CHAPTER XXIII

THE SECRET PACT

Jimmy and Roger, fighting in the cave with the Bixtons, never afterward could tell exactly how it happened. Certainly by all rules and regulations of personal encounters it ought to have been easy for the two scoundrels, physically comparatively fresh, as they were, to have overcome the Khaki Boys, who were well-nigh exhausted.

But if it is true that fear lends strength, so does righteous rage, and the Khaki Boys possessed this in full measure as they thought of not only what the two brothers had done to them personally, but their traitorous conduct toward their country.

"Hit, and hit hard!" cried Jimmy, as he sprang at Aleck.

"I'm with you!" sang out Roger.

Fists crashed to faces, there were body blows, figures leaped back and forth, casting fantastic shadows in the gleam of the lantern. There were cries of rage and grunts of pain. But, once started, the fight never slackened.

"We've got to down 'em this time, sure!" panted Wilbur, as Roger sent him back against the cave wall with a staggering blow.

"Oh, we'll down 'em!" gasped Aleck, but in his heart he knew the fight was going against him.

Once more the four met in the middle of the cave. Jimmy saw his chance when Aleck lowered his guard for an instant, and then the fist of the Khaki Boy went full and fair to the chin of the plotter.

For an instant Aleck seemed to stand motionless, and then, with a dazed look on his face, he sank to the floor, murmuring:

"I'm out!"

And out he was. No counting off of the ten seconds by a referee was necessary. Jimmy had delivered a knockout blow to his antagonist. At first the sergeant thought his enemy might be dissembling, but a glance at the prostrate figure showed that Aleck was not feigning. He was unconscious.

"I'll do for you now!" fairly roared Wilbur, as he came back with a rush at Roger. The latter was in a bad way, for he had slipped and had sustained a terrific blow from Wilbur's fist. But the remaining Bixton had not counted on Jimmy, and now Roger's chum could come to his aid. And this Jimmy did.

As Wilbur swung past him, to deliver what he hoped would be a finishing blow to Roger, Jimmy put out his foot and tripped the scoundrel.

Wilbur went down heavily, the breath being driven from his body. His head struck against a table leg, so stunning him that it was an easy matter for Roger and Jimmy to leap on him and secure him. Roger, greatly exhausted, sat on Bixton's chest.

"I--I'm all in! I quit!" the signal corps man gasped. "Let me get up!"

"Not much!" panted Jimmy. "We've got you where we want you now. Lively, Roger. We've got to bind and gag these fellows."

"What's the idea of gagging them?"

"So they won't tell we're here."

"Tell who we're here?" asked Roger, who did not get his chum's meaning.

"The Germans who are coming here to carry out some secret pact. You know what we overheard these fellows saying. Well, now I'm going to hide here and see the show out when the Heinies arrive. We'll bind these fellows and hide 'em. Then we'll wait for Mr. Carl Anker and Mr. Fritz Ammann, whoever they may be."

At the mention of these names Wilbur Bixton squirmed, and tried to shake off Roger.

"That'll be about all from you!" cried Jimmy in anger. "Either you'll lie still, you dirty traitor, or we'll put an end to this right now! You tried to kill Roger and me, and we won't show you any more mercy than we would a wild beast. Now lie still!"

He sprang up and took one of the two rifles.

"It's all up!" said Wilbur, and his voice was hopeless. "You fellows win."

"We haven't taken all the tricks yet," observed Jimmy grimly. "The game has only just started. Now, Roger, as soon as you get your breath, take off his uniform and slip it on yourself. I'll do the same for the other--dog!" he added contemptuously.

"What's the idea of changing clothes?" asked Roger.

"There are two ideas in this," answered Jimmy. "One is that our uniforms are wet and theirs are dry. Since they are to blame for the wet suits, it's only fair that they should wear 'em. But we won't take the trouble to re-dress 'em. Let 'em lie in their underclothes. It isn't cold in here."

There was a sound from Aleck, which seemed to indicate that he was regaining consciousness. Jimmy quickly secured the other rifle, and then, having made sure that the Bixtons were unarmed, the work of changing uniforms was begun.

