d he looked at Tom in a
queer way. "There's cleaning up to do yet, kid," he added.

As they approached the village the hand-to-hand fighting was nearing its
end, and the Germans were withdrawing into the woods beyond where they
had many machine gun nests which it would be the final work of the
Americans to smoke out. But Tom saw a little of that kind of warfare
which is fought in streets, from house to house, and in shaded village
greens. Singly and in little groups the Americans sought out, killing,
capturing and pursuing the diminishing horde of Germans. Two of these,
running frantically with apparently no definite purpose, surrendered to
Tom's group and he thought they seemed actually relieved.

At last they reached the little cottage where the flag flew and were
received by the weary, but elated, men in charge.

"All over but the shouting," someone said; "we're finishing up back
there in the woods."

The telephone apparatus was fastened to a tree and Tom heard the words
of the speaker as he tried to get into communication with the village
which lay back across that shell-torn, trench-crossed area which they
had traversed. At last he heard those thrilling words which carried much
farther than the length of the sinuous wire:

"Hello, this is Cantigny."

And he knew that whatever yet remained to be done, the first real
offensive operation of the Americans was successful and he was proud to
feel that he had played his little part in it.

He was given leave until three o'clock in the afternoon and, leaving
_Uncle Sam_ at the little makeshift headquarters, he went about the town
for a sight of the "clean-up."

Farther back in the woods he could still hear the shooting where the
Americans were searching out machine gun nests and the boom of artillery
continued, but although an occasional shell fell in the town, the place
was quiet and even peaceful by comparison with the bloody clamor of an
hour before.

It seemed strange that he, Tom Slade, should be strolling about this
quaint, war-scarred village, which but a little while before had
belonged to the Germans. Here and there in the streets he met sentinels
and occasionally an airplane sailed overhead. How he envied the men in
those airplanes!

He glanced in through broken windows at the interiors of simple abodes
which the bestial Huns had devastated. It thrilled him that the boys
from America had dragged and driven the enemy out of these homes and
would dig t