"Say, you--you----" spluttered Aleck. "Cut it out--here comes our captain!" warned Wilbur in a low voice. "We'll settle with 'em later!" "That's what we will!" snapped out Aleck, as he moved away with the signal corps. And, as they passed on, the two Bixtons cast angry looks at the Khaki Boys. But if they imagined that these looks troubled Roger or Jimmy, the two who had uttered such dreadful threats were utterly mistaken. The Khaki Boys only smiled, though as Anson, who was a middle-aged man, marched on, he shook his head dubiously. Jimmy and Roger stood for a moment looking after the departing signal corps members. The two Bixtons carried the black box, as on the occasion when Jimmy had seen them before. "Well, what do you think of it?" asked Roger of his chum. "I don't think much of them!" exclaimed Jimmy. "Me either. Think they'll try any rough stuff? Not that I'm worrying," he went on. "I'm just wondering." "Well, they may try to give us a nasty turn if they get us alone," admitted Jimmy. "But we'll take a chance. These fellows may be what Anson said they were--scrappers and fighters. And it may be that they are just bluffs--talkers, wind bags." "They struck me a bit that way," admitted Roger. "But say, you know you spoke of their being in the dugout that time. Are you sure, now, that they were there?" "Pretty certain," admitted Jimmy. "I don't know that I'm certain enough of it to report to the captain, but in my own mind I feel pretty sure. I'm going to keep my eyes open, however. If those fellows are up to any underhand work we'll find out about it." "I wouldn't put it past them to try something like that," said Roger. "Now that we know they're of the same family of Bixtons as the fellow at Camp Sterling we know what to expect." "You said it!" declared Jimmy earnestly. "Well, I guess here comes our reply message. We'll have to hit the back trail." A little later they were on their way over the rough roads toward the trenches where their company was quartered, waiting again for the word to go over the top and attack the Huns. As Roger and Jimmy reached their comrades they saw Bob and Iggy strolling along a camouflaged road that led to some of the dugouts and trenches. "Any news from Franz?" asked Jimmy, as he slowed down the motorcycle. Bob shook his head, and Iggy answered: "No, not efen a letter!" "Huh! Fat chance he has of sending a letter if he's in a German prison camp!" said Jimmy, a bit gloomily. "I don't wish him any bad luck," he went on, "but I'd rather know he was in a camp than--well than somewhere else, as long as he can't be with us," he finished, and his chums understood what he meant. After Roger and Jimmy had delivered their answer and had reported back to their company, which was stationed in a fairly comfortable dugout, they told Bob and Iggy of their experience with the two Bixtons.