"Say, Franz ought to meet them!" declared Bob. "He could tell them something about Mike and the ground glass and poison list that would change their mind about the character of their sweet cousin." "I don't believe anyone could change their minds," affirmed Jimmy. "They're too mean, themselves, for that. Well, Roger and I are not worrying. Now then, what's the news here since we went away? Any rumors of a fight?" "Plenty of 'em!" said Bob. "The air is full of rumors, and I guess it will soon be full of bullets. We're going over the top again in the morning." "Well, the sooner the better," said Jimmy. And though he spoke lightly there was an undercurrent of meaning in his words. Going over the top in the morning always meant many gaps in the ranks the following night. But it had to be done. The Khaki Boys were sitting in their dugout awaiting their turn to go on duty, a turn which would come soon after mess, when they were startled by hearing out in the main trench excited cries of: "No! No! It can't be done! It's agin th' regerlations!" And then, as if in an answering chorus in a play, there sounded deep voices, saying: "We want pie! We want pie!" "Oh, fer th' love of spoons, let me alone, will you? Ain't it hard enough to give you reg'ler stuff without havin' you ask fer pie? Pie! Why, my great wash boiler, how'm I goin' to make pie? It can't be done, I tell you! It can't be done!" And again came in solemn chorus. "We want pie! We want pie!" The Khaki Boys looked at one another wonderingly. CHAPTER X DISQUIETING RUMORS "Well," remarked Jimmy, as he finished the cleaning of his revolver and started toward the door of the dugout, "if those voices weren't in English I'd say the Germans had put one over on us and were raiding the trench for pie." "Sounds something like that," admitted Bob. "What's it all about, anyhow?" "Let's take a look," suggested Roger. "And should it be dat some pies iss out there, maybe we could of take more as a look," put in Iggy. "Maybe a bite we could of took." "You said something that time, Iggy!" laughed Bob. The four Brothers stepped out into the trench. It was not one of the front line trenches, and was not in very great danger from a German bombardment. What the Khaki Boys saw was a much perplexed company cook, a tall, lanky Western lad, trying to stand off the good-natured verbal attacks of a crowd of hungry doughboys who had just been relieved from a rather long tour in the front trenches. "We want pie! We want pie!" they solemnly chanted, as though it were a dirge. "An' by Gregory Josephus I tell you it's agin the regerlations!" declared Hiram Miller, the cook. "How'm I goin' to give you fellows pie, when I ain't got so much as a prune, now, to make it of? An' no flour--no nothin', in fact! You an' your pie! If you git canned Willie you ought to be thankful. Canned Willie an' beans is all the grub I've got."