"Ah! you mean _goods_ train and train _crews_," said the man. The boys laughed heartily, as this was really the first opportunity they had for a lark since they reached France. The laughter seemed to infect the conductor. Two of the train crew came forward, and finally joined in the conversation, and the matter of the permit was entirely forgotten. The conductor turned out to be really human after all. What interested him was the information that the boys were Americans, and when Ralph told them that they were aviators and had been in a fight above the clouds, they fairly owned the train, and everybody in it. In due time they reached what is known as Siding 8, one of the regular stations on the way. It was a military road, passage on the trains being permitted only by means of written orders. The boys knew this, of course, but they had had months of experience in traveling over roads of this character, and knew the value of bluff and of assuming situations which would be hard to controvert. At any rate they were now sure of reaching the end of the journey without molestation. They felt sure of this until the train stopped at Siding 8. A pompous individual approached the group. "That is the inspector," said one of the men in an aside to Ralph. "I am afraid it's all up with us," said Alfred. As he neared the group the boys both gave the regulation salute, which was recognized by the officer. "Where are you bound for?" he asked. "To the front," said Alfred. "What front? Where?" he persisted. "Anywhere; so we get there," said Ralph. "Where are your permits?" he asked. "We haven't any," said Alfred. "Then how did you get here on this train?" he asked sternly, glancing at the conductor, who was now squirming. "We rode on top most of the way," said Ralph. "Who gave you permission to do so?" he fired at them. "No one; we didn't need any permission; we simply got on and here we are," said Alfred. There was a faint snicker in their rear. The officer colored up. "I will make a report of this," said the officer, glancing at the conductor, and drawing out a book he proceeded to write down the name of the conductor and the number of the train. "What are your names?" he asked, turning to the boys. "Now, see here, Lieutenant, you are doing your duty; we know that," said Ralph. "We're just plain American boys with a little deviltry in us sometimes, and the conductor isn't to blame. We have just come out of the hospital after a pretty hot time in the artillery service, and Captain Rose at the camp told us to tell Lieutenant Moore that we wanted transportation. At the station we found he was at this end of the line, so we took this means to get the permit from him." "In the service, eh? Where?" he snapped. "At Verdun and at St. Quentin," answered Alfred. The answer seemed to soften him. "I am sorry," he continued in a different tone, "but I cannot allow you to go on without a permit." The boys stepped off the car.