to whack up. But I mean what's to be
done about Sergeant Maxwell? Do you suppose he--"

He did not finish, but his meaning was obvious.

"If you mean, do I think he went away with it, I most certainly do
_not_," declared Jimmy, positively. "A thousand dollars isn't enough
to make a man skip out."

"A thousand dollars is a lot to some people--I know it is to _me_,"
said Bob. "I worked hard on the _Chronicle_, and it never brought me a
thousand dollars--at least not all at once."

"Me either--when I was slaving in the munition plant, and running a
chance of being blown up every minute," declared Roger. "But I think
Schnitz is right--what's to be done! Maybe Maxwell was robbed, and he
started after the thief and--"

"'Maybe' won't get us anywhere," said Jimmy. "Of course, I'd rather
lose the five thousand francs ten times over than have anything happen
to Maxwell. And I'd like to know where he is for his own sake. At the
same time I'd like to get that money back, as much for my own sake
as for you fellows," he added. "I can very nicely use a bit of spare
cash."

"So can I," chimed in Franz. "Maybe we'll have a chance to hunt for
the serg. after this place quiets down a bit."

"I hope so," sighed Jimmy. Really he was more affected than he liked
to admit, and it was not altogether over the loss of the money,
either. He had been firm friends with the missing man--not as close a
chum as with his four Brothers, but enough so that there was a genuine
loss in his disappearance.

"Well, we'll see what we can do," decided Bob. "We've got to look
after Iggy, too--that is, if he's alive. But we can't do anything
along either line to-night."

"No, I guess not," agreed Jimmy. "Some of us'll have to do sentry go,
I expect, or take a listening post."

And he was right in his surmise. He and Bob were detailed to take a
trick at a listening post--to be on the alert for any possible advance
of the temporarily defeated Germans. Franz, because of his bruised
ankle, was not put on duty. Indeed, he came near being sent to the
rear for treatment when an officer discovered his hurt.

"It'll be all right in the morning," declared the youth of German
blood, who, nevertheless, was such an ardent hater of the Kaiser and
his "Potsdam gang," as a certain preacher has called the Hun ruler's
associates. "I'm simply not going to the hospital! Captain, there'll
be fighting in the morning; won't there, sir?"

"Very likely," was the grim ans