"We ought to go hotfoot to the captain and tell him what we've seen," declared Tom with emphasis. "I hardly like to do that," objected Billy. "At least not at this stage of the game. After all, we haven't any positive proof against Nick. His handkerchief might have dropped accidentally. And the knocking of the butt of his gun against the door could have happened without his meaning anything by it. He could explain his going around the hut by saying he wanted to be especially vigilant in guarding the prisoner." "Yes," agreed Frank, "we haven't proof enough against Rabig to hang a yellow dog. And I wouldn't want to get him in bad with his officers on mere suspicion." "That note might be proof if we could only get hold of it," suggested Tom. "Swell chance!" returned Bart. "You can bet that note is chewed up and swallowed by this time. The first thing the Hun thought of, when he was tipped off that some one was coming, was to get rid of the evidence that might queer his chance of escape." "I'll tell you what we'll do," said Frank. "We'll just go down and see Rabig and ask him casually about the prisoner. That may make him think that we're on to something, and if he's planning to do anything crooked it may scare him off. It won't do any harm anyway, and we'll take a chance." They left the clump of trees and strolled down carelessly in the direction of the hut. Rabig saw them coming, and the surly look that was habitual with him became more pronounced than usual. There was no love lost between him and any of them. He had been thoroughly unpopular in Camport because of his bullying nature even before the outbreak of the war, and his evident leaning toward Germany had deepened this feeling. Since he had been drafted, he had of course kept his pro-German views to himself, for he valued his skin and had no desire to face a firing squad. But his work had been done grudgingly, and his disposition to shirk had more than once gained him short terms in the guardhouse. Of all the group approaching him he most heartily disliked Frank. In the first place, Frank had never permitted him to bully him when they were with Moore & Thomas, and the two had been more than once on the brink of a fight. And since the boxing bout in the camp, when he had tried foul tactics and Frank had thrashed him thoroughly, his venom toward his conqueror had been more bitter than ever. The boys stopped when they reached the front of the hut. "Hello, Rabig!" they greeted him. "Hello!" responded Rabig, still keeping up his pacing. "Right on the job, I see," remarked Bart, pleasantly enough. "Your eyesight's mighty good," replied Nick sullenly. "Yes," Bart came back at him, "I can see a bit of white paper from quite a distance." Rabig gave a sudden start. "What do you mean by that?" he demanded. "Nothing special," replied Bart carelessly. "What should I mean?"