“Well, come on,” said Beany mournfully. “I bet we are in for some fun, because when we look for things we generally find ’em.” “What hurts me,” said Porky, “is not carrying weapons of any sort. It’s a good safe rule for the Boy Scouts, but I’d be glad of some little thing like a sling shot or a putty blower.” “I don’t need anything,” said Beany, “I’ve got the neatest thing you ever _did_ see.” Quite suddenly he drew something from his hip pocket and shoved it under his brother’s nose. Porky sidestepped. “Ha!” said Beany. “It works!” He showed Porky his weapon. It was a monkey wrench from the auto tool chest. In his hand it looked like a revolver. “Pretty neat,” said Porky. “Is there another one in the box?” “Yes, I saw another,” said Beany. “I don’t see any harm in this. Any one might carry a monkey wrench,” and replaced it carefully in his pocket. “Sure thing,” said Porky, making for the car, followed by his brother. “Didn’t the Reverend Hannibal Butts get up to preach one Sunday, and dig for a clean handky to wipe his face with and come up with a bunch of waste and use it before he saw what he was doing?” “I remember that,” said Beany. “I thought I’d die! And so did everybody else. It ’most broke up the meeting.” “Well, when you flashed that monkey wrench I thought it was a revolver sure enough. But it was only an innocent little wrench, and here is the mate to it!” He pocketed the tool, and slipping cautiously out of sight of the group of officers, they went scrambling noiselessly down the steep trail into the valley. Reaching the foot of the hill, they struck cautiously out toward the entanglements, dropping on their faces whenever a flare went up. Presently Beany, a little in the rear, pulled his brother’s leg. Porky stopped, and waited for Beany to wriggle up. He muttered, “What?” but did not turn his face. He knew too well that a face turned upwards in the darkness can be seen by an observant watcher overhead in some prowling plane. “Men whispering over toward the right,” said Beany of the marvelous ears. “No business for any one to be there,” said Porky, listening intently. “We are well on our side yet.” “It’s over there on that little hillock,” said Beany positively, “and I think they are whispering in German.” “Why, they _can’t_ be, Bean,” said Porky. “We are away inside our lines, and we wouldn’t have men out there and, besides, they wouldn’t be whispering German or anything else. When our men are supposed to keep still, they _keep still_!” “I can’t help it,” said Beany. “They are whispering in German.” “All right,” said Porky, reluctantly turning toward the spot indicated by Beany. “We’ll go over and see what it is, and if there are any Germans holed up around here, we’ll sick on a few troops.”