Good night, Sam."

"Good night."

Sam rolled over on his back, using his arms for a pillow, and was soon snoring loudly. This made Dan feel sleepy, and he, too, shortly toppled over sound asleep.

How long they had lain thus they did not know. Sam suddenly awakened. Some one had hold of one of his feet and was dragging him across the cell.

"Leggo my foot!" yelled the red-headed boy, struggling to get up.

Dan, hearing the commotion, bounded to his feet. He was quickly seized and jerked out into the corridor, where he was soon joined by Sam. Then they discovered that they were in the hands of officers, though not the same ones who had arrested them.

Neither of the officers said a word, but, taking firm hold of the arms of their prisoners, marched them rapidly down the corridor.

"I guess they must be going to hang us," said Hickey.

"They don't hang people over here," answered Dan.

"They don't?"

"No."

"What do they do with them?"

"Guillotine them."

"What's that?"

"In other words, they cut your head off here in France," answered Dan, with a short laugh.

"Wow!" exclaimed Sam with such vehemence that the officers in charge of him gave him a violent shake, uttering some rapid commands in his own language.

"I guess we'd better not stir up the animals any more," said Sam, with a wink at his companion.

"No. And be careful what you say. Do not volunteer any information. It will perhaps be better for me to answer the questions, unless they question you directly."

The officers conducted the lads into a sort of reception room, where they stood holding tightly to their prisoners until a door was opened at the far end of the room and another man in uniform beckoned them to enter. The officers did so, thrusting their prisoners into the room ahead of them.

Unlike the outer room, this one was brilliantly lighted; so much so that the boys blinked vigorously for a few seconds. Then, becoming used to the light, they began to take stock of their surroundings.

The first thing that caught their attention was a keen-faced man sitting behind a flat desk, industriously twirling his moustache as he surveyed them keenly from beneath half-closed eyelids.

The boys gazed at him intently. There was no quailing on their part, though had they realized what a questionable looking pair they were, they might have lost some of their assurance.

The officer behind the desk addressed them in French.

"We do not speak your language, sir," spoke up Dan.

"Ah, so I perceive," answered the man in very good English. "You are English?"

"Not much. We're Yankees," Sam blurted out with considerable emphasis. "And you'd better not monkey with us unless you want the United States Government to get you by the collar and jerk you seven different ways at the same time."

"Be silent!" thundered the officer.

"I'm mum," answered Sam, with a sheepish grin.

"What is your name?"

"Sam Hickey, sir."

"And yours?" glancing at Dan.

"Daniel Davis."

"Residence of both?"

"United States of America," answered the boys with one voice.

A clerk was noting down their replies.

"May I ask, sir, why we are thus detained? We have done no wrong."

"Stop! I will ask all the questions here. What is your business, if you have any?"

"We are sailors on the U. S. S. 'Long Island.'"

"Sailors, eh?"

"Yes, sir."

"If this be true, where are your uniforms?"

"We are wearing what is left of them, sir."

The officer glanced at the trousers of the lads and observed that they were such as were worn by sailors.

"A very excellent disguise."

"Disguise!" exclaimed Sam with explosive force. "What are you talking about?"

"Be quiet," warned Dan. "You are only making it the harder for us. He doesn't believe our story, as it is."

"I don't care whether he does or not. I'm getting warm where my collar was until it was torn off. Disguise! The idea!"

"What are you doing in Paris?"

"Getting into trouble, principally," muttered Sam under his breath.

"We came here to see the city, sir," answered Dan.

"When?"

"This morning, or yesterday morning. I do not know whether it is morning or evening now," he answered.

"You say you are from a United States ship?"

"Yes, sir."

"What is the captain's name?"

"Captain Farnham, sir."

"Where is your ship?"

Dan told him.

"When did the ship arrive?"

"Yesterday morning."

The officer went over some papers on his desk, finally selecting one which he consulted, then replaced it on his desk with a nod.

"Where is the rest of your gang?"

"What do you mean, sir?"

"The other men who ran away."

"I am sure I do not know. We were trying to catch up with them when we were caught."

"Ah! You admit!"

The officer spoke rapidly in French to the clerk, who scribbled industriously.

"Well, sir, what have you to say for yourself?" demanded the officer abruptly, turning toward Sam.

"I've got a lot that I should like to say, if you will give me half a chance," said Sam promptly.

"I'll hear your story. Bear in mind that whatever you say will be used against you. It is being taken down by the secretary. Speak! I shall listen."

"It was this way," began Hickey.

"Be brief!" commanded the officer sternly.

"We were walking along Sausage Avenue, peaceable like——"

"What's that?"

"He means the Bois de Boulogne," explained Dan, with the trace of a smile on his face. "Never mind, Sam; I will tell the officer, if he will permit."

"Silence!"

He motioned for Hickey to continue.

"As I was saying, we were walking along Bologna Avenue——"

"Bois de Boulogne," again corrected Dan.

"Yes; something of that sort. We were talking, when, all at once, my friend here heard a woman scream. Then two women screamed. We didn't know what they were screaming about, because they were screaming in some language we didn't understand. Maybe they were talking in French. I guess they were. Well, we didn't know what kind of trouble it was, but we knew it was a woman in trouble, and that was enough."

"Proceed!"

"We sailed in. There were a lot of fellows attempting to rob a couple of ladies beside a cab. We thought so, anyway, and we mixed it up right away. I gave the fellow who was holding the horses a short arm punch over the eye with my left, and hooked his jaw with my right. You ought to have seen him curl up and go to sleep," added Hickey, with a laugh.

"Never mind that; tell me what happened."

"That's what I'm trying to do, if you will let me alone. While I was doing that, my friend Dan had fired himself right into the bunch. He put several of them out and by the time I mixed in everybody was fighting. Some of the fellows tried to stick us with knives, and one miserable coward fired a shot at me. I guess he came pretty near winging me. His bullet nearly clipped a lock of hair from my head. Well, anyway, we had them pretty well thrashed when, all of a sudden, one of the robbers let out a yell and in a minute they had hit the trail for the bushes, with Dan and myself after them. If I hadn't fallen over a curbstone maybe we would have caught them. About that time the police jumped on us, and I don't remember very much after that, until we were taking a ride in the automobile."

"Your story is well told, but it is not in accordance with the facts."

"You mean that I lie?" demanded Sam belligerently.

"Why did you assault the gendarmes?" demanded the official, ignoring Sam's question.

"We did not know they were the police, sir," spoke up Dan Davis. "We could not see plainly in the darkness under the trees. We thought the robbers had returned. We defended ourselves as best we could, sir. I am sorry we struck any of your men; it was a mistake."

The official, with chin in hand,