The young officer obeyed, while his hearers listened breathlessly. Tap-tap went the spurred heel, dash and dot, dash and dot in many combinations. The reply followed swiftly. The Lieutenant, rather pale, turned to the General. “It’s the boys!” he reported. “They are together, in a closed chamber,--a dungeon, I take it--right below us. They are in danger. Don’t say what. Something about spies and dynamite. Want help instantly.” “How?” asked the General. “There’s a secret door in the oak panel in the hall. They gave directions for opening it.” “Go at once, six of you--you six nearest the door!” The officers designated rose. “Rush!” said Lieutenant Reed crisply. For the moment he was in command. He alone knew how to open the panel. They hurried outside, where Reed felt swiftly but carefully in the place described by Porky. Twice he went over the heavy carving, pushing here and there unavailingly. Then without a sound the secret door opened and before any one could enter the passage that yawned in inky blackness before them, there was a rush of running feet and the two boys, carrying Beany’s coat between them, bolted into the hall. Porky made a motion for silence, and listened. There was no sound. “Somebody chased us!” he panted. “Somebody was close behind us in the dark!” “Men?” asked an officer in an excited whisper. Porky wanted to say “No, sir, _rabbits_!” but he knew that every one felt nervous and edgy and, besides, he did not want to be disrespectful to the officer who had spoken. “They came in through the other door,” he said. “A door at the other end of the passage that is on the other side of the two big rooms down below there.” “Let’s go down,” said one of the men, loosening his revolver. “Please don’t try it!” begged Beany. “We could never get down without light and then they would have the drop on us. It’s no use now. Besides, they could go out of that outside door without the least trouble after they had shot us all up.” “The kid is right,” said Lieutenant Reed. “He knows how the land lies down there. Come up to the General, boys, and make a report. He will tell us what he wants done.” Sliding the panel shut, the Lieutenant called a guard and, leaving the hallway patrolled by a couple of stalwart Americans, the group surrounding the two boys entered the office and saluted the General. General Pershing bent his serious, keen gaze on the boys, then a bright, sudden smile lighted the strong, handsome face that had grown sad and still in the troubled, anxious months at the front. “Always up to something, boys,” he said. “Well, your friend the Colonel warned me how it would be. Now suppose you tell me all about it.” Beany with a sigh of relief lifted his blouse and deposited it on the table. It struck the surface with a clank and as he pulled the cloth away a regular flood of gold pieces covered the papers where the General had been writing.