Most of the houses in Camport had been decorated with Old Glory in honor of the return of the favorite regiment. Frank had seen to it early in the morning that his own flag had swung from a pole set in the upper window. Through the whole length of the street there was not a house that did not show from some point of vantage the Stars and Stripes. The house directly opposite Frank's had gone even further. Upon one of the pillars of the porch had been deftly grouped the flags of France and England with Old Glory in the center. It was a type of the alliance that bound together or was soon to bind three of the great nations that were to fight side by side the battle of civilization against barbarism. Before the house where these emblems were displayed, a little knot of people were arguing and gesticulating. One of them, a burly fellow, had a face that bore the German stamp. He was greatly excited and his arms were waving like windmills as he pointed at the three flags that seemed to have stirred him to anger. Suddenly, in a fit of rage, he broke away from the group, ran up the walk to the house, grabbed the offending colors from the pillar of the porch and threw them to the ground where he stamped upon them. Mrs. Sheldon gasped. With a bound Frank reached the door, flung it open and rushed across the street. The fellow who had vented his rage on the flags looked up. He saw Frank coming, and the sight of that flying figure, with taut muscles and blazing eyes was not reassuring. He ran down the walk in an effort to escape. Frank met him at the gate. Like a flash Frank's fist shot out and the vandal measured his length on the ground. CHAPTER V A VANDAL PUNISHED A crowd rose magically from nowhere. People came running, shouting, jostling, demanding an explanation from their neighbors, who, in turn, demanded it of them. "It's Frank Sheldon!" shouted someone, above the uproar. "He's making hash of a Hun!" yelled another. "Come on and see the show, fellows--admission free!" Through all this confusion, Bart, who had been on his way back to the office when attracted by the hubbub, pushed and elbowed his way through to the first line of observers. "What's the row, Frank?" he yelled. "Stop kneeling on that fellow's neck and tell us about it. Look out!" as the fellow made a quick move as though to wrench himself free from Frank's grasp. "Don't let him put one over on you." "Don't worry!" Frank's face was grim as he rose to his feet dragging the now thoroughly cowed German after him. "There's not a Hun in this country or the old that'll be able to get away from me once I get my hands on him--not after this day's work. Do you know what he did?" He gave his captive a ferocious shake and glared about at the still-increasing mob. "Do you know what this yellow dog did, right here in the country that's made him?" "No, give it to us," shouted someone in the crowd, and the rest took it up impatiently.