CHAPTER IX

UGLY THREATS

Roger and Jimmy looked at one another. The face of Roger was a bit serious as Signaler Anson shook his head and repeated:

"It'll go hard with the fellows, whoever they are, who were responsible for the Bixtons' cousin going to jail."

"So you think it wouldn't be wise for the two lads who exposed Mike Bixton to let their identity be known to the two Bixtons in your signal corps, do you?" Jimmy asked.

"I'm positive it wouldn't be a bit wise," declared Anson. "But I guess it won't ever be known who those two fellows were."

"Oh, it might be," replied Jimmy easily.

"No, sir!" declared Anson. "That is, it won't if it's up to the fellows themselves to make their identity known. They'll lie low if they're wise and not give themselves away to these Bixton lads. They're fighters, I tell you, these two fellows--and bad fighters at that."

"Well, so are we!" exclaimed Jimmy, and in such a tone that Anson looked curiously at him, and asked:

"What do you mean? By any chance are you----"

"Yes, we're the two fellows who had a hand in putting Mike Bixton where he belongs," declared Jimmy. "Blaise is my name, and this is Roger Barlow," and he nodded at his chum. "He and I," he went on, "did the most, I suppose, in finding out Mike Bixton's mean tricks and exposing him. Of course, others helped us, but we did the most. And I am glad we did. I'd do it over again if I had to! This Bixton was one of the meanest sneaks that ever came over the pike! He tried to put the blame for a rotten trick on one of our friends. But his plan didn't work! Jail is too good a place for Mike Bixton."

"And are you really the fellows who put him there?" asked Anson.

"We two!" declared Roger, backing up his chum.

"I wouldn't have believed it!" confessed Anson. "I mean you look like peaceable chaps," he added.

"Oh, we can fight when we have to," said Jimmy, with a laugh. "And another thing. If these two Bixtons here want to know who it was that sent their cousin to jail, just refer them to us. If----"

At that moment Anson looked over Jimmy's head and what he saw seemed to astonish him He made a frantic sign to Jimmy Blaise, but that lad, uncomprehending, went on saying:

"If these Bixtons here want to know who sent their cousin to jail, tell them we did--Roger Barlow and Jimmy Blaise, both sergeants in the 509th Infantry. Tell 'em that!"

"You can tell 'em yourself," said Anson, with a queer grin on his face. "There the two Bixtons are, right behind you!"

Jimmy wheeled, to see the two soldiers he had noticed in the dugout confronting him. At least, he was almost certain they were the same ones, though, as he admitted later, he might have been mistaken. But there was no mistaking the fact now that the two Bixtons were ugly-looking chaps. They scowled at Jimmy and Roger, and Aleck advanced threateningly.

"Did you say your name was Blaise?" he asked Jimmy.

"Yes," was the quiet answer.

"And his name is Barlow?"

"That's me," admitted Roger cheerfully.

"Well, we heard what you were saying just now to Anson," went on Aleck Bixton. "Did you mean what you said, or was it just a stall? Did you two send our cousin Mike to jail?"

"If your cousin was Mike Bixton, of Camp Sterling, we certainly did!" said Jimmy calmly.

"Well I'll be--gassed!" ejaculated Wilbur Bixton. "Say, you fellows certainly have your nerve with you!"

"Here, let me settle with these dubs!" broke in Aleck, with a voice like the growl of an angry bear. "I'll just tell 'em where they get off."

He strode forward, his fists clenched, his under jaw shot out, his eyes half closed. He bore every mark of the bully and fighter. Thrusting his face almost into the countenance of Jimmy Blaise, Aleck Bixton snarled:

"Now look here, you fresh bloke, you're in for a fine time! My brother and I have been looking for a long while to find the fellows who played Mike that dirty trick. We began to think we wouldn't ever locate 'em; but we have! You're the two, so you say. Well, I want to tell you that you were fools to give yourselves away, though we're mighty glad you did. It saves us a lot of trouble trying to find you."

"Then are you glad you found us?" asked Jimmy.

"You said it! Now you're in for the finest licking you ever had. I'm going to give you one, and my brother'll give you another. We're going to beat you up good and proper, and then we'll write back and tell Mike we met you. He gave us your names, but we didn't know where to look for you. Now we've found you, and, say, what we won't do to you won't be worth making a report on! Come on, Wilbur, take off your coat and start in on this other guy while I polish off this Blaise. I'll blaze his face for him!"

"Not here!" exclaimed Anson. "You can't fight here!"

"We can't? You just watch me!" snapped Aleck. "I'm going to----"

"No you're not!" broke in his brother, catching him by the arm and pulling him back. "We'll have to wait--here come the officers!"

As he spoke a group of brigade officers passed, and the two Bixtons, as well as Jimmy and Roger, saluted. The officers stood in a group not far away, discussing some matter. Obviously it was not the place for a fight. Even Aleck recognized that.

