as queer a mystery as the poison one back in camp!"

Jimmy was not quite as strong as he had thought, for, after trying to puzzle this out and piece together the various threads of thought in his mind, he felt very much exhausted. A little later he was sent to a temporary hospital, where he remained for three days.

During this time Jimmy had no chance to pursue his inquiries about the Bixtons. But he did a lot of thinking. Meanwhile, the tide of battle lulled, but it was only temporary—everyone knew that.

There came a day when Jimmy could rejoin his friends, and he found Iggy with them ready to welcome him, for the Polish lad had recovered from his injuries sustained in the dugout.

"Well, how do you feel, Jimmy?" asked Roger.

"Fit as a fiddle!" was the answer. "That little crack on the head is hardly sore now. The doc told me to wear a cotton pad over it under my tin hat, though, to keep the pressure off. And now, fellows, I've got a bit of news for you."

"Haven't won another five thousand francs reward, have you?" asked Bob.

"No. Wish I had. But this is about something else. Say, you fellows remember Private Bixton, back at Camp Sterling, don't you?"

"I should say I did!" cried Schnitzel, who had good reason to recall the scoundrel. "What about him?"

"Well, there are two fellows here," resumed Jimmy, "who are of the same name and——"

"Fall in! Fall in!" came a sudden order.

There was no time to tell more. Word had come from the front of activity along the German lines, and it was feared there was to be an attack.

Nor were the fears groundless, for the Khaki Boys had no sooner reached the front-line trenches, being sent up to relieve men that had long been on duty, than word was passed along that a big battle was soon to begin.

"I'll tell you later what I started to say about Bixton," said Jimmy, who received instructions to take charge of a squad of men, none of his "Brothers" being in the squad. He hurried away, and a little later they were battling onward against heavy odds.

The Huns had sprung something in the nature of a surprise. It was another of their fierce attempts to break through the American line, and though they did not succeed, they placed parts of it in danger and it required the sacrifice of many lives to hold back the horde of fierce Boches.

"Come on, boys! Come on!" cried Jimmy Blaise, as he led his squad across an open field which, time and again, had been swept by machine-gun bullets. "Come on!"

And with cheers they followed him.