. You are always yelling about that old silver plate you have on your topknot. Look at us: seems like we just can't get into a trench. Honest Injun, I'm so sick of this old chateau--"

"I never did see such a pair!" said Lieutenant Parker. "Didn't you have enough of an adventure the other night to last you two or three days?"

He was going on, when Porky burst into the room. He threw up his hat.

"Better, much better than I ever hoped," he crowed.

"Hand it out!" demanded Beany anxiously.

"Why, I was going to give the General a great line of talk, and I didn't have a chance to do a thing but salute. He was talking to a French officer and the minute he went out, the General just said, 'All right to-day, young man?' I said, 'Yes, sir,' and he said, 'No time to talk! Report in the courtyard to-morrow morning five-thirty, field equipment, for special duty with my staff.'

"I saluted again and turned to come out, and the General said, 'Potter, this is in the way of a reward for that little affair in the dungeons,' and I said, 'Thank you, sir, but the pleasure was all ours, sir,' and he said, 'No, not quite all; because some of the papers you unearthed _WILL HELP TO TURN THE TIDE_.' How's that, old Beans, _will help to turn the tide_. Gosh! you did it with your little penknife, didn't you?"

"Well, never mind that," said Beany, wriggling. "Don't you know anything about this trip to-morrow?"

"Nary word," said Porky, "but why should we worry? Main fact is clear, we are going to be among those present."

The boys spent a restless day getting their traveling equipment in order and taking it apart again to put it together in some way they fancied would make an eighth of an inch difference in some of its dimensions. They strutted a little perhaps. It was truly a wonderful thing to go with General Pershing on a trip of that sort. They marveled at their good luck.

That good luck had hinged entirely on their ability to keep their own counsel. That desire some have to tell all they know, a lot that they guess, and a few things that they fear, did not exist in the Potter twins. They could keep a secret without being told to, and that's some test. Whatever they overheard was safe. When they saw things that were not intended for their eyes, they ignored them, or made an effort to forget all about them. This high sense of what was honorable and right was noticed immediately by the General as well as by others whom they met daily.

So they spent the long day patting each other on the back, and wondering at their great good fortune.

They kept closely to the rooms frequented by the officers. As Porky pointed out to his brother, there was one old lady at least who was not wasting any love on them, and they didn't want to give her a chance to turn a key on them and spoil all their fun. They had at least gained a little caution, but how very little the trip was going to show.

It was barely five next morning when Porky and Beany, like two shadows, slipped from their quarters and went silently down to the courtyard. Several automobiles stood ready, heavily guarded, and a couple of mechanics were busily tightening nuts and testing various parts of the machinery. No one spoke. The boys crossed the open space, and in accordance with an agreement made previously, sat down back to back on a ledge of the broken fountain. They were taking no risks of surprise or attack from the rear. Silently the minutes passed. The steady tramp of the sentries and the grating of metal on metal as the mechanics worked quietly on the cars made so little sound that distant noises were loud and acute.

The guns of the enemy had been silent for twelve hours. Even Porky and Beany sensed something big and terrible in the air.

"Want to bet something!" asked Porky, poking his brother with a backhand jab in the ribs.

He never found out whether Beany was game to bet or not for the door of the chateau opened and a group of officers came out. General Pershing led the group. The boys leaped to salute, the sentries stopped and presented arms. Even the mechanics straightened to their feet. There was perfect quiet, however, and five minutes later they started away full speed in the darkness. On and on they went, passing first through a country which showed very little of the effects of war. It was a sort of spur that had escaped the enemy's assaults in the beginning of the struggle, and which, since the arrival of millions of Americans, had been lying too far behind the lines to suffer.

The sun rose: it was day. They stopped in the shelter of a dense grove and breakfasted on the provisions put up for them by the cooks back at headquarters. While they ate the drivers of the cars watched the clear morning skies for airplanes. The sandwiches and coffee, boiling hot in big thermos bottles, tasted good to the hungry boys, although they were eaten in silence, and in silence the journey was continued. Now they commenced to see signs of the frightful struggle. First great shell craters, then trees uprooted or hacked down, and village after village lying a mere mass of wreckage. There were worse things too; sad reminders that made the boys turn pale with horror.

The stop for dinner was made the occasion of a careful examination of all the parts of the cars, as any accident in the next few miles might be most dangerous and disastrous. One of the aides announced to the several groups of officers that a start would not be made under two hours so the boys wandered about, looking at the ruined landscape and picking up here and there sad little mementoes of friend and foe. Buttons, scraps of jewelry, mostly cheap rings that girls might have worn and given to their departing sweethearts. There were dozens of crushed and stained pictures too, so many that the boys did not bother to pick them up after the first dozen or so. Pinned to one picture of a chubby child was a little sock. Across the back of the picture was written, "A year old to-day. My son. Wish I could see him."

"Gosh," said Beany, "I sure do hope he didn't get his! Perhaps this just fell out of his pocket."

"Why didn't he sign it?" demanded the practical Porky.

"Well, I suppose he didn't have a hunch we would want his address," said Beany. "I'm going to keep this and send it back home to one of the papers. They will be glad to copy the picture of the fat little geezer, and p'raps it will get back to his folks."

The boys wandered on. Coming from a country rich in magnificent old maples and elms, the ruin, so cowardly and so ruthless, of the great trees seemed one of the most terrible aspects of the war. Not only were they torn by shells, but mile after mile stood dead and dying from the effects of the gas attacks of the enemy. The gas seemed to be as fatal to the trees as it was to human beings. Not only had the leaves curled up and fallen, but the trunks themselves were blackened and dead looking. It was like a country in a nightmare, everything in the way of buildings flat on the ground, literally not one stone left on another. The dead and dying trees, leafless and twisted, let the sunshine down upon it all with scarce a shadow.

The boys reached the site of what had evidently once been a fine farm. It was a total ruin. They went clambering over the loose heaped-up stones of what had once been a fine old dwelling, and sat down for a moment on a flat block that had made the broad and generous doorstep.

"Gee, this must have been an old place," said Porky. "See the way the edge of this stone is worn--and it is granite at that."

"Look at the size of it, too," said Beany.

They sat studying the stone when a faint feeble wail was heard. They looked at each other, startled.

"Aw, gee, there's a kitten shut up some place," said Beany, jumping up. "Let's find it."

"Sure we will," said Porky, "but we can't take it along. I don't suppose General Pershing would want to add a cat to his traveling party."

"It sounded most dead," said Porky. "Kitty, kitty! Here, kitty," he called in his most persuasive, voice.

Another little cry answered him and gave them the direction. "It's the cellar," said both boys together, and with one accord they seized a couple of stout timbers and commenced to pry away part of the wreckage in what seemed the likeliest entrance to the pitch black: hollow under the bent and broken floor timbers, on which still rested masses of stone.

Suddenly, in response to their efforts, a huge stone, mate to the one they had been sitting on, tipped sidewise and slowly slid down into the darkness, followed by a shaft of light.

There was a sharp cry from below, and the boys looked at each other, a sort of horror on each face.

"That's no kitten!" gasped Beany.

For answer Porky slid feet first in the wake of the big stone, landed on it, and stepped off into a gloomy chamber now feebly lighted from above. In a moment his eyes were accustomed to the dim light, and he stepped aside, making way for Beany, who came helter-skeltering down behind him.