s begun again.

"Where on earth did you go, Roger?" asked Elsa. "We saw you start
straight across the valley."

"I got as far as the river. I didn't do Ernest any real damage, did I?"
Roger looked at Dick inquiringly.

"I guess not. He seems to have worked around, as usual. He and Gustav
went into Archer's Springs yesterday."

There was a moment's pause, then Elsa said, "What do you intend to do,
Roger?"

Roger laid down his knife and fork, dejectedly. "I don't know! How could
a man like Ernest do such a rotten trick!"

"He refused to make us any explanation whatever," said Dick. "As far as
I'm concerned, I'm through with him unless he comes across with a
satisfactory statement. I don't like the look of the whole thing."

"Elsa agrees with Dick and me," Charley looked at Elsa's troubled face
sympathetically, "that Ernest's got to be kept in Coventry until
something drastic is done. We were all hoping and believing that you'd
come back to see the matter through."

Roger finished his second cup of coffee in deep thought. "I'll have to
have a talk with Ernest," he said, finally.

"Hackett brought in the new pump yesterday morning," said Dick. "He
brought a bunch of newspapers. We've been floored by their contents."

"Yes," exclaimed Charley, "the war news is unbelievable."

"They've sacked Louvain!" cried Elsa.

"Who sacked Louvain? It sounds like the Dark Ages!" asked Roger.

"The Germans!" Elsa, evidently controlling her voice with difficulty
went on, "They've shot old women and children as hostages. Hostages! Why
that word belongs to the Dark Ages. It's unbelievable! And the
library--all those priceless things are burned."

"Good God!" exclaimed Roger. Then, "What does Ernest say to this?"

"None of us have talked to him since you left," said Charley.

"But whether it's a war of offense or defense, there's no excuse for
that sort of thing. I thought German culture--" Roger paused and Elsa
cut in excitedly--

"Culture! I tell you they never were cultured, the Germans. Look at
Professor Rosenthal and Dad and Ernest. How deep is their so-called
culture? Bah! Petty tyrants in their homes and bloody savages, I'll bet,
if they run amuck."

"Keep your hair on, Elsa, old dear." Dick patted the excited girl on the
shoulder.

"Some one's coming up the trail," exclaimed Charley.

There was a footstep on the porch as she spoke and Ernest appeared in
the doorway. His face was sullen and he made no pretense o