an," the
young captain instantly resolved.

Stepping to the end of the traverse, he peered around the jog.
That next length of trench appeared to be deserted, yet certainly
the voices sounded nearer.

"I've got to have that look!" Dick told himself, exulting in the
chance.

Softly he strode forward, then halted all in a flash. And no
wonder! For he found himself standing close to the entrance to
a frontline dug-out that sloped down into the earth. And the
voices came from this dug-out.

Inside, as Dick peered down, he made out two figures. Yet he
pinched himself with his unoccupied hand, so certain did it seem
that he must be dreaming.

Of the pair below, while the older man wore the uniform of a German
colonel of infantry, the younger man wore the garb of a French
sub-lieutenant of the same arm. What could this infernal mystery
mean?

CHAPTER XVII

DICK PRESCOTT'S PRIZE CATCH

It was the older man, he of the German uniform who now spoke.

"So Berger was really caught in the act of signaling us?"

"Yes, excellenz (Your excellency)," replied the younger man.

"And he is to be shot for treason?"

"It is so, Excellenz!"

The language used by both was German, but Dick followed every
word easily.

"Too bad! And our commander will regret the loss of Berger much,"
sighed the German colonel, "for Berger has served us long and
usefully. Strange that he should be caught, when he has so long
and safely used that electric light pencil of his. I suppose
Berger grew careless."

"It was an American officer who caught him at it and denounced
him," said the younger man.

"Ah, well! At least we have you still in that regiment, and you
are more cautious. You will not be caught."

"Not alive, at any rate, Excellenz," the younger man assured the
enemy colonel.

"Wrong, there!" spoke a low, firm voice.

Both men started violently, with good excuse, for before them
stood Captain Dick Prescott, a cocked automatic pistol held out
to cover both.

"You will both put your hands up!" Dick ordered them sharply,
in German. "You will be shot at the first sign of resistance,
or even reluctance. This trench is no longer German!"

Dully both men raised their hands. Quietly as Prescott spoke
there was that in his tone, as in his eye, which assured them
that their lives would not outlast their obedience.

"You will pass up before me," Dick continued, "and neither will
attempt any treachery. I assure y