That night Don and Wash slept in their car, not far from the Château-Thierry road and within a short distance of some American regulars placed in reserve. Seeing the boys’ fire, a few officers came over to talk. They were much interested in Don, and amused at Wash and his lingo. They also were free with certain information and opinions. One first-lieutenant who had most to say remarked: “Well, we’ve got a job on our hands tomorrow, but we’ll do it! These Frenchies are good fellows and good scrappers, but they have to follow fixed methods of fighting. This is not the American way. I say hang this trench business, pot shots, grenades, flares, sniping and all that!” “Like to have a little of it kind of Indian fashion, eh?” suggested Don. “That’s it, my boy! Go right after them--rifle, bayonet and pistol!” “I hear our commander told the generalissimo that we wanted to fight this in our own way,” offered a young second-lieutenant. “That’s right. As soon as Foch said we might try, Pershing told him we could stop the Heinies, but we didn’t want to follow the methods commonly in use. We wanted to go at them American fashion. So, those are the orders. And, believe me, we’ll stop them all right!” “Pretty sure of it?” queried Don. “Certain, my boy; certain! How do you feel about it, Rastus!” “Ah feels dis a-way ’bout hit:” answered Wash. “Whichaway a white man wants tuh fight Ah sez let him fight an’ same way wif a niggah. Some goes at it wif fis’ en’ some wif a razzor, but fo’ me lemme butt wif mah haid. Ah kin put mah weight back o’ dis ol’ bean o’ mine en’ make a dant in a grin’ stone wif it!” “Say, Rastus, go butt a Hun!” “Show me one, boss; show me one! A ain’t seed one yit what wants tuh fight. Ah on’y heerd tell of ’em.” CHAPTER XVI YANKS “Ask Corporal Stapley to report here, Sergeant.” A bluff Irishman, late of the regular army and now attached to the marines for his experience, saluted his Captain and turned to obey. A few minutes later he returned with the non-com. “What luck, Stapley?” asked the Captain. “Couldn’t find them, sir,” was the reply. “That’s bad. Made every effort, I suppose.” “We did, indeed. Jennings, of the Police, was with us and we scoured around thoroughly. A Red Cross ambulance is pretty easy to spot and we landed half a dozen, but they were all O. K.” “Haven’t the least idea where those fellows could have gone?” “Not the least. Case of mysterious disappearance. We thought they might have gone back to the base and we telephoned there to be on the lookout for them, and you may wager they are. We called from LaFerté again later, but they hadn’t seen them. Jennings ’phoned both the Meaux and Paris police to be on the watch.” “Unfortunate. Well, you did all you could. Say, a little more personally: I see, by the records, that you are a Brighton Academy boy; is that right?” “I am; class of 1919, but I don’t know what year we’ll get through now.” “Well, let us hope it is not deferred. Then college, eh?”