While Jimmy stood on the alert with the rifle, Roger stripped off Wilbur's signal corps uniform. Then Roger changed down to his skin, wringing out his wet underwear and hanging it over a chair to dry. Next he donned the signal corps man's uniform without taking time to first clothe himself in undergarments.

Wilbur was bound and gagged, being dragged to a dark corner of the cave. Then the same treatment was given Aleck, who came to his senses as he was being bound, and murmured:

"Did we do 'em, Will?"

"I'll answer for your brother," said Jimmy. "He's sort of incapacitated just now, as you'll be a little later. No, you didn't do for us, and you can't now. The jig is up for you fellows."

Aleck did not answer, and soon he was lying beside his rascally brother, incapable of movement or speech. Roger and Jimmy now wore dry uniforms, and the change was grateful.

"Well, so far so good," murmured Roger, as he and his chum found time to rest themselves and catch their breath. "Hello, chocolate in this pocket!" he cried, as he felt a cake in the pocket of the uniform Wilbur had worn.

"Hope I have the same luck," said Jimmy. "Yes," he added a moment later, "I've got some, too. Say, this will come in mighty fine!"

"Well, now what's the game?" asked Roger, as he glanced at his chum. "How much longer are we going to stay here?"

"Until the two men, probably Germans, whom the Bixtons were to meet here, show up," was the answer.

"And then what?"

"Well, as soon as we hear them coming in we'll douse the glim."

"What's the idea? Think we can fight 'em better in the dark?"

"No, but they won't be so apt to notice that we aren't the same signal corps fellows they expected to meet. It's possible one of the Huns may have a pocket flashlight--very probable, in fact. But that won't be very likely to give the game away. They'll see two signal corps uniforms, and they'll take us for the Bixtons, I hope."

"I hate to be taken for such mean skunks!"

"It's in a good cause," replied his chum. "That's the only way we can get to the bottom of this game--and there's some rotten game going on, I'm satisfied of that."

"I guess you're right," agreed Roger. "So you plan to let the two men come in here, thinking we're the Bixtons they're to meet, and get their secret out of 'em that way?"

"If they'll talk, and don't get suspicious, yes."

"There must be two entrances to this cave," said Roger.

"Yes, and maybe more," agreed his companion. "We came in by one--the one nearest the river. The Bixtons came in by a second, and the Germans may come in by a third. All we have to do is wait."

And Jimmy and Roger were glad enough to do this, for they had been through some strenuous times in the last few hours. But the dry clothing, though it was exceedingly rough without underwear, gave warmth to their chilled bodies, and the chocolate had bolstered up their fagging energies.

Together they sat and waited in the cave, wondering when the two expected men would come and what would happen after they arrived. They talked in low voices, and speculated as to the fate of their comrades.

And much the same sort of speculation was going on in the minds of Bob and Franz and also poor Iggy, who alone of the five Brothers, was left with his command.

"First we are of a five, like a hand," mused the Polish lad. "Then we iss of a four when Franz goes away. And den we is of a two when Jimmy and Roger no more comes back. And den Bob, he goes away, and I iss alone. Py jolly, maybe it iss my turns next!"

Roger and Jimmy, sitting in the cave with the light turned low, presently heard a slight noise. At first they imagined it was made by one of their prisoners, but a moment of listening told them it was from another source.

"The Fritzies are coming!" whispered Roger.

"Be ready," advised his chum. "Have you the rifle?"

"Yes; and Wilbur's revolver, too."

"Good! Here they are, and out goes the glim!"

As he spoke Jimmy turned down the lantern completely, and there followed a guttural exclamation.

"Why is the darkness?" asked a voice in English. "Are you there Herren Bixtons?"

"Um," murmured Jimmy, nudging Roger.

"What is the matter?" asked the voice of the unseen one again. "You tell us to meet you here, and yet you have no light."

"Out of oil," growled Jimmy. "Maybe you have a flashlight. "

"It is out of oil, too!" laughed a second man, and both voices had an unmistakable German accent, though English was spoken fluently enough. "It gives but a little glow. But we have matches, and if there is a bit of a candle----"

"No candle!" returned Jimmy, trying to disguise his voice. "Nothing seems to burn in this rotten hole of a cave," he went on. "It's as damp as a swamp. I've caught such a cold I can hardly speak."

