"Yes. It's a queer world," mused Bob. "If it hadn't been that Franz went out against orders and got information, we might all be dead now." And this was true. Once more silence settled down over the trenches, but it was now almost morning, and with the breaking of dawn the rain that had been a drizzle all night settled into a steady downpour. "Not much fighting to-day," decided Roger, when the four Brothers were at breakfast together--and a cold breakfast at that, for there was no fuel to heat the coffee, though word went around that the traveling kitchens were on their way toward the trenches. Roger was right. Each side consolidated its positions, and each seemed waiting for what the other might do. This state of affairs continued for three days, during which the rain lasted. Save for an occasional artillery duel at night, precipitated often by some nervous sentry firing his rifle, there was no actual battle. At the first chance, when he was off duty, Jimmy secured permission to go back to their former headquarters. "I want to find out about Iggy if I can," he said, "and also make inquiries about Sergeant Maxwell and that money I owe you fellows." "You don't owe it to us!" declared Roger. "I sure do!" was the answer. "Just as much as if I'd borrowed it from you!" declared Jimmy. "And I'm going to pay up, too!" He returned from his little trip much sooner than his comrades had expected. There was a joyous light in his face as he greeted them, and cried: "Good news, fellows! Good news!" CHAPTER VII UNDER FIERCE FIRE There were so many sorts of good news possible for Jimmy to have brought back from the former headquarters at the rear that, for a moment, his three chums did not know what question to put next. The war might be over, though until the Germans were worse whipped than they then were there would be poor satisfaction in that, reflected Roger. It was Bob, however, who blurted out: "Is Iggy all right?" "You said it!" cried Jimmy, dancing around "like a venerable ostrich," as Bob said afterward. "He isn't all right, exactly, for he's pretty badly mussed up. But he's not going West, and if that isn't good news I don't know what is!" "That's the best news you've given us since you said the soup kitchens were on their way the day after the big fight," declared Schnitz. "How much is he hurt?" "Well, really not any at all, except for some bad bruises, and he says they'll be better in a day or so. No internal injuries that the doctors can find, and outside of the bruises and scratches--and he has them in plenty--he's as good as any of us." "But how in the world did it happen?" asked Bob. "Didn't you see him with his head all caved in and his spine broken?"