“Yes,” said Tom, who for once felt that it was up to him to look on the bright side of things in view of his friend’s evident distress, “Bart’s worth a dozen dead men yet. Think how many things he’s been through and yet turned up as right as a trivet. Keep up your spirits and hope for the best.” They spoke with a confidence that they were far from feeling, for they knew what they refrained from telling Frank that a most careful search had already been made without disclosing the slightest trace of Bart’s whereabouts. Frank was badly shaken by the news he had heard and it was fortunate for him that the work that yet lay before the army was such as to engross his mind and keep him from brooding. For the Allied commanders were taking no chances. They knew too much of German duplicity to rely on their good faith in any matter. The nation that regarded solemn treaties as “scraps of paper” was not to be trusted in the slightest particular. Only when the mad dog of Europe should be finally tied and muzzled could the Allies afford to relax their efforts in any degree. So the word had gone forth that for the next three days the fighting should be pushed as sternly and unrelentingly as ever. The Germans on their side had an especial reason to make as good a showing as possible while the terms were being debated. If they could show that they were further from collapse than the Allies had supposed, the latter might be willing to moderate their demands. So for three days more the fighting continued with unabated bitterness. And the Allies were not to be denied. In every part of the wide-flung battle line they kept on winning. And in the Argonne and on the Meuse, where the Americans were winding up their task, those days marked a succession of victories. The war was ending in a blaze of glory for the forces of civilization. Monday morning came at last, the 11th of November, 1918, when the whole world was listening for news. And the news came. It sped across the ocean cables, it flashed through the air by wireless, it set the bells ringing and the whistles shrieking in every part of the Allied world, it sent the people of Paris and London and Rome and New York into the streets in thankful and rejoicing throngs, it thrilled both hemispheres and all the continents. Only in the capitals of the Central Powers did it sound like the knell of doom. It came, too, to the battlefronts, came in a clarion note of bugles that woke the men from sleep. “What is it?” asked Tom sleepily. “It’s too early for reveille,” grumbled Billy. “Wake up, you boobs!” cried Frank joyously. “The armistice is signed! The war is over!” CHAPTER XV ON TO THE RHINE It would have been hard to analyze the feeling of the Army Boys when the meaning of it all dawned upon them. Their first feeling was that of satisfaction at work well done. Uncle Sam had sent them over to finish the job. Well, they had finished it.