"All right!" he growled. "This'll have to wait. But don't get it in your head that we'll forget--you two!" he added. "I said we'd beat you up and we will--good and proper! Only we'll have to take another time. The next time we meet you there'll be something doing--don't forget that. There'll be something doing! We'll fix you yet, Blaise and Barlow!"

"That's what we will!" chimed in Wilbur. "We'll make you sorry you ever sent poor Mike to jail!"

"I doubt your last statement," said Jimmy, in an easy, though low voice, for none of the disputants cared to have the officers overhear them. "Mike deserved to go to jail, and there's where he is now, if he hasn't escaped. And we'll never be sorry we had a hand in sending him there. It's where he belongs!"

"Say, you--you----" spluttered Aleck.

"Cut it out--here comes our captain!" warned Wilbur in a low voice. "We'll settle with 'em later!"

"That's what we will!" snapped out Aleck, as he moved away with the signal corps. And, as they passed on, the two Bixtons cast angry looks at the Khaki Boys.

But if they imagined that these looks troubled Roger or Jimmy, the two who had uttered such dreadful threats were utterly mistaken. The Khaki Boys only smiled, though as Anson, who was a middle-aged man, marched on, he shook his head dubiously.

Jimmy and Roger stood for a moment looking after the departing signal corps members. The two Bixtons carried the black box, as on the occasion when Jimmy had seen them before.

"Well, what do you think of it?" asked Roger of his chum.

"I don't think much of them!" exclaimed Jimmy.

"Me either. Think they'll try any rough stuff? Not that I'm worrying," he went on. "I'm just wondering."

"Well, they may try to give us a nasty turn if they get us alone," admitted Jimmy. "But we'll take a chance. These fellows may be what Anson said they were--scrappers and fighters. And it may be that they are just bluffs--talkers, wind bags."

"They struck me a bit that way," admitted Roger. "But say, you know you spoke of their being in the dugout that time. Are you sure, now, that they were there?"

"Pretty certain," admitted Jimmy. "I don't know that I'm certain enough of it to report to the captain, but in my own mind I feel pretty sure. I'm going to keep my eyes open, however. If those fellows are up to any underhand work we'll find out about it."

"I wouldn't put it past them to try something like that," said Roger. "Now that we know they're of the same family of Bixtons as the fellow at Camp Sterling we know what to expect."

"You said it!" declared Jimmy earnestly. "Well, I guess here comes our reply message. We'll have to hit the back trail."

A little later they were on their way over the rough roads toward the trenches where their company was quartered, waiting again for the word to go over the top and attack the Huns.

As Roger and Jimmy reached their comrades they saw Bob and Iggy strolling along a camouflaged road that led to some of the dugouts and trenches.

"Any news from Franz?" asked Jimmy, as he slowed down the motorcycle.

Bob shook his head, and Iggy answered:

"No, not efen a letter!"

"Huh! Fat chance he has of sending a letter if he's in a German prison camp!" said Jimmy, a bit gloomily. "I don't wish him any bad luck," he went on, "but I'd rather know he was in a camp than--well than somewhere else, as long as he can't be with us," he finished, and his chums understood what he meant.

After Roger and Jimmy had delivered their answer and had reported back to their company, which was stationed in a fairly comfortable dugout, they told Bob and Iggy of their experience with the two Bixtons.

"Say, Franz ought to meet them!" declared Bob. "He could tell them something about Mike and the ground glass and poison list that would change their mind about the character of their sweet cousin."

"I don't believe anyone could change their minds," affirmed Jimmy. "They're too mean, themselves, for that. Well, Roger and I are not worrying. Now then, what's the news here since we went away? Any rumors of a fight?"

"Plenty of 'em!" said Bob. "The air is full of rumors, and I guess it will soon be full of bullets. We're going over the top again in the morning."

"Well, the sooner the better," said Jimmy. And though he spoke lightly there was an undercurrent of meaning in his words. Going over the top in the morning always meant many gaps in the ranks the following night. But it had to be done.

The Khaki Boys were sitting in their dugout awaiting their turn to go on duty, a turn which would come soon after mess, when they were startled by hearing out in the main trench excited cries of:

"No! No! It can't be done! It's agin th' regerlations!"

And then, as if in an answering chorus in a play, there sounded deep voices, saying:

"We want pie! We want pie!"

"Oh, fer th' love of spoons, let me alone, will you? Ain't it hard enough to give you reg'ler stuff without havin' you ask fer pie? Pie! Why, my great wash boiler, how'm I goin' to make pie? It can't be done, I tell you! It can't be done!"

And again came in solemn chorus.

"We want pie! We want pie!"

The Khaki Boys looked at one another wonderingly.