"Oh, that's so's they can open this little cock here, see? Start the thing going. Don't pull away the camouflage. There may be another chap up here in a little while, to see what's the matter. _Tommy'll_ take care of them all right, won't you, _Tommy_?" "Do you mean me?" Tom asked. "I mean your namesake here," Roscoe said, slapping his rifle. "I named it after you, you old glum head. Remember how you told me a feller couldn't aim straight, _kind of_" (he mimicked Tom's tone). "You said a feller couldn't aim straight, _kind of_, if he smoked cigarettes." "I got to admit I was wrong," said Tom. "You bet you have! Jingoes, it's good to hear you talk!" Roscoe laughed. "How in the world did you get here, anyway?" "I'll tell you all about it," said Tom, "only first tell me, are you the feller they call the Jersey Snipe?" "Snipy, for short," said Roscoe. "Then maybe you saved my life already," said Tom, "out in No Man's Land." "Were you the kid on that wheel?" Roscoe asked, surprised. "Yes, and I always knew you'd make a good soldier. I told everybody so." "_Kind of?_ Tommy, old boy, don't forget it was _you_ made me a soldier," Roscoe said soberly. "Come on back to my perch with me," he added, "and tell me all about your adventures. This is better than taking Berlin. There's only one person in this little old world I'd rather meet in a lonely place, and that's the Kaiser. Come on--quiet now." "You don't think you can show _me_ how to stalk, do you?" said Tom. CHAPTER ELEVEN ON GUARD "You see it was this way," said Roscoe after hie had scrambled with amazing agility up to his "perch" in a tree several hundred feet distant but in full view of the stream. Tom had climbed up after him and was looking with curious pleasure at the little kit of rations and other personal paraphernalia which hung from neighboring branches. "How do you like my private camp? Got Temple Camp beat, hey?" he broke off in that erratic way of his. "All the comforts of home. Come on, get into your camouflage." "You don't seem the same as when you used to come up to our office from the bank downstairs--that's one sure thing," said Tom, pulling the leaves about him. "You thought all I was good for was to jolly Margaret Ellison, huh?" "I see now that you didn't only save my life but lots of other fellers', too," said Tom. "Go on, you started to tell me about it." It was very pleasant and cosy up there in the sniper's perch where Roscoe had gathered the thinner branches about him, forming a little leafy lair, in which his agile figure and his quick glances about reminded Tom for all the world of a squirrel. He could hardly believe that this watchful, dexterous creature, peering cautiously out of his romantic retreat, was the same Roscoe Bent who used to make fun of the scouts and sneak upstairs to smoke cigarettes in the Temple Camp office; who thought as much of his spotless high collar then as he seemed to think of his rifle now.