is head toward the
high board fence which marked the boundary--"aren't very important. Not
with a war in progress."

By now the two were in the yard and rounding the corner of the house.

The next instant they stopped dead in their tracks.

There, in the shade of the building, stood a slight, familiar figure. A
figure which, at the moment, was the center of attention for a little
knot of interested spectators.

"Oh, yes, gentlemen, it certainly does work!" cried Henry Horn
enthusiastically, his scraggly goatee jerking spasmodically with each
nod of emphasis. He waved the battered pair of binoculars he clutched in
his right hand. "Yes, it's a marvelous invention. You can see everything
you want to, just like you were right inside that camp. And only a
dollar for a minute's look!"

The professor's face jumped to beet red, then apoplectic purple. His
fists clenched, and the sound he made as he sucked in his breath closely
resembled that of a cow pulling her foot out of a mudhole. He started
forward.

Major Coggleston choked off an incipient frame-racking spasm of mirth
barely in time. He caught the tall scientist's arm.

"See you later, Joe!" he snickered. "I've got to get back on duty.
There's a new super-explosive being tested, and I'm supposed to be on
hand."

"All right. Later." Professor Paulsen grated the words through clenched
teeth, but it is doubtful that he was even conscious of speaking. His
eyes were focussed straight at Henry in a horrible glare, and the smoke
of indignation hovered about him in clouds.

* * * * *

"Only a dollar, gentlemen!" cried Henry, oblivious to all this new
attention. "It's just like going inside the camp. Really it is!"

"He's right, boys!" broke in a burly, red-headed character. "Those
glasses of his are better than a seat on the fence." And, turning to the
little man: "I'll even buy 'em from you. How much'll you take?"

"You see, gentlemen?" whooped Henry, steel-rimmed spectacles nearly
sliding off the end of his nose in his excitement. "The gentleman says
my invention is everything I say it is--"

"_Henry!_"

The little man jumped as if a red-hot flatiron had just been applied to
that portion of his trousers designed for sitting.

"Urghk!" he exclaimed profoundly.

"You prying Piltdown[1]!" flamed the professor. "Is there anything you
won't do for money?" A moment of thunderous silence. "I'm surprised
you're not doing a fan dance y