with proper authority to pass were promptly rejected and turned back.

A guard came running along the foot board opening doors. He shouted instructions to the inmates of the carriages, who promptly began scrambling out of the uncomfortable cars. All baggage was placed along the track to facilitate examination. The train itself was searched.

Gesticulating and conversing rapidly two soldiers approached the little group of Boy Scouts. Apparently an argument of some sort was in progress, but the boys could not determine the nature of it.

One of the men pointed to the uniforms and to the medals upon the sleeves of the boys’ jackets. Gradually his companion seemed to be convinced by the flow of words. At length he nodded his head, as if surrendering his last doubts. The two men fell to examining the luggage.

“Go as far as you like, Old Scout!” scorned Jimmie, as he observed the rough manner in which his belongings were being tossed about. “I’ll bet I’d punch your dome a little, though, if you could talk English!”

“Ah, ha!” cried one of the soldiers, tapping his comrade on the shoulder, as if his argument had been conclusively supported. “Anglaise!”

A torrent of words from the other seemed to meet a receptive ear. The first speaker nodded energetically. His satisfaction was all too evident. From his appearance he was expecting nothing short of a medal.

“Judging from their motions,” Jimmie remarked, “these two fellows are about to fight a duel. I’ll bet on the shorter one!”

“Not much!” declared Harry. “They’re merely telling one another what a nice day it was yesterday and how fine the weather’ll be when it clears up. They are using the sign language, that’s all!”

“Don’t you kid yourself!” protested Jimmie, uneasily. “I smell Old Man Trouble coming around the corner right now!”

“Go on, Jimmie!” scorned Jack. “You’re dreaming again!”

“I know I am!” replied the younger lad. “Last night I dreamed of eating salt mackerel and my dream book says that means trouble!”

“Here they come now!” cautioned Ned. “Hush a minute, boys!”

Addressing the boys in German the soldier was evidently asking some question which demanded an answer. Ned as spokesman shook his head. The other soldier spoke rapidly in the French language.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Ned said, lifting a protesting hand, “we cannot understand the language you are using. We speak only English!”

“Ah, ha! Anglaise!” cried the soldier, gesticulating.

“There, you put your foot in it!” declared Jimmie. “Why didn’t you say: ‘Come across with some good old United States, Bo’?”

“They probably don’t understand your slang, Jimmie!” replied Ned.

“So-o-o,” exclaimed one of the men in poor English, “you speak English, do you? And from what part of England do you come?”

“We are not from England at all,” explained Ned, “but from the United States. We are being sent home by the kindness of a German officer, who has been most considerate. See, here are our passports!”

“Bah!” scornfully protested the man. “Passports are most easily forged. And information may be carried still more easily!”

“But I assure you,” continued Ned, “we are speaking the truth!”

“So say all spies!” replied the other. “We shall see for ourselves just what information you have in your possessions!”

“Go as far as you like,” replied Ned, somewhat nettled at the soldier’s insolence. “You won’t find a thing that shouldn’t be there!”

One of the men was already bending over the bags containing such articles as the boys had deemed necessary for their trip. Without regard for the owners’ rights he was rapidly taking out every piece separately. After carefully examining it he threw the article on the ground. He was evidently annoyed at not finding something incriminating.

Submitting to the search with poorly concealed dislike of the man and his methods, the boys waited with what patience they could muster until the ordeal should be ended. Ned endeavored to distract their thoughts by commenting on the others, who were meeting similar treatment.

He was interrupted by an exclamation of delight from the searcher.

“Ah!” cried that worthy, standing upright. “Nothing contraband! Nothing to be concealed! No information! These are not spies!”

He held in his hand a flat packet wrapped in heavy oiled silk, tied with many wrappings of stout twine and sealed carefully with wax.

“Gather your possessions quickly and follow me!” commanded the soldier triumphantly, drawing a revolver. “We shall visit the commander!”

“What is that thing and where did it come from?” questioned Ned.

“Search me!” declared Jimmie, excitedly. “Maybe this gink had it up his little sleeve and dropped it in there at the right minute!”

“He looks equal to it!” stated Jack stoutly. “He’s a villain!”

“Better be careful what you say!” cautioned Ned. “We are not out of the woods, and these fellows understand English pretty well!”

“I wish I had my automatic and about ten yards start!” stormed Jimmie, gathering up wearing apparel and jamming it into his kit. “I could beat that slow-footed camel in a straightaway without half trying!”

“Better wait and see it out,” advised Ned, replacing his own belongings. “It’s only a mistake and can surely be explained.”

“Maybe we can be examined and go ahead on this same train,” offered Jack consolingly. “Anyhow, we won’t gain anything by arguing with these fellows. They have no sense of humor and don’t want one!”

Following their two captors the lads trudged down the track toward the hut. Carefully they picked their way between groups of genuine refugees rearranging their meagre possessions in the coaches.

In a short time the boys were duly presented before a gray-haired officer seated at a table placed against the wall of the hut. It was darker in the room than out of doors. A single oil lamp served to dispel the gathering gloom of the early twilight.

Reporting volubly in German, with many gesticulations, the soldier presented the four boys. At the conclusion of his recital he laid the parcel upon the table. Drawing himself to his full height and assuming a tragic air he surveyed his captives with complacency.

“Look at that mark!” whispered Jimmie hoarsely. “What is it?”

“It says ‘U-13’ as plainly as the freckles on your nose,” replied Harry, who stood nearest the table. “I don’t know what it means!”

A challenge from the sentry at the door drew the attention of those within the hut. For a moment every eye turned toward the entrance.

Ever on the alert, Jimmie saw a hand thrust through the open window. It seized the package and noiselessly disappeared.

Finding that the disturbance had been caused by the approach of one of the refugees, who demanded an audience with the commander, but who had quickly been satisfied by the explanation of the sentry, the officer again gave his attention to the group before him.

“Proceed!” he ordered. “You may speak English for the benefit of these young gentlemen. Let us have the story, now!”

“Myself and my comrade searched the baggage of these fellows,” began the soldier, directing a contemptuous glance at the boys. “When we reached the kit