"You mean she'll dance for joy!" laughed Jimmy. "That's all right, Iggy. No offense meant," he went on as he saw his Polish friend look at him rather sharply. "You want to learn English, you know, even if it is a queer language, and you told us to correct you when you made mistakes." "Sure. So I did. I am of a thanks to you. But my mothar, she will of joy have a lot when she gets this money. It--it is more as she haf ever seen of a once," and there was something in Iggy's tone that put a stop to further joking on this line. The Polish lad went on with his letter-writing. As he had said, he was enclosing a money order for two hundred dollars. This was his share of a reward of five thousand francs which Sergeant Jimmy Blaise won for putting out of the way a certain "Charles Black," who, it turned out, was an Austrian spy named Adolph von Kreitzen. Jimmy, who in private life was wealthy, had insisted on sharing his reward with the other of the "Five Brothers," as the Khaki Boys were often called. "Need any help, Iggy?" asked Bob, as he saw the Polish lad shake his head as if in despair over some knotty point in the letter. "Well, I maybe do," was the answer. "I should tell my mothar about how I was out on night-work, and I of help capture that Russian spy of the name Alexandraiovitch Tarbotchanitzitschi. That is a hard name to spell." "Spell! You can't spell that name!" and Jimmy Blaise exploded in a laugh. "You can get your tongue around it a whole lot better than any of us, but it can't be spelled. Just put in a wheeze, a couple of sneezes and a hiccough. Then you'll have the name, Iggy." "Well, I guess maybe you got it right," assented the Polish lad. "I just tell my mothar I of capture a Russian spy what the Germans have--what you call made bad. I tell her the name when I get home." "That's the idea!" agreed Bob. "Home!" he exclaimed. "Say, fellows, where have I heard that word before?" "That's what I was wondering," chimed in Roger Barlow. "It sort of rhymes with bath-tub, pie, broiled steaks----" He was interrupted by a dog-eared magazine which Jimmy tossed at him, narrowly missing hitting the electric lamp by which Iggy was writing his letter. "Here! Cheese it! Do you want to douse the glim?" expostulated Schnitzel. "We won this dugout from the Germans after too much hard work to let you put it on the blink now. It's the best place we've had to rest in for some time. Don't go putting it on the kazook!" "I apologize," said Sergeant Jimmy, humbly enough. "It's great to have electric light, isn't it? Those Huns certainly went to a lot of work to make this place like home for their officers. Electric lights, decent berths, and places where you can take it easy and write letters." "They never thought we'd get this far, I guess," remarked Bob.