"Well, I thought I did," admitted Jimmy. "But the fact is that the blood on his face, as I guess I told you before, came from a man who was killed by a shell, right in front of Iggy. And that numb feeling of his legs was because they were both 'asleep'. You know, when you lie too long on your arm, or keep your leg in a cramped position. He got all over that after he'd been in bed a few hours. "You see the stuff that caved in on him, after the shell exploded, formed a sort of arch over his head, and took the weight off his face. He'd have been dead except for that. But he's practically all right, and will be back with us soon. He's crazy to see you fellows. I thought he'd kiss me, the way some of the Frenchies do when they get excited." "Well, we'll go to see him as soon as we get leave," decided Bob. "Don't think I'm asking this because of the money involved," said Schnitz, a little later, "though we all agree that it's fine and generous of you to have offered to whack up. But did you hear anything of Sergeant Maxwell?" "Not a word," declared Jimmy, "nor the missing five thousand francs, either. Both have mysteriously disappeared." "What's the official report on the serg.?" asked Roger. "Just missing--that's all," said Jimmy, simply. "I made inquiries about him as soon as I had located Iggy in a hospital. Sergeant Maxwell is down as missing. Of course, there's no report about my money. In fact, we five, and the serg. himself, are the only ones who know about it." "Missing," mused Bob. "Does it say without official leave, or anything like that?" "No, it doesn't," went on the owner of the five thousand francs. "He isn't classed as a deserter--yet." "Do you think he will be?" Franz wanted to know, impressed by something in Jimmy's voice. The latter did not reply for a moment. And then he felt that he must not only be generous but just. So he said: "No, I don't! Sergeant Maxwell has proved himself too many times to be as straight as a die, to go wrong now. I don't really believe he went away purposely with my money. He may be wounded, and have wandered into the German lines. If he did, with that cash on him--good-night little old five thousand francs!" and Jimmy pretended to kiss them adieu. "And, fellows, we mustn't forget that he may be lying dead in some rain-filled shell hole," he went on softly. "We'll just suspend judgment, that's all. Forget the bad news about Maxwell and remember the good news about Iggy. And we'll all go to see Ig as soon as we can." "You said it!" declared Bob. "I won't forget how it seemed like a bit of home and heaven to me, Jimmy, when you came to the hospital where I was. We sure will go cheer up Iggy!" "He wants to write to his mother the worst way," went on Jimmy. "And he insists on writing in English. You know how his letters read, but he simply won't stick to Polish which he can handle all right. It's got to be English or nothing." "Did he write?" asked Roger.