at!" cried Jack, waving the paper about his
head.

"You mean about a victory?" asked Tom.

"No, not exactly, though it may lead to that. And it isn't any news
about your father, I'm sorry to say. It's about the German gun. A 'dud'
fell last night."

"A 'dud'?" repeated Tom, hardly sensing what Jack said.

"Yes, you know! A shell that didn't explode. Now they have a whole one
to examine, and they can find out what sort of gun shot it. This paper
tells all about it. Come on! Let's go for a look at the 'dud'!"

CHAPTER XI

A MONSTER CANNON

Tom, dressing hastily, read the account in the Paris paper of the fall,
in an outlying section of the city, of one of the German shells that
failed to explode. It was being examined by the military authorities, it
was stated, with a view to finding out what sort of gun fired it, so
that measures might be taken to blow up the piece or render it useless
to the enemy.

"That sounds good to me," said Tom, as they made a hasty breakfast.
"This is getting down to a scientific basis. An unexploded shell ought
to give 'em a line on the kind of gun that fired it."

"The only trouble," said Jack, "is that the shell may go off when they
are examining it."

"Oh, trust the French ordnance experts not to let a thing like that
happen," said Tom. "Now let's go to it."

It was fortunate that Tom and Jack wore the uniforms that had so
endeared them to France, or they might have had difficulty in gaining
admittance to the bureau where the unexploded shell was under process
of investigation. But when they first applied, their request was
referred to a grizzled veteran who smiled kindly at them, patted them on
the shoulders, called them the saviors of France, and ushered them into
the ordnance department, where special deputies were in conference.

"Yes, we have one of the Boche shells," said an officer, who spoke
English fluently, for which Tom and Jack were glad. They could speak and
understand French, but in a case like this, where they wanted a detailed
and scientific explanation, their own tongue would better serve them.

"And can you tell from what sort of gun it comes?" asked Tom.

"It was fired from a monster cannon," was the answer. "That is a cannon
not so much a monster in bore, as in length and in its power to impel a
missile nearly eighty miles."

"Can it be done?" asked Jack.

"It has been done!" exclaimed Major de Trouville, the officer who was
detailed to talk to