"You're a nice-looking specimen," he blared forth at Bixton. "Get those rags off you quick, and go and wash your face. Move lively. Go with him, Quinn," he directed, turning to the corporal, who stood at his elbow. "He's not to be trusted. Get him back here on the jump, and don't let him open his head. The nerve of two rowdies like that setting the squad room in an uproar at this time of night! Not another sound from you, you ruffian," he warned Bixton. "You'll get yours to-morrow." "It wasn't my fault," began Bixton hotly. "I started to get a drink of water and----" "Hold your tongue!" roared the sergeant. "See to him, Quinn." Turning on his heel the sergeant took the center of the floor, and issued a succession of sharp commands that sent the men to their bunks, and brought order and quiet out of the humming confusion. Finally satisfied with the result, he next took Ignace in tow and marched him off for repairs, sternly refusing to allow him to offer a word of explanation. "You can say what you've got to say at headquarters to-morrow," was his grim ultimatum. When at five minutes to twelve Roger, Jimmy and Bob stole quietly into the squad room, it was apparently wrapped in its usual midnight silence. Nor were any of the three aware of the many pairs of bright eyes that marked their entrance and followed them to their cots. "Are you asleep, Iggy?" whispered Jimmy softly, as, smiling to himself, he bent over the Pole's cot. He was wondering if Ignace had really taken Bob seriously. In the darkness an arm reached out and drew his head down to a level with the Pole's own. Into his ear was breathed the amazing words: "I have give Bixton the strong poonch. To-morrow mebbe no more solder. You no speak me more now. Morning I tell you." The voice ceased and the grip suddenly relaxed, as Ignace flopped over on his side with a faint sigh. Jimmy repressed the amazed ejaculation that sprang to his lips as he straightened up. Before sitting down on his own cot, he slid quietly over to Roger, who was engaged in removing his shoes. "Listen. Iggy's done it," he whispered. "Given Bixton a trimming. He doesn't dare open his head. He's in bad. Pass it on to Bob. I don't know what started it, but, oh, Glory, I wish I'd been here!" CHAPTER XII AN UNEXPECTED FRIEND AT COURT During the remainder of the night none of the four Khaki Boys slept much. The very nature of Ignace's fragmentary information was calculated to keep his bunkies awake for a while. Ignace himself tossed restlessly about on his cot. Though his conscience did not trouble him, his nose pained him. Dropping into fitful slumber just as dawn was graying in the east, he was cautiously awakened a little before first call by Roger, who was always first of the four to open his eyes in the morning. "Sorry to do it, old man," apologized Roger in a whisper, "but we mayn't have another chance to talk. Get dressed as quietly as you can. I'm going to wake up Jimmy and Bob."