The Khaki Boys over the Top Part 6

CHAPTER V

WHAT'S TO BE DONE?

"What's the matter. Blazes?" cried Bob, as he saw his friend coming back.

"You look as if we'd lost the war!"

"Well, I've lost part of something I won in it, anyhow," declared Jimmy.

"Is Iggy dead?" Franz wanted to know. "Did you hear any word from him?"

"No, but we must make some inquiries. This is about something else.

Fellows, I guess I'll have to wait until I get a remittance from home before I give you your shares of the thousand dollars reward."

"Wait for a remittance!" exclaimed Roger. "Not that I'm altogether sure I'm going to take what you call my 'share' of that; but why do you have to wait?"

"Because the money's gone," said Jimmy, tragically. In France, three thousand miles away from home, with their army pay uncertain, ready cash meant much to our doughboys.

"Gone! Did you lose it?" asked Bob, with a reportorial instinct.

"No, but Maxwell is gone and the money's gone with him. He's missing,"

Jimmy hastened to explain. "Been missing since just before we went into action."

"Where was the sergeant stationed?" asked Roger.

"In that big concrete dugout we captured from the Germans in the sc.r.a.p just before this," Jimmy explained. "He was in command of a hand grenade squad there, and just before the fight, or at least soon after the signal to advance was given, that was the last seen of Sergeant Maxwell and my money," added the owner of it ruefully.

His companions received the news in silence. Then Franz spoke up and asked:

"What's to be done? I don't so much mean about the money," he added quickly, as he saw the others look curiously at him. "That doesn't matter, though, of course, I'll be glad of my share, and it's mighty generous of you, Blazes, to offer to whack up. But I mean what's to be done about Sergeant Maxwell? Do you suppose he--"

He did not finish, but his meaning was obvious.

"If you mean, do I think he went away with it, I most certainly do _not_," declared Jimmy, positively. "A thousand dollars isn't enough to make a man skip out."

"A thousand dollars is a lot to some people--I know it is to _me_,"

said Bob. "I worked hard on the _Chronicle_, and it never brought me a thousand dollars--at least not all at once."

"Me either--when I was slaving in the munition plant, and running a chance of being blown up every minute," declared Roger. "But I think Schnitz is right--what's to be done! Maybe Maxwell was robbed, and he started after the thief and--"

"'Maybe' won't get us anywhere," said Jimmy. "Of course, I'd rather lose the five thousand francs ten times over than have anything happen to Maxwell. And I'd like to know where he is for his own sake. At the same time I'd like to get that money back, as much for my own sake as for you fellows," he added. "I can very nicely use a bit of spare cash."

"So can I," chimed in Franz. "Maybe we'll have a chance to hunt for the serg. after this place quiets down a bit."

"I hope so," sighed Jimmy. Really he was more affected than he liked to admit, and it was not altogether over the loss of the money, either. He had been firm friends with the missing man--not as close a chum as with his four Brothers, but enough so that there was a genuine loss in his disappearance.

"Well, we'll see what we can do," decided Bob. "We've got to look after Iggy, too--that is, if he's alive. But we can't do anything along either line to-night."

"No, I guess not," agreed Jimmy. "Some of us'll have to do sentry go, I expect, or take a listening post."

And he was right in his surmise. He and Bob were detailed to take a trick at a listening post--to be on the alert for any possible advance of the temporarily defeated Germans. Franz, because of his bruised ankle, was not put on duty. Indeed, he came near being sent to the rear for treatment when an officer discovered his hurt.

"It'll be all right in the morning," declared the youth of German blood, who, nevertheless, was such an ardent hater of the Kaiser and his "Potsdam gang," as a certain preacher has called the Hun ruler's a.s.sociates. "I'm simply not going to the hospital! Captain, there'll be fighting in the morning; won't there, sir?"

"Very likely," was the grim answer.

"Then I'm going to stay, sir!" declared Franz, forgetting that he was speaking to his superior officer. "I'll be able to walk in the morning, and I want to get some more of the beasts!" and he fairly snarled the word. No true-blooded American hated the Huns as did Franz Schnitzel, of German parentage.

"Very well," a.s.sented the captain. "You may stay until morning, at least."

"Thank you, sir," replied Franz, saluting. He knew in his heart that he would never give in, no matter how his ankle hurt, and the pain was not inconsiderable, either.

There came a reaction after the fierce fighting of the morning and early afternoon, and when night came, and the lads, with only a short period of rest, had to go out on sentry or other duty, there was a weariness of body, and a queer feeling of the mind, that did not make the occasion one of pleasure.

But duty was duty and it had to be done.

Jimmy and Bob had an advanced listening post, and they took their positions about ten o 'clock that night. It was dark and a drizzling rain was falling.

"I'd much rather go to bed in a dugout," declared Jimmy, stifling a yawn.

"Same here," agreed Bob. "Say, what do you s'pose happened to Maxwell, anyhow!"

"Can't imagine, unless he's been killed or captured. If he was within our lines some one would have heard of it. Or perhaps they wouldn't either, in all this excitement. It may take two or three days to locate him, if he's alive."

"And if he isn't--or is a prisoner?" suggested Bob.

"Then good-bye to our thousand dollars," sighed Jimmy.

"I'm thinking of poor Iggy, too," said Bob, after a pause. "Do you think he has any chance!"

"Well, he didn't appear to be badly wounded. But if his spine is broken he'll never fight again, and may not live very long. That's a fierce state of affairs. How he escaped being killed outright is a wonder to me. You ought to have seen him after Roger and I dug him out," and in a whisper, for loud talking was forbidden, he related the scene in the sh.e.l.l hole.

He had scarcely finished his narration when Bob peered out from their improvised shelter and seemed to be looking at something intently--that is, as intently as he could in the rainy darkness.

"What is it?" asked Jimmy cautiously.

"I don't know," was the answer. "But someone, or something, is crawling this way. Look right straight ahead. See it moving?"

CHAPTER VI

GOOD STEWS