"We're going to let you wear our uniforms," said Jimmy, "because they're still wet and, as it was your doing that made them so, it's up to you to stand the dampness." The Bixtons said nothing. There was nothing they could say. Their bonds were loosed and, having seen that the Germans were still securely tied, Jimmy and Roger, taking their foes' guns, made the plotters march out of the cave. "What are you going to do with us?" growled Aleck, as they were told to hike down the hill in the direction of the distant smoke. "March you back to your company where you belong. They'll know what to do with you," said Jimmy. "Look here!" begged Wilbur. "You've got us right, boys. We ain't going to crawl. But do you know what it means if we have to go back?" "Yes, I know," said Jimmy soberly. "Then turn us loose. Give us a chance, anyhow!" "A chance to help kill some more of our boys?" cried Roger. "I guess not! You had your chance, and you didn't take it. You preferred to sell it to the Huns. Move along!" he cried. The Bixtons saw that pleadings were useless, but later on they made one more attempt to free themselves. As they drew nearer the smoke it was seen that it came from a burning village, and a little later, as they entered the outskirts of the desolate and smoking town they saw signs which indicated that it had been recently occupied and deserted by Germans. "They must be in retreat!" cried Jimmy. "Our boys can't be far away." "You're right!" assented Roger. "If we go this way," and he pointed to the west, "we ought to come to our lines." "You're wrong!" said Wilbur quickly. "Our lines lie over that way. I ought to know, for we came from there last night. Our lines are there," and he pointed to the east. "You've got nerve--calling 'em 'our' lines!" declared Jimmy. "You don't belong to the American army any more." "Do you suppose he can be right?" asked Roger in a low voice of his chum. "Maybe our lines are in that direction." "It only needs their telling me to go east to make me go west!" exclaimed Jimmy. "Naturally they don't want to be taken back to the company they dishonored. They want to escape to the Germans they served. No, sir! We march west!" And west they went. It was about half an hour after this that Roger and Jimmy, driving the Bixtons before them, saw a group of American soldiers coming toward them over a shell-torn field. "Home again!" cried Jimmy. At the sight of Jimmy and Roger, with guns held in readiness, marching two other Americans soldiers ahead of them the party of Sammies, under the leadership of a sergeant, broke into a double quick, and soon reached the Khaki Boys. "What's all this?" demanded the sergeant. "Who are you two with the guns, and what are these? Deserters?" he asked, pointing to the Bixtons.