"They're the same two--no question of that," decided Jimmy. "But I may be wrong in thinking they were having a secret meeting with spies. Those civilians may be spies, but I don't believe any of our soldiers would be in any underhand scheme with them. Maybe they were laying pipes to capture the spies, or even bag bigger game. I guess that was it. Hang it! I wish I could get up and follow them. I'd like to have a talk with those fellows!" But when Jimmy tried to sit up he found how weak he really was. The blow on the head had put him out of the fighting for the time being. "Anything I can do for you, old man?" asked a Salvation Army worker, coming along just then. He had been going about giving hot soup to such of the injured as could take it, and now it was Jimmy's turn. "Yes, I would like a bit," answered Jimmy Blaise to this rough and ready angel of mercy in the guise of an unshaven Salvation Army man. "That's great!" murmured Jimmy, as the soup brought new life to him. He felt so much revived that a few minutes later, when an orderly came past and stopped beside Jimmy, the Khaki Boy began a conversation. "Is the signal corps ordered to any special place?" he asked. "Oh, no, just out on general work," was the answer. "The Germans shot away some of our telegraph lines, and they're going to repair 'em, I guess. Wish I was with 'em, but I can't be," and he sighed. "Like that sort of work?" asked Jimmy. "You bet! I'm a telephone repair man back home, and I was in the signal corps until I got a wound that put me out. I'm getting better, and I'll soon be able to chuck this orderly berth, put on my spurs and take my pliers again." "Know anyone in that signal corps bunch?" asked Jimmy. "Sure! Every one. I've been working with 'em ever since this shindig started." "What's in that black box the two rear men carried?" asked Jimmy, though he pretty well knew what the answer would be, as he had seen such boxes before. "Part of a wireless outfit," was the answer. "I was just taking up that work when I got my wound stripe." "Who were the two lads carrying the box?" persisted Jimmy. "You mean the wireless box? Oh, they were two lads named Bixton. One--Wilbur--is a private. His brother Aleck is a corporal." "Wilbur and Aleck Bixton," said Jimmy, and at once his brain began to do some active work. "Yes, they claim to be experts in wireless work," went on the orderly. "But, for my part, I think they're a couple of----" "Orderly!" came a sharp command from a surgeon, "I need you over here." Some more wounded were being brought in. "See you later, old man," said the surgeon's assistant to Jimmy. "Hope you get out of this dump soon." "Same here," and Jimmy smiled. He did not feel the pain so much now, for he was thinking of something else.