bit
to explain further how they had managed to discover the creeping
figures, and, having their suspicions aroused, closed in on them.

"I can see you later, Lieutenant, and answer any questions you may want
to ask about this stuff," he remarked, as he followed Tom away from the
group.

Tom was still "huffy" as Harry called it. He seemed to feel that the
ambitious marksman who had taken a pot-shot at the runner ahead had
really cheated him out of half the pleasure accompanying the capture of
the spy.

"I heard one big splash," Harry said, "which I take it was made by a
trench grenade. Did that Boche try to knock you out, Tom?"

"Oh, he let loose with one of his sort, but it was the easiest thing
going to duck under. He's got a lot to learn about flinging those little
knockers underhand. It takes a baseball pitcher to do the trick right.
How about your man, Harry?"

The other gave a grunt of disgust.

"Nothing doing with that slick dodger, I tell you, Tom. He must have
been a premium sprinter when at home, for the way he dodged in and out
made my brain reel. I kept after him as best I could, but, shucks! he
was in another class from me. And so I lost him in the shuffle. He
disappeared just like a wisp of smoke in the breeze."

"But you were still running like a hare when we banged into each other,
unless I'm greatly mistaken," continued Tom humorously.

"Sure I was! Trying to get a fresh glimpse of my duck. When I hit you I
thought it was that Boche, and then a light fell on your face, coming
from that head-lamp on a motor truck some one suddenly turned on. I
reckon I'll have a beautiful lump on my forehead where I struck against
a pole while running. It knocked me flat, and that was when I lost my
man."

Tom now began to laugh.

"A pretty lively skirmish, all told, when you come to think of it," he
observed. "I'll have to forget about that chap who was too quick on the
trigger, and only add up results. One Boche spy captured, wounded; and
the other gets away. But he's had his scare good and hard, and there's
little danger of his giving us any more trouble."

Whatever became of the captured Boche neither of them ever knew. Perhaps
he was simply taken to the hospital and treated for his wound, as so
many of his fellow Huns had been; and then again did time permit and
opportunity arise he might be tried by drumhead courtmartial on the
serious charge of being a spy.

Having satisfied themselves with regard t