ity of the
foes of humanity. Now they were using gas that settled on the ground
so that nothing but a gale would drive it away, and that lasted for
hours and even for days. And then there was mustard gas, that
penetrated everywhere through the clothing, through the skin, and that
burned and ate up the living tissues like so much vitriol.

But the Allies were on the alert and soon found a way to avert or
modify the worst consequences of the various kinds of gases. And they
were forced to fight fire with fire simply in self-defence. It was a
question of kill or be killed, and they were left no alternative. They
asked nothing better than to fight as knightly and honorable nations
always have fought and always will fight when they are left free to
choose their weapons.

But whatever the methods used by the Germans, whether gas or guns or
men, they were finding increasing difficulty in keeping up the momentum
of their drive. Sheer force of numbers had sufficed at first to carry
them forward, but now the Allies with American help coming over the sea
at the rate of two hundred thousand men a month--and the finest kind of
men at that--were gradually getting on even terms.

"I see the Germans had a good day yesterday," remarked Frank, as he and
his comrades were at mess.

"I didn't notice it," said Bart, looking at his friend in surprise.
"We drove them back and gained ground from them."

"Oh, I don't mean here," exclaimed Frank. "I mean in Paris."

Billy almost choked in surprise and alarm.

"You don't mean to say they've got to Paris?" he sputtered.

"Not by a jugful," laughed Frank. "But they're sending shells into it."

"Then they must be pretty close to it," said Bart in some apprehension.

"The gun they're shooting with is seventy miles away from the city,"
replied Frank.

"Quit your kidding," commanded Billy.

"Where do you get that stuff?" asked Bart incredulously.

"Cross my heart and hope to die," said Frank seriously. "Honestly,
fellows, they've got a gun that shoots a shell seventy miles or more.
The shell weighs two hundred pounds. It rises twenty miles in the air,
and it takes three minutes on the trip to Paris."

"Is that straight goods?" asked Billy suspiciously.

"It sure is," Frank assured him. "I was reading about it in a Paris
paper I got hold of this morning."

"What was it you were saying about yesterday being a good day for the
Germans," asked Bart, when he had digested the fa