The General glanced at him, then bent a steady, steely look on the man’s face. “You!” he said. “A German prisoner, you--” The man’s face lighted. He stood erect and made an effort to salute with his bound hands. “Yes, sir,” he said in a low tone. “If I’m to be shot, sir, won’t you let me tell you how it all happened?” The General glanced at his wrist watch. “It is three o’clock,” he said. He nodded toward the sergeant. “Take this man in charge. To-morrow at seven o’clock bring him to my tent and I will talk with him.” He turned away and did not glance again at the prisoner as he was led away. “He knew you,” said a Captain. “He worked for me four years on my apple ranch in Oregon. The foreman wrote me that he and seven others had left suddenly soon after the beginning of the war. I think we will get some very interesting information out of that young man. In the meantime,” he turned to the two boys standing as stiffly at attention as their fagged out bodies would permit, “in the meantime, boys, can you tell your little story in half an hour? It is very late, and we have a hard day before us to-morrow.” “It won’t take that long,” said Porky. “We just went down a little ways, inside our own lines, General, so you wouldn’t worry, and Beany, he hears things just like a cat, and there was a little hill, with these men inside, and I climbed on top and talked to them through the trap door, and Beany made believe he was a squad.” “And Porky had two of ’em tie up that Fritz fellow,” interrupted Beany, “and made ’em come out the door, and we just made ’em think the squad was guarding the hill, and we brought ’em up here, and they came too easy. And we didn’t try to carry arms, General, we just had a couple of monkey wrenches, and say, Porky, I’ve lost mine! That chauffeur will murder me!” “A few details missing, however,” said the General. “However, that will do for to-night. In the morning, if you like, you may be present when I see the prisoner. Good-night!” CHAPTER VII THE PRISONER’S STORY Some three minutes later (so the boys thought), some one shook them awake. It was morning. “Six o’clock!” said their tormentor, prodding them viciously. It was the driver of their car. “Say, did youse have my monkey wrench?” he demanded of both boys. “Sure!” said Porky quickly. “Here it is!” He handed out his wrench, while Beany tried to pretend to sleep again. The chauffeur looked it over. “Naw, that ain’t me wrench,” he declared. “Same size and shape but it ain’t me wrench!” “Why not?” asked Porky. “One of us took your wrench last night, and if this is the same size and shape, _why_ isn’t it the same wrench?”