As one of the great monsters was lumbering by where the boys were stationed, something went wrong with the machinery and the driver stepped out to adjust it. An exclamation of delight broke from the Army Boys, as they recognized the bronzed face of their old friend, Will Stone. His pleasure at the meeting was just as great, and his face was beaming as he came over to them with outstretched hands. “What good wind blew you up this way?” asked Frank, after the first greetings were over. “Been ordered up here to help you fellows clean out the Argonne forest,” answered Stone with a grin. “Some job, too, if all I hear about the place is true.” “It’s a big job, sure enough,” admitted Frank. “Oh, well, we’ve turned the trick whenever we tackled the Huns so far, and I guess we’re not going to fall down on this,” said Billy. “Where’s Bart?” asked Stone, as he glanced about him. “I hope nothing’s happened to him.” “Nothing fatal, we hope,” responded Frank soberly. “He hit his head against a stump, in a charge we were making yesterday morning, and cut it badly. They took him off to the hospital and we were figuring on going over today and seeing how he was getting along. But I’m afraid we can’t get off if we’re going to attack.” “Too bad,” said Stone sympathetically, “but I don’t think we need to figure on an attack today. They won’t be able to get things in readiness before night. I was tipped off a little while ago that the fight was going to start tomorrow morning at dawn. So you may be able to see Bart today. If you do, tell him I was asking about him and that I’m rooting for him to get well. But I’ll have to tinker up this machine of mine and be getting along.” With a cordial wave of the hand he left them, and after adjusting the machinery started off to reach his appointed part of the line. “He’s a bully good fellow,” remarked Frank admiringly, as they gazed after him. “You bet he is,” agreed Tom. Stone’s prophecy proved to be correct, for late that afternoon it was announced that the attack would take place on the following morning. The men were released from standing in readiness and the Army Boys had no difficulty in getting permission to visit their comrade. But the hopes they had cherished of finding Bart better were doomed to disappointment. They were taken by the Red Cross nurse into the ward in which he lay, his face flushed with fever, his hands clenching and unclenching, while incoherent mutterings came from his lips. It wrung their hearts to see their chum in such a plight. “What does the doctor say about him?” Frank asked the nurse anxiously. “He says that the case is very serious,” was the reply. “He fears that it may develop into brain fever. He said this morning that if it were not for the splendid vitality of the patient, he wouldn’t have a chance. As it is, he hopes he may pull him through.”