Clem alone, hurried up the hill by the lane. He had but one purpose. His mind was singularly free from any thought of strategy as he went straight to the seat of the trouble. He meant simply to arrest these men and prove their guilt afterward. He reached the army ambulance and saw the driver returning with a wounded man’s arm over his shoulder. This soldier could walk, but he had been shot through the shoulder and had lain unconscious for a time in a shell hole, where he was overlooked. Clem recognized him as a member of his own company. The man smiled and tried to salute. “Driver, I’ll help this man along. I think when you look at your engine you’ll find something wrong with it. I saw it done--from the road down yonder.” The driver raised his engine hood. “Well, I should say! Look at that; will you? Every plug wire cut away and gone and the plugs smashed. Do you know who did this?” “I think I can introduce you to the parties responsible. They’re right up there on the hill now,” Clem replied; then turned to the wounded soldier. “We want to get you in right away and--” “You let me rest here a bit, Corp. I won’t be any worse off and you go and get those devils. I bet they’re Heinies, drat ’em! I’d like to know some more of them are going the long road, even if I go the same.” “You’re going to be all right, man.” “Not on your life, Corp. Never. A fellow always knows when he’s got his for good and all!” “Don’t believe it,” said Clem. “We’ll take you to the dressing station in that car of theirs shortly, unless another ambulance comes up here. Then you’d better go with it. Now, then, Mr. Driver, you look pretty husky. Feel like having a scrap?” “I could cut the heart out of the weasel that disabled my car! That is if it was just ‘rough-house.’ I expect he’s got a gun with him.” “Likely enough--haven’t you?” asked Clem. “Why yes--in the car--army pistol. But I guess I’m not much at using it. I’m better with a knife. It’s either the gun or me, but I can’t hit a barn door up against it. I can shoot with a real gun, though. I’ve hunted and shot deer.” “Well, then, bo, all you’ve got to do,” suggested the wounded man, “is to chase back to that shell hole and get my rifle. She’s there; I forgot to fetch her. And she’s a dandy old pill-slinger, too, believe me.” Ten minutes later the two young fellows went up to the end of the lane and turned sharply to the right, as Clem had seen the suspected Red Cross car do. It was now growing dusk, though the boys could easily make their way across the field. Clem had noticed a bunch of trees taller than those around on the edge of the woods below the summit of the hill, and that the top of one of these trees was partly cut off and hanging: the work of a shell. It was beyond this spot that the spies’ car had stopped. “We’re getting there,” whispered the driver. “The Heinies are liable to send some whiz-bangs over here any time.”