"I was wondering what was the matter with your voice, Herr Wilbur," went on the voice. "Well, we are here, and we do not need to stay long, I suppose. It is not a nice place. As you say it is damp, and, too, there is always danger of discovery. You have brought the information we want, I dare say?" was the question.

"Did you bring more money?" demanded Jimmy, making his tones hoarse. "We've got to have more money, Mr.--er--Ammann."

To his surprise the man laughed. What could occasion mirth at a time like this? Was the trick of Roger and Jimmy discovered?

The next moment he felt a wave of relief as the man said:

"_Ach!_ that's what you always do, even in daylight--mistake me, Herr Anker, for Herr Ammann. You Americans are not so smart as you all think, not to know us apart."

Then Jimmy knew he had played to pure luck, and he was filled with delight.

"Well, did you bring the money?" asked Jimmy, following a lead given him by the two prisoners now bound and gagged.

"Yes, we have a little more," answered the other German. "But it is hard to get now. Here it is--in gold. Now you have the plans all made for sending up the smoke signals, yes?"

"We have plans, yes," answered Jimmy. But he did not say what plans they were. Incidentally, they involved the capture of Herr Anker and Herr Ammann.

"Ah! Good!" murmured the one who had described himself as Anker. "You are doing a good deed," he went on as he came up to the table where Jimmy and Bob were seated and sat down. He had drawn from his pocket a flashlamp, but the battery was so nearly exhausted that it gave scarcely more light than a firefly. Jimmy was not afraid of detection in that illumination. "Yes, it is a good deed," the German repeated. "For, by enabling our troops to the more quickly gain a victory, you are bringing peace nearer, and you will thus save many lives."

"Um!" grunted Jimmy. He saw now how the Germans, by this sort of flattery and reasoning, had led on the Bixtons. But, indeed, it required little to corrupt those already evil.

"Now let us make sure all is right," went on one of the Germans, as they sat across the table from Roger and Jimmy in what was almost total darkness. "We bring you the money for the plans of the smoke signals. They are here--you have them?" he asked.

Jimmy had discovered a bundle of papers in the coat he had taken from Aleck, and, guessing them to be what was wanted, drew them out and laid them on the table. But if they should be plans that ought not to fall into the hands of the Huns, Jimmy had no intention of letting Anker and Ammann get away with them.

"If you will repeat the plans, then we will be sure we understand, my friends," suggested Ammann. "Sometimes in translating there is a mix-up. Now you will send up the balls of smoke, as you agreed, to let our gunners know where the American batteries and ammunition dumps are, is it not so? A green ball for an ammunition dump, and a red ball to tell where there is a battery. Two white balls will mean that the previous signals are to be disregarded, and we start afresh. That is what you said, last time. There has been no change?"

"Um--er--no change," said Jimmy grimly, but, he reflected, there was about to be a great change.

"Well, if that is all, we shall take the papers and give you the money we have brought," said Ammann. "Then we shall go. And next we will meet a week from to-night, but in a new place. This is getting unsafe. We had hard work to get here. Your lines are too close. But they will soon be loosed, when we shell the batteries as your smoke signals tell us the location. Ah, it is the only way to end the war and make friends of enemies! The more we kill the sooner the battles will end."

As he spoke he shoved forward a bag that clinked metallically. Jimmy held out the bundle of papers, dimly visible in the faint light.

Jimmy trod on Roger's foot under the table. They had learned all they needed to know. It was now very plain.

For German gold the Bixtons had betrayed their country, they had indicated the secret location of batteries and other engines of war, enabling the Huns to land their destroying shells accurately. The Bixtons, by means of the smoke signals to which they had access and which they could send up secretly, had given the Germans the exact information they wanted. And Ammann and Anker were German spies--the go-betweens.

"_Ach!_ For the Fatherland!" exclaimed Anker, as he extended his hand for the bundle of papers Jimmy held out. "I do this for the Fatherland!"

"And I do this for the good old U. S. A.!" cried Jimmy in ringing tones as he leaped to his feet and brought the butt of the rifle down on the head of Anker. At the same time Jimmy yelled: "Let him have it, Roger!"

And Roger dealt Ammann a smashing blow, so that the two German spies slipped from their chairs together to the floor of the cave. They were now as helpless as were the Bixtons.