"Easy there, fellows," laughed Frank, enjoying their mystification. "It was the simplest thing in the world. While you fellows were sleeping in the cellar I just loosened the sole of my shoe and slipped the paper in between the sole and the upper and nailed the sole up again. The Heinies didn't get next to it, and that's where I had luck. I'm mighty glad they didn't, for the cap seems to think there's something in it that's worth while." "Foxy stunt," approved Tom. "Some wise boy!" exclaimed Billy, giving his chum a slap on the shoulder that made him wince. "You're all there when it comes to the gray matter, old man," was Bart's tribute. A day later, part of their reward came in a week's furlough that was granted them for "specially gallant conduct," as the order of the day expressed it. The rest was welcome, for it was the first they had had since they had landed on French soil, and they had been under a strain of hard work and harder fighting that had taxed even their strong vitality to the utmost. And that week stood out forever in their memory like an oasis in a desert. They spent it in a little French town miles away from the firing line and even beyond the sound of the guns. They fished and swam and loafed and slept as though there was no such thing as war in the world. No reveille to wake them in the morning, no taps to send them to their beds at night. For the first time in months they were their own masters, and they enjoyed their brief liberty to the full. Yet even here in this "little bit of heaven" as Tom expressed it, they could not be wholly free from war's reminder. They were sprawling one day outside their cottage when an officer came along, gorgeous in epaulets and gold lace. "See who's coming!" exclaimed Tom peevishly. "Now we'll have to get up and salute." "I suppose so," said Billy reluctantly. "Can't we pretend, we don't see him?" yawned Bart sleepily, clutching at a straw of hope. "Not a chance in the world," declared Frank. "He's looking right at us." They stood up as the officer approached and saluted respectfully. He returned the salute snappishly and glared at them sternly. "Get in line there," he commanded. "Smart now. Eyes ahead." They resented his tone, but obeyed with military promptness. "Present arms." They hesitated and looked at each other. "Present arms," I said. "If you please, sir," said Bart, "we have no guns." "I know it," snapped the officer. "Go through the motions." So without a word they did as directed. "Shoulder arms." They did so. "Forward! March!" He set off in front with a military stride and they followed. "I feel like a fool," whispered Bart to Frank. "Same here," was the reply. "What does he mean by it?" "Wants to show his authority, I reckon," muttered Bart. Tom and Billy said nothing, but there were scowls on their faces that spoke